I never thought I would hear these words from my wife: “Do you think we will live?”

Or from my daughter: “Dad, you have asthma, I don’t want you to die.”

Or from my son in Oakland, Calif., the first in the family to have this experience, “Dad, we are in lockdown.”

Now we are all in lockdown.

We drove from our temporary home in Pawcatuck to Ninigret Wildlife Refuge in Charlestown, R.I. for a hike in an empty space, planning to relieve our feeling of being housebound.

On the way I was pulled over by a R.I. state trooper.

We had missed the turnoff for a checkpoint set up by the R.I. National Guard for out-of-state vehicles. The trooper accompanied us to the checkpoint, manned by three guardsmen wearing masks, standing next to a Humvee. After a few questions, they allowed us to proceed.

That experience was something I never imagined would happen in America.

I have been reading Daniel Kahneman’s book, “Thinking Fast and Slow” about the mistakes we make almost all the time. One of his foundational principles is our brain relying on “What you see is all there is,” or WYSATI. I groaned and moaned when I heard President Trump say there were only 15 cases and we would be over it soon. Did he really think all he saw was all there was?

Weeks later, after Trump saw the Queens hospital story and pictures (it is the pictures that convinced him, I do not think he reads), he finally realized, way too late, the gravity of the situation. Yet Trump still fools and consoles himself with wishful cures based on a few anecdotal reports.

I am encouraged by the practical honesty of many of our governors. Outraged by the few who are still stubbornly resisting the science of this pandemic.

I am deeply disappointed by religious leaders who ignore public health guidelines, such as Liberty University President Jerry Falwell Jr. resuming classes at the Virginia campus and extreme orthodox Jewish communities in Israel and the U.S. continuing to function as if there is no mortal public threat.

In my congregation, Beth El, we are Zooming services and meetings, and we have suspended the physical ritual purification rites that we always performed prior to burial. Our Passover seders will be conducted via World Wide Web.

Outdoor hikes have been a key sanity strategy for me and my wife. We have discovered Barn Island Wildlife Management Area, and several more sparsely utilized National Wildlife refuges in Rhode Island.

Retired Day writer and editor Ann Baldelli gave me a sunrise tour of Stonington Borough, while retired editorial page editor Morgan McGinley has shown me his secret fishing spots along the Salmon, Shetucket, and Quinebaug Rivers. I never knew such near wilderness areas existed in Connecticut.

And there is humor.

Two dinosaurs are talking to each other as a gigantic meteorite hurdles towards Earth. One says, “I think you’d better get some toilet paper.”

True story: as we headed to our temporary ABNB to make room for our kids to leave their apartment in New York City and come home, we stopped at BJs and picked up two packages of toilet paper. We left one in the car, locked of course.

I am often teased about my Facebook activity and the number of “friends” (in the thousands). It has become a source of solace. Postings of jokes cheer me. I read about deaths from the disease and can offer condolences. We share tips and suggestions, and comfort each other in our dismay over the poor national governance of our country.

Perhaps the greatest gift of this crisis is learning to use internet media to stay in touch. We see our grandchildren nearly every day, and my wife is writing a diary with our grandson. I am teaching him piano. His other grandparents are playing chess and reading books. In some ways, distance learning has made us closer.

Our upcoming challenge is the Passover Seders. Normally you are required to drink four glasses of wine at the seder. We might double that. And we have always opened our homes to friends and strangers, and Elijah. At the end of a Seder we together chant, almost as a sports cheer, “Next year in Jerusalem!” This time, over Zoom, we might chant, “Next year with people!”

Have a good holiday season, Passover and Easter, and pray that we can all be together, in person, next year.

Jerome “Jerry” E. Fischer was formerly the executive director of the Jewish Federation of Eastern Connecticut, now retired.