COVID isn't over, and it never will be.

Even if the disease goes the way of smallpox (which isn't as gone as it used to be), there will still be bloody arguments about masking, vaccines and whether it's OK to make anyone take even the tiniest protective measure for another human being's welfare. These conflicts haven't been resolved, and never will be.

Though clear answers elude us, mask and vaccine mandates seem destined to the past, despite the federal government challenging the ruling ending airline mask rules.

Those mandates are long gone, and it's not because they were unfair or overly intrusive. They're done because, as a nation, we have been through it.

"It" being "the wringer."

"It" being more than two years of death, lockdowns and shutdowns, business failures and marriage failures. We've been drinking and eating too much. We've been looking at too many screens and wearing too many elastic-waist clothes.

Our kids are turning feral.

I took mine to the library recently and saw it firsthand. They ran and screamed, lay down and pushed every button in sight until I almost literally dragged them out.

"What is wrong with you kids?" I thought as they bounced off the walls.

Then I remembered: Oh. They haven't been in a library for two years.

And the kids aren't the only ones losing it.

Driving manners are unbelievably foul lately. There's a crosswalk near my home, and no matter how many kids in bikes wait patiently to cross, cars still fly through at 40 miles per hour.

I had someone almost hunt me down, rabid with road rage, after I didn't see him and cut him off.

"I'm sorry!" I mouthed, waving to say that I hadn't meant to turn in front of him.

Still, he lay on his horn, tailgating me for blocks, revving his engine behind me at a stoplight until it turned green and he could scream something unintelligible while swerving into the turn lane to pass.

Now, this is not to say that these minor things — amped kids and mean drivers — are entirely new, and they're certainly not worth anyone's life. But the landscape has changed, dramatically, regarding COVID in the last two years.

There are vaccines and therapeutics. The dominant strain appears to be more contagious but less deadly. Cases might tick up, but deaths are comparatively low, and we will never — could never — get either number to zero.

We know vastly more about the disease (though we still don't know everything) and it's become clear that zero-COVID goals are fantasies.

Most importantly, though, we won't be able to put the genie back in the bottle without overwhelming need and even more overwhelming evidence that these measures work.

That's impossible in 2022, when even the most learned scientists are subject to questioning from those educated at Facebook University.

Even if we could somehow manage to persuade the more liberal half of the country, a good portion of the other half reflexively rejects any measure or belief solely because it's espoused by Democrats. It's a game of one-upmanship that no one ever wins.

Maybe this sounds depressing. But easy answers are for children.

My son likes to ask me, "Is he a good guy or a bad guy?"

In cartoons, it's easy to figure out.

If he's got slanted eyebrows and skinny arms, he's a bad guy. In real life, though, figuring out right and wrong, good and evil, is tougher.

Once you become an adult, the clarity of childhood fades quickly.

So, we muddle through, as best we can, together.

And we hope that the choices we've made, which are sometimes not choices at all, turn out to be for the best.

Because, either way, it's the next generation who will face the consequences.

To learn more about Georgia Garvey, visit GeorgiaGarvey.com.

Photo credit: Caniceus at Pixabay