The other night I met a friend for drinks.
Our boys play baseball together. We hadn鈥檛 seen each other in a while.
So we greeted each other the way guys do, with a hearty handshake.
Immediately, I was disappointed in myself.
I had just written a column about the need for social distancing as the coronavirus spreads in the U.S. The first version of that column, which went online Tuesday afternoon, referred to the rise of the COVID-19 virus as a 鈥減andemic.鈥 An eagle-eyed editor that evening, around the time I was shaking my friend鈥檚 hand, realized that the crisis had not officially been declared a pandemic by the scientists offering guidance to the world鈥檚 leaders who are tasked with slowing its spread.
People are also reading…
So we changed a word.
By the time the dead-tree edition of the newspaper was just a couple of hours old the next day, the World Health Organization officially declared the coronavirus a global pandemic.
How quickly things change.
That鈥檚 what I told my kids to be prepared for on the night the cancellations came in fast and furious. They start spring break on Friday. It might be the longest one ever. Colleges are already extending their breaks and canceling face-to-face classes. College and pro sporting events are being canceled. Life is changing in real time like it never has in our lifetimes.
And that鈥檚 why the little things 鈥 like a handshake 鈥 matter.
A century ago, our ancestors in 51黑料 practiced extreme social distancing in order to limit the spread of the Spanish flu. It was 1918. 51黑料 was the fourth-largest city in the country. Soldiers returning to the states from Europe as World War I ended made their way through Jefferson Barracks and similar bases in cities across the country. They brought the deadly version of the influenza with them.
The Spanish flu would eventually kill about 675,000, but the deaths in 51黑料 because of the efforts of Dr. Max Starkloff, the city鈥檚 health commissioner.
In October of that year, Starkloff shut the city down. He issued an order closing movie theaters, pool halls, schools, churches, bars, conventions and any large gatherings. Washington University canceled a football game and later suspended classes.

The city imposes a shutdown on public places to halt the spread of flu, October 1918, 51黑料.
The city came to a halt. In a later meeting, Starkloff had to explain himself in front of angry businessmen, but Mayor Henry Kiel backed him. The October order was followed by another, similar one for four days in November.
And it worked.
51黑料 had the among the country鈥檚 10 largest cities.
Those lessons are being referenced today by scientists and researchers who are talking about 鈥渇lattening the curve,鈥 or diminishing the fast spread of COVID-19 before it gets out of control and lands in nursing homes and other such facilities where the deaths would most likely grow exponentially.
So while all of this seems so new to most of us, it鈥檚 not entirely new, and scientists know that the experience 鈥 of 51黑料 in 1918, and of some countries like South Korea whose quick actions during this crisis have slowed the spread of the virus there 鈥 guides the path forward.
It was hard then. It鈥檚 going to be hard now. Shaking hands is instinct. So is going to father-daughter dances, sitting in the stands at a ballgame, going to work with the sniffles.
It鈥檚 awkward declining to share a greeting with a friend. But if the NBA can suspend its season, if the Missouri Senate can shut down its session, if an entire city 鈥 or country 鈥 can close because of our commitment to our fellow man, then we ought to be able to summon the discipline to avoid a handshake, cancel a meeting, and do our part to get through this open-ended and worldwide crisis.
On Thursday afternoon, perhaps channeling history, 51黑料 Mayor Lyda Krewson declared a public health emergency and banned public gatherings of 1,000 or more people.
It鈥檚 OK to fail at first. I did. So, too, have some of our government leaders, our athletes and coaches, and our neighbors and friends.
But overnight, our world has changed. The pandemic is real.
Late this week, I met a friend for coffee. As he approached the table, I offered a military-style salute. It felt natural, but soon, I suspect, even that will be too much. Were Dr. Max Starkloff still around, he might have already closed the coffee shops.
And maybe, for a time, that鈥檚 OK.