You know who does not give a single eff about COVID-19 and social distancing? Crane flies. That’s who. These SOBs are all over my house. Inside, outside, in my bathroom, in my sneaker when I put it on this morning to walk the dog. Crane flies are like if David Blewett and Donald Trump opened a restaurant together in Collin County. Not safe at all. I need Clay Jenkins over here, stat, to drop some truth on these critters.

I know we are all facing our own shelter-in-place struggles. Thank you for listening.

I’ve written about Cash Sirois and Jason Seely at The Well before, and you probably know Cash’s twin brother Mike from his work on The Ticket. Watch this video they put together, scored to a Bastards of Soul song, “Back to the City,” and then read Cash’s thoughts on why they did this.

Today’s fish tale of an edition comes from Will Maddox: father of two, managing editor of DCEO, and self-appointed pond stocker.

I saved six fish from a slow death this week.

I don’t think I realized why I felt compelled to do so in the moment, but looking back, I realize I needed a win. The day prior, we at D Magazine Partners received word that 20 percent of the staff would be laid off because of the economic downturn brought about by COVID-19. Several of my closest work friends lost their jobs through no fault of their own. I couldn’t sleep thinking about them, wrecked with survivor’s guilt and greater worries about the future. So when I saw the fish struggling to breathe with nowhere to go, pushed into a ditch by flooding over which they had no control, their small pond shrinking in the afternoon sun, I empathized with them.   

Earlier that afternoon, my Twitter friend Martin Russell let me know that the giant fish were in a ditch between the Reinhart and Dixon Branches on the northeast side of White Rock Lake behind the hospital (he knows we often take our two toddlers into nature). Caring for two young boys during the stay-at-home order is endlessly more fun and frustrating than the average workday, and an important part of surviving social distancing while doing so is taking them on outings that are fun and engaging and don’t break the social distancing rules. Creeks, lakes, and the woods often fit the bill.  

We parked and walked out to the small stream, one of several that had formed in the shallow ditches just inside East Lawther Drive due to the heavy rains of the past week. We could see several large carp swimming in circles, the ridges of their backs sticking out of the shallows. We could see that the water ended on either side of the puddle; the fish were trapped. We weren’t too far from Reinhart Branch, a creek that empties into Sunset Bay on White Rock Lake, so I thought I could get them there one way or another. 

We couldn’t have been more ill-prepared for the rescue, but I began to improvise. I took off my shoes and commandeered a park trash can and emptied a trash bag (I returned them as I found them after), while my most patient wife narrated the action for our 2-year-old and held the baby. The water was murky from the fish’s movement, and the mud was squishy in the ankle-deep water. My son kept asking to see the fish and would squeal when they would thrash about. After a couple failed and slimy attempts at catching them with my hands, I perfected a method where I used a stick to guide the fish into the trash bag. I dropped the fish and water from the bag into the trash can, which was actually a metal drum. Soon I had three fish in the barrel, but I faced another conundrum; it was far too heavy to lift and carry to the car, much less to the larger creek. 

But in a week that didn’t have many bright spots, a pickup truck full of a family with nets and buckets pulled up to the same spot, having been told about the fish as well. They had been told of the stranded carp, and were here to rescue the fish as well.  

We kept our social distance from the mom and two boys, who used their far-too-small nets to guide the fish into their buckets. The fish thrashed and splashed and hated being trapped, soaking me in muddy ditchwater as they attempted escape. The fish, like most of us, don’t like being forced in a direction they don’t want to go, even when it is for the best. They can’t see the whole picture and rage against the guidance that is saving their life.   

We loaded the buckets into the truck, the four boys into the car, and made it to the creek, which was deep and clear, full of other fish and connected to the lake. The time in the buckets had taken their toll on the fish, and many of them panted slowly, if at all. I worried that the struggle had killed them, that all our hard work would be worthless.  

When the massive carp flopped out of the bucket and down the grassy bank and into their new home, we watched with a bit of trepidation as they splashed into the water. For a moment, they didn’t move. Like many of us this week, they were in a new world, unsure of what to make of it. There would be new threats, new opportunities, but most importantly, there would be life. Each of the six fish we dropped into the water swam away happily, to the joy of the kids and adults taking part in the rescue.  

There were several little streams full of wayward carp in the area. We didn’t save them all, but we made a memory. I leaned into adventure with the family, even if it meant wading into muddy ditches to save some fish. In a time when so much is out of our control, it was nice to make a difference.  

Thanks, Will and sons, for your ever-growing hearts. If you have a tale of a recent random act of kindness, email [email protected]

What Is It With Collin County? Collin County Judge Chris Hill was not part of a conference call with his fellow county leaders and Baylor Scott & White CEO Jim Hinton on Thursday. Hinton told the judges that “the only way we can keep people safe and not overrun our hospitals is shelter in place,” according to Dallas County Judge Clay Jenkins. Hill didn’t hear that news. Earlier in the week, he declared all businesses essential in his shelter-in-place order, effectively neutering it. You’ll recall Frisco didn’t want to board this train, either. Hill contended that Jenkins was unavailable yesterday because it was his birthday. In related news, both Shawn Shinneman and I were able to speak to the judge yesterday.

David Blewett Blows It. I, too, raised an eyebrow at the exchange that the representative for East Dallas and downtown had with Dr. Philip Huang, the head of Dallas County Health and Human Services. Blewett peppered him with questions about the fatality rate that leaned toward skepticism of the seriousness of this virus. As The Dallas Observer notes, Blewett continued on Facebook yesterday, raising questions about how long the economy needs to be stalled in order for this to pass. Long enough that our hospitals aren’t overrun.

Dallas ISD Providing Hotspots for Students. As many as 40 percent of Dallas ISD’s students do not have access to internet. Yesterday, the school board OK’d buying 12,000 for those that don’t in order for them to continue learning while the district is shut down indefinitely.

Expect Rain Tomorrow. Helpful in case you’re on your daily allotted walk. 

An Alert Frontburnervian with knowledge of how permits are issued at City Hall has a problem with how staff is handling construction and development permits in this time of shelter-in-place. The reader says the same stuff cleared four weeks ago is being pushed through today—everything from truly essential jobs like restoring electricity or water to things that could wait, like building a yoga studio or adding a third bedroom. The result of the latter is unnecessary risk for COVID-19 spread.

The source says the city is “doing a lot of good reviewing and permitting what needs to be done. But swimming pools, signs, office remodels, and additions to big homes kind of feels like putting people’s health and lives at risk.”

I asked the city whether it is restricting the types of construction permits it grants during the pandemic. A spokesperson sent this statement:

We continue to issue building permits to support the essential construction industry. That is not the same thing as giving owners/operators the approval to operate a business that goes against the latest County and City orders.

Well, OK. In other words, as I read that, because the county deemed construction to be an essential business—and the city has followed suit—all construction jobs are being approved.

I asked County Judge Clay Jenkins for his interpretation. First of all, he said, construction was deemed essential because it’s in Cybersecurity and Infrastructure Security Agency guidance about workers that are essential to critical infrastructure viability.

“Are there construction jobs that can and should wait until this is over? Yes there are,” he said. “What I would encourage people to remember is it’s one thing if you’re in the middle of remodeling your kitchen and you don’t have water and electricity and now you’re home. We want to get you the things you need. But do we really want to finish everything and have a group of various craftsmen tracking in and out of your home?”

You, of course, know Will Arbery as a guy who graduated from Cistercian Preparatory School, in Irving. (Go, Hox!) But here’s a little-known fact about Will: he’s also a playwright and filmmaker. It’s true. And yesterday he got some good news on that front. Will was given a Whiting Award (and the $50,000 that comes with it). When we’ve finally defeated the coronavirus, perhaps someone will stage his play Plano in Dallas. Or even in Plano. The Times called it a “sly, elusive, off-kilter comedy.” Congrats to the entire Arbery clan, even the ones Will hasn’t yet written about.