I'm going to make a prediction: Nine months from now, we're going to be seeing a spike in births.

You could call them the Covid babies.

With the coming of this latest iteration of the corona virus, Americans are socially isolating. For the next few weeks, we're all going to be spending a lot more time at home than usual. Even Americans eventually get tired of movies and computer games.

That's how these things work. Back in the 60s my uncle Milton went back to the old family village in Staffordshire, in the old Hwicce tribal hideage, for the celebrations marking the 500th anniversary of its founding.

The Black Plague had swept through the area, decimating the population. What survivors there were burned down the old villages—fire purifies—and banded together to start a new one in a new location, now part of the greater West Midlands conurbation. That's our oldest family story: the memory of a collective trauma. Out of disaster, new beginnings.

Some things you don't need a crystal ball to foresee. Spring Equinox 2020, and Americans are going to be making a lot more love than usual in the days to come, may it be for a blessing.

The Children of Covid. Coming this Yule.