In our small town of Pacific Grove, Calif., an email alerted us that our community would be "hosting" 24 Grand Princess cruise passengers who display mild symptoms of COVID-19. The other California "hosts" are military installations, Travis Air Force Base in Fairfield, Calif., and Miramar Naval Air Station in San Diego.


A press release sent out by the governor's office tells residents, "We have an opportunity to provide an example of a compassionate humanitarian response," but omits specific measures being taken to quarantine the passengers and protect the community, which is known for having an elderly population. The town jokes that people move here to die or multiply, with many young residents coming for the excellent schools and the elderly for the moderate climate and breathtaking Monterey coastline.

Why then was this elderly community chosen, despite our population's median age being 49, over 10 years older than the national average? Because the passengers will be quarantined on government-owned land. This is also why military bases are "go-to" locations for other, more serious cases.

The Pacific Grove coastline is just across the street from where the 24 quarantined Grand Princess cruise line passengers are staying. They will be monitored for the next two weeks as part of the state of California's plan to contain the spread of the Coronavirus.

Why is it that the military community is always the first to be put at risk? As a military spouse and mother of three, I'm not so much scared of the Coronavirus as I am perplexed.

If military communities are already being asked to sacrifice more than most, don't we at least deserve concrete facts on how we are being protected instead of attempts to pull at heartstrings?

The military housing areas on Travis Air Force Base and Miramar Naval Air Station are less than a mile away from where exposed citizens are being housed. I can't imagine what these military families are feeling. As some previously in quarantine leave, new patients arrive. I hope that they are looped in, that they feel taken care of and reassured that their lives are just as important as those they are being asked to support.

While some communities may be better at communication than others, the press release likely caused more panic than reassurance. Given the current climate, words sent out through official channels carry weight. So instead of adding to the hysteria, I emailed the local public officials quoted in the article for clarification.

No response.

However, within 24 hours, I did get reassurance from every travel-related company I have ever had an online shopping relationship with that they were on top of COVID-19 and take sanitation seriously.

Shortly thereafter, I finally received an update from my daughter's elementary school, the only reliable source of information. It seems that clarification from public officials was possible. But instead of hearing from the governor's office again, our small town's City Manager set the record straight, or as straight as possible given all this confusion.

According to his release, "the state of California made the determination" to temporarily house 24 exposed passengers (less than two miles from my house). Thankfully, it turns out that he did have good news. The 24 have tested negative for the virus and "are not permitted to leave the confines of their hotel rooms."

Costco runs feel like hoarding, but they are not. However, you might be a hoarder if you are one of the people who purchased all the paper towels, water and toilet paper.

Slightly relieved, I chuckled when I saw that "Outbreak" with Dustin Hoffman was trending on Netflix. Watching it served as a reminder that Americans don't like rules or borders. We rebelled against the British. We conquered lands that weren't our own. We believe rules are made to be broken. I hope these 24 are rule followers who regret our forefathers breaking from England and "displacing" Native Americans.

Unsurprisingly Costco was packed, leaving me either highly exposed or highly prepared. In the hidden back corner of the warehouse, a lady was positioned, not with samples, but with a clipboard and bouncer-like confidence, "we are out of water, paper towels and toilet paper."

Twenty four hours after the first press release, I'm not scared of death or quarantine. We have Cheerios, bread, shelf-stable milk, charcoal and... champagne, because if I have to stay in the house with my three kids and husband for a month without toilet paper, I'm gonna need it.