Last week on our blog, Philip Alcabes, author of Dread, wrote about the very timely phenomenon of sudden epidemics and the panic they cause.

May 29, 2009:
The Age of Epidemics

Why do we feel so vulnerable to epidemics now? Americans live longer than ever; you'd think we would feel a little more secure. Yet we seem to be awash in epidemics: There are infectious ones, like AIDS, MRSA (methicillin-resistant Staphylococcus aureus), and hepatitis C. Each winter, there's an epidemic of flu. But we also have epidemics of asthma, autism, allergies, attention-deficit/hyperactivity disorder, addiction to crystal meth, and absent and permissive parenting. And that's just the A's. Childhood bipolar disorder, Internet predation, obesity, and teen suicide give us shivers of fright for our children and ourselves. Granted, an epidemic doesn't have to involve a germ, but shouldn't it involve some kind of disease?

It seems that all sorts of things can be understood as epidemics now. Twenty years as an epidemiologist, including research collaborations with some really smart epidemiologists, statisticians, and physicians, only scratched the surface of what "epidemic" means to people today. When I started out in the field in the late '70s, the average person was hard pressed to identify what epidemiology was. ("Something to do with skin, right?" they'd say.) Then came AIDS, and suddenly epidemiologists were in demand.

AIDS let the proverbial cat out of the bag. Instead of putting an end to one epidemic, it seems to have made room for dozens more....

"I've retired," Morrison reiterated. "My performing days are over."

A young girl broke out in tears. Her mother led her away from the small crowd gathered near the playground in the Park Blocks.

He'd made the announcement several days earlier to Bear, and then to the other cats and dogs. Soon enough, staff at Powell's heard and spread the word. But no one had anticipated such an outpouring from Portland's squirrels -- maybe Morrison did, but if so he never let on.

You don't often see a hundred squirrels in one place. No one could recall such a gathering, certainly not downtown. One squirrel would chase another up a tree, a third would chase the second, a fourth would chase the third, and so on, until the branches bowed under their weight.

Now Morrison darted for one such tree. He raced up its trunk, skirted several squirrels along a branch, and dismounted with a fancy flip before landing square on his tail in an empty stroller. As if the cushy seat had been waiting for his arrival all morning.

"He'll perform again," Oreo promised.

Bear reluctantly agreed. "He's probably already plotting the comeback."