Box Creek Placer Mine: Then and Now

In my last blog I had mentioned that there was a new gold mining operation going on just south of Leadville that is capitalizing on the leftovers of a dredging operation from a century ago. In the video below you'll see a bird's-eye view of the current placer mine. Today's dig relies on large dump trucks and front-end loaders to deliver the massive amounts of dirt and gravel to the trommel and sluice box that sort the material and collect the gold but a hundred years ago you would have seen a gold dredge at this site. I've seen and visited dredges from Fairplay to Alaska but knew next to nothing about the dredging operation along Corske and Box Creeks that are two of the myriad of streams coming down from the eastern flank of Mount Elbert, Colorado's highest 14'er at 14,440 feet. 

On Sunday, October 10, 1915 the Derry Ranch Gold Dredging Company, owned and operated by the New York Engineering Company began operation of a dredge of their own design and manufacture first on Corske Creek and after 1923 on Box Creek. It would continue operating until 1926 when it was subsequently dismantled ultimately to be shipped to South America.  The dredge was equipped with 6 cubic foot steel buckets electrically driven (power supplied by the Colorado Light and Power Company) and in its first two months of operation handled 142,900 cubic yards of gravel and recovered $69,552 in gold ($1.78 million in 2020 dollars). 

Now, if you are not familiar with what a dredge actually is picture a floating barge with a digging conveyor belt of buckets at the front end (that can be moved up and down and side to side) to dig into the slope ahead of the dredge. In the middle is a revolving perforated cylinder and screen (trommel) which washes and sizes the material with the over-sized material being carried via another conveyor belt at the rear of the dredge where it is dumped and left behind as a tailing. The smaller screened gravel is processed via a sluice where the gold is actually recovered.

As the dredge moves forward in the pond (either natural or man-made) in which it floats it continues to process material from the front while discarding tailings from the rear so the size of the required pond remains relatively constant. A huge digging spud holds the dredge in place and can be raised when the dredge is moved forward.

Over the time period the Derry Dredge operated it collected 39,000 ounces of gold. At the time the dredge was operating the United States government set the price of gold at $20.17 an ounce. That equates to $786,630 in 1920 dollars. According to the Bureau of Labor Statistics $1 in 1920 is equivalent in purchasing power to $12.82 in 2020. So those $786,000 1920 dollars would be worth a little over $10 million in today's world. Not bad, but consider this - unlike when the Derry Dredge was mining and the price of gold was set by our government, in today's world the price of gold is free to fluctuate based on demand. In June 2020 the price of gold is around $1,761 per ounce. Those 39,000 ounces at today's price would be worth more than $68 million. Thus the incentive to see if there is any gold in the tailings left behind by the Derry Dredge. One Colorado company, Titan AU out of Greeley, is betting there is. 

In December 2018 Titan AU filed an application with the Colorado Mined Land Reclamation Board to commence placer mining in March 2019 with a proposed date of completion of 2044. The proposal indicated the land would be returned to rangeland and ponds after mining is finished. There was some local opposition to a large scale gold mine in the area but if the company truly reclaims the land as promised it will more closely resemble what it looked like before the Derry Dredge began operation 105 years ago. From a historical perspective one might not appreciate that the reclamation done by the current mine operators will also actually erase the signs of the Derry Dredge tailings. Once the reclamation is complete future generations may look at the site and have no real comprehension of what happened there. So if you are a history buff or simply interested in what a placer gold mine in full operation looks like, now is your chance. To get there, drive south out of Leadville on Highway 24 and then turn right onto County Road 24. I think the best views are from County Road 24A which parallels the south side of the mine. Bring the binoculars!

According to the Leadville Herald Democrat the Box Creek Placer mine sits on 950 acres including land leased from the City of Aurora and the Colorado State Land Board. The State Land Board is the second largest landowner in Colorado (the Federal Government is the largest) and manages their land in large part for the financial support of Colorado's public schools and other public institutions. 

Lots of resources were used in writing this blog. History Colorado, the Denver Public Library, the Leadville Herald Democrat were all very helpful in doing research. Perhaps most helpful in learning about the early days of the Derry Dredge was a hard to find book published by the actual owners of the Derry Dredge, the New York Engineering Company, titled "The Business of Gold Dredging" in 1922. The book provides a wealth of information not only on the Derry Dredge but on the dredging business in general in the early 1900's. It's a fascinating and fun read for any history buff and can be found here. 

And as promised, here's a short video on the Derry Dredge and the Box Creek Placer Mine then and now. Enjoy!

Can you imagine?

Coloradans love their High Country. And each has their own individual  reason. Some like to take in the grand vistas, some like to hike/bike/fish/camp/ski. I increasingly find myself seeking out the quiet peaceful places where I can look around, close my eyes, listen as the wind wafts through the pine and aspen, and get transported back to days long gone and long forgotten.

The High Country around Leadville is dotted with mines. The remains of most of them are almost gone but here and there enough remains to pique the curiosity of what they must have looked like when in their prime. With names like the Matchless, Julia Fisk, Young America, Painter Boy one wonders what significance those monikers had to the miners of those days. Some evoke sweethearts, wives, and loved ones. Others reminisce of countries, States, and towns hailed from or left behind. Others are aspirational while some make you scratch your noggin wondering what were they thinking.

The decaying wood and stone remains silent, giving no hint as to how meaningful those names were in the hearts of those men (and yes, a few women) who gave their blood and sweat in hopes of  striking it rich. This time of year wildflowers share the stage with the remnants of mines that made Leadville the richest square mile on earth at its peak. Not so wealthy today though there still are active mines operating. One of the newest, just

south of town, is the Box Creek Placer Mine. This site saw dredging in the early twentieth century and the new miners, using modern techniques, are going through millions of tons of dredged up rock gleaning the gold that older technologies could not. Their claim lasts until 2044 and from watching the size and scale of the operations grow in the last year there is enough gold to be had to justify spending a lot of money and effort. Dreams of striking it rich are alive and well to this day.

For me, I'm content musing on once was as I sit among the beauty and solitude at 10,000 feet. Here's some of the view...

Here and there...

Are you getting tired of COVID? I am. That's not to say that I'm not still taking prudent precautions (wearing a mask in public and practicing social distancing) and I have yet to visit a restaurant or bar now that they are able to reopen. The gym we go to just reopened Monday and they put up some pictures of the occasion. Not a mask in site and social distancing seemed non-existent. Class size is however limited to a maximum of 9 participants in rooms that used to accommodate 30 plus. While that may be nice for the 9 folks lucky enough to get in it raises inevitable questions of the value of maintaining our memberships for the rest of us.

The Red line represents Google 
searches for COVID

The airwaves and social media are still crowded with COVID this and COVID that, but as tends to happen with any news item it inevitably is forced to eventually make room for other news events. Of course, the predominant other non-COVID item that is front and center right now is the phenomenon of the George Floyd death at the hands of police and the resulting, and continuing protests. Google statistics on COVID show the drop in people searching for COVID-related topics since the peak in March while those for George Floyd continue to skyrocket even surpassing, I'm sure to his chagrin, searches for Donald Trump.

Which will we be talking about a year from now? COVID, Floyd, or Trump? Or none of the above? I hope COVID is not still dominating the headlines in June 2021 and there's a chance that November might take Mr. Trump out of the spotlight. On the other hand, if in 2021 we're not still talking at some level about the repercussions of Mr. Floyd's death then perhaps shame on us.

Meanwhile life goes on. I'm still waiting, thanks to - guess what - COVID- for my cardiac rehab to begin. While miniscule in the grand scheme of things my little heart event in April was a big bump on my road through this thing called life and I'm treating the fact that I'm still alive as a second chance at living it to the fullest. I continue to be a walking fool as it's the only exercise (other than my wife's Honey Do list) that I'm ok'd to do. I've had the chance to get up to the High Country in the last week and surprisingly feel very good at 10,000 feet. In part its due to it being cooler up there than the hot temps Denver has been experiencing but I also think the repair they made to my heart by removing the 99% blockage in one of my arteries has actually made it easier for me to breath 'up high'. 

And when I say it's cooler up there, yesterday we woke to four inches of fresh Rocky Mountain powder. The day before we did a 5 mile hike through the Leadville Mining District on a picture perfect Colorado day with temps in the 60's. Here's a short video recap of some of that walk (I'm not allowed to 'hike' yet so between you and me we'll just consider it a wee little stroll). There's even a short clip of a young lady participating in my favorite activity of mountain biking and perhaps from the clip you'll understand why I miss it so. 

I had also put up a video detailing what actually happened to me in April that landed me in the Intensive Care Unit at Littleton Adventist Hospital. The video above is certainly a more happy subject but somebody might at some point go through what I experienced so thought I'd share...

I'm certainly looking forward to making more of the happy type of videos that I usually put up. If only 2020 will cooperate!

The sound of silence?

"White silence is violence."

I stared at the sign held by a protester standing on the steps of the Colorado State Capitol on my T.V. screen. When the image changed I continued to ponder what the sign meant. To me. To you. To America. To Mr. Floyd. 

I pondered for a lot longer than the 8 minutes and 46 seconds it took to take Mr. Floyd's life. 

Just a couple of weeks ago I sat in the comfort of my living room watching armed white Americans (some carrying automatic assault rifles) standing on the steps of the same Colorado State Capitol demanding that the Governor relax, no - remove, the economic restrictions put in place to protect us from a worldwide pandemic that has now claimed more than 105,000 American lives. The not-so-veiled threat of course was that if Governor Polis did not 'reopen' the State on his own the protesters would do it for him. 

"White silence is violence." 

Four words on a handmade sign. Silence. Merriam Webster defines silence, among other things, as forbearance from speech or noise. To not speak up, to not speak out, is to remain silent.

What appalls me most about Mr. Floyd's death is not that it came at the hands, or more accurately the knee, of a police officer. What struck me as I watched the horrible video was that three other police officers, no - three other human beings, stood silent and did nothing as the life ebbed from Mr. Floyd as he lay on that Minneapolis street. In 2020 does police training truly not cover how to intercede when a fellow officer crosses the line? In exactly these types of situations? 

Newscasts from around the country showed police officers kneeling in respect for Mr. Floyd. In Denver, our police chief, Paul Pazen, walked arm in arm with Black Lives Matter protesters through the streets of Denver. The message of course is that they are different than Mr. Chauvin, the white Minneapolis police officer who's knee killed Mr. Floyd, and the other three officers who stood silent. I'm not sure I believe them. 

Statistics show that a black man has a 1 in a thousand chance of being killed by police in his lifetime, 2.5 times the odds for a white man. In a Kyle Clark (9News) interview this week Denver Mayor Hancock acknowledged that Denver police had murdered 3 men of color in just the recent past. And Colorado has a very suspect history when it comes to race relations.  

If I were to make a protest sign it would ask "Will we let the past define our future?" If you believe the answer is yes then there is no hope that Mr. Floyd will be the last of an already too long list of those killed by officers purporting to 'Serve and Protect'. Change is hard, but it is possible. 

If we choose not to be silent.

As an aside, it was literally almost two years ago to the day that I was writing in this blog about Colin Kaepernick teaching me a lesson. Truly, the lessons are there if we only heed them.

The angels among us

Man... I really should have named this blog something different than ‘The Road That Beckons’. Something like ‘Living the Good Life’, or ‘Retirement Dreams’. Or perhaps steal the title from one of my favorite books ‘Eat, Sleep, Ride’ but expand it to ‘Eat, Sleep, Ride, Kayak, Hike, Camp, Travel, Cruise’. I should have known that calling it ‘The Road That Beckons’ brings along the reality that not all roads are equal. Some (most?) lead to wonder and amazement, but a few lead to dead ends and some of those dead ends can be bleak and scary.

We’ve all seen the inundation of ads thanking first responders for their heroic efforts. Candidly I find these ads suspect and I don’t need my local plumbing company, law firm, internet provider, or fast food joint telling me to be thankful for all those EMT’s, Nurses, CNA’s, and Doctors who are risking their own lives to save the rest of us from the ravages of COVID. Even as the nation is contemplating thumbing their once thankful nose at them as we potentially reopen minus adequate testing and with no cure or vaccine remotely in sight.

This particular blog has the title of ‘The Angels Among Us’. Perhaps you believe in angels already. I had never really given it too much thought, at least until last Tuesday. When a couple of them saved my life.

Those who know me know that I can be a wee bit stubborn and contrary. So far be it for me to need my angels for anything related to the current pandemic rage. Nope, no Corona Virus for me. Instead, I opted for that old standby.... but wait, I’m getting ahead of myself.

Couple of weeks back I was on a mountain bike ride relishing the singletrack trails of Bear Creek Park. I was having a great ride but about an hour in I started to feel suddenly very short of breath and like I was going to feint. Mountain bikers may not be the smartest bunch of coconuts wearing a bike helmet but I did the right thing. I stopped and rested for about ten minutes before making my way back to my car, went home and took a couple of Ibuprofen and took it easy. Couple of days later, another bike ride, this time through Chatfield State Park, and again, after an hour, I started exhibiting the same symptoms. This time I was a little farther from my car at the Mineral Park & Ride and it was a struggle all the way back. Hmmm, this was starting to seriously get my focused attention. Now I’m not one who likes visits to Doctors offices but it seemed a trip to my Primary Care Physician was in order. Tests were done - Spirometry, Blood, and a chest X-Ray. And... all came back normal. Wonderful! Except we still had no idea what was behind my symptoms...

I was now experiencing shortness of breath and feeling feint doing something as simple as taking our dogs for a walk. Now for most of you you're probably well ahead of me and the warning signs are screaming in the background. I didn't want to acknowledge the elephant riding on the bike with me, but my family history does include heart disease going back several generations on my father's side. I'm sure I was hoping my Primary Care Doctor would find something simple like an upper respiratory infection, prescribe some antibiotics, and I could pedal on my merry way. He hadn't done that so I was forced to consider the second, far less favorable, path of possibilities.

Knowing my family history I had been under the care of a couple of Doctors at South Denver Cardiology Associates for several years. One of them, Richard Collins (now retired) had convinced me almost from the get-go to switch to a plant-based diet and had put me, like millions of other Americans, on statins to control high cholesterol. The diet and statins, along with lots of exercise and no smoking or drinking, worked but he was clear with me - there was a genetic component to this that could not be ignored.

So I made the call to my current South Denver Doc, Dr. David Schuchman. They're not seeing many patients in-person due to COVID, but after hearing my symptoms he scheduled me in almost immediately. The Angels were starting to assemble.

I wasn't exhibiting classic symptoms - no chest pain or discomfort by example. Except when experiencing symptoms I felt perfectly fine. Still, he thought it prudent to get me in for an angiogram and heart catherization and explained that if they found a blockage they'd insert stents and I could likely go home the same day as the procedure which would take about two hours. This procedure has become so routine its now considered outpatient and the catheter is now threaded to the heart through a tiny incision right behind your wrist. OK, wasn't real thrilled about having stents in my heart but even there the technology has come a long way. The stents are now drug-infused to prevent many of the complications of old (like 10 or 20 years ago) so how could I go wrong? The road ahead seemed to be well-marked and easy to follow.

Tuesday, the 21st of April, was a beautiful Colorado day, sunny and promising warm Springtime temperatures. My procedure was scheduled at Littleton Adventist Hospital. Driving from my home, traffic was non-existent thanks to Colorado Governor Polis' Covid Stay At Home Order so in no time they were taking my temperature, making sure I was wearing a mask, and whisking me off to be prepped for the procedure. They only allowed my wife to accompany me a little way so soon I was alone not aware that the next time I would see her, if ever, would be nearly a week away,

It's about time for some good news don't you think? The angiogram did find almost a complete blockage in the right coronary artery and two stents were inserted. Blood was now flowing the way that it should. When I awoke in recovery Dr. Cedrone, who did the procedure, thought he'd like to keep me overnight just for observation. While disappointed not to be going home immediately I was willing to spend an extra day making sure everything was fine. Little did I know but the Angels were really starting to assemble...

Tuesday night I went to bed around 9 p.m. and quickly dozed off. It was time for my next Angel to prepare to step on stage. This Angel took the guise of a CNA by the name of Sydney Bailey who has apparently just completed her Nursing Program. Apparently sometime in the middle of the night she was glancing through the monitors and thought something on mine looked off. What she didn't quite know was that my heart had developed a fatal arrhythmia. If she had not checked on me when she did I would have passed from this life in my sleep never to inflict another blog posting on my kind and gentle readers. If Angels earn their wings, in my book she earned hers in that moment on that night.

Her awareness and quick actions set in motion a multitude of steps that would extend the better part of the night and the rest of the week. CPR, defibrillation, another trip to the Heart Cath lab to check to see if my stents had collapsed (they hadn't), intubation and being placed on a ventilator (that same device made famous by COVID that we don't seem to have enough of).

I awoke midmorning on Wednesday and quickly realized something had happened though I could only guess as to what. With a tube down your throat and your hands in mitts (so you don't try to yank the tube out) its kind of difficult to communicate but eventually the nurse allowed me to use a white board to ask some questions. By mid-afternoon they had removed the tube (something I would not like to ever experience again) and I was on a path not of my choosing but one I was happy to follow given that the alternate trail was literally a dead end.

By Thursday the doctors were recommending that I have a combination pacemaker/in-cardiac defibrillator implanted and that procedure was set for the following day. After what happened after my first procedure I was understandably very (VERY) nervous about having them do anything to my heart but agreed after coming to the conclusion that this would protect me going forward and give me a new lease on life. Still, I was counting on more angels to see me through.

The Friday procedure went like clockwork and after about an hour and a half I was awake and heading back to my room for more 'observation' in anticipation of possibly being released on Saturday. I'd be remiss not to say by this point the original complaint - shortness of breath and feeling feint - had disappeared which was a wonderful thing. In their place of course I was now bruised over much of my body, my sternum where they had done CPR was extremely painful to the touch, I felt like a pincushion from IV lines here, there, and everywhere, and I now had a 3-4" incision below my left collarbone as well as a not-so-discreet lump in my chest that was the actual implanted device. My angels and I truly had a busy week.

As I write this I'm now at home taking things one day (one hour?) at a time. I went for a walk yesterday and today with my wife and puppies and feel amazingly... alive.  Alive. Thanks to the angels among us, that's more than I could hope for. And for that, I am truly thankful.

Grand Reopening?

So there we have it. President Trump, not quite understanding the Constitution he swore to uphold four years ago, is proclaiming he has “total” authority to reopen the country. The Governors push back saying it was the States who implemented the shutdown and stay-at-home orders and it will be they who decide when and how their individual States start making the return to whatever the new normal will look like.

I humbly submit that both the President and the nation’s Governors have it wrong.

It will be you and I, and millions of individual Americans, who will decide when and how the nation ‘reopens’. Perhaps you, like I, are starting to think about the level of risk you’re willing to accept going forward. The risk, of course, being catching the COVID-19 virus and possibly dying from it. There’s also the risk of passing it unknowingly to our loved ones as well as others in our communities.

My wife and I have been to the grocery store just twice in the last six weeks. We’ve supplemented that with ordering groceries online thereby transferring most of our personal risk to some Braver than We Instacart or Amazon shopper. How quickly will we regain our comfort level to return more frequently to our neighborhood grocery store? The President or the Governor of our great State can’t make that determination for us; only my wife and I can do that.

We haven’t eaten at a restaurant since late February. How soon will we be comfortable going back to our favorite eateries that more often than not before the Pandemic were standing room only. Neither Mr. Trump or Colorado Governor Polis can force us to start eating out again. There’s talk that when restaurants do reopen the wait staff will continue wearing PPE (masks and gloves) as they serve us and that establishments will take the temperature of their patrons before allowing them to enter. Yum.

The good news is that Apple and Google, those twin bastions when it comes to protecting our privacy, are developing phone apps that will alert you when you (or at least your phone) has been in close proximity to someone carrying COVID. Are you going to self quarantine every time your phone pings with an alert? How many times will that alert go off as you stroll down a crowded street? If it pings, how safe will you feel returning home to your family?

Do you have kids? What calculations are going through your mind as you try to determine what will make you feel ok about having them return to crowded classrooms, or after school soccer practice? Take your child to a packed daycare because your employer has reopened? I’d bet it’s not going to be automatic just because some government bureaucrat or even your boss insists its suddenly safe for the schools and daycares to reopen.

A tough calculus will come in the decision to return to your place of work once your employer says to come on back. There’s talk about continued social distancing in the workplace. Great. How are you going to get up to your office on the 10th floor? Use a crowded elevator? That contact tracing phone app that tells you you've been exposed to the virus - picture it going off on everyone's phone all at once in the elevator. Twenty people suddenly looking around wondering who's the Carrier.  Climb the slightly less crowded stairwell? Will you return to using Light Rail or public transit for your commute? How about attending all those lovely face to face meetings you’ve been missing so much?

The litmus test, the canary in the coal mine, for me will be when I feel comfortable going to, of all things, a movie theatre. Stadium seating, comfortable as it may be, is the antithesis of social distancing and I used to cringe long before COVID when the person sitting next to me was obviously under the weather. For you it might be returning to Coors Field or Empower at Mile High Stadium or the Pepsi Center. What’s going to make you feel safe crowded in with 80,000 of your closest friends? Just Mr. Trump's or your local elected official's say so?

I fear the last to gain back trust in their own sense of safety will be the elderly, especially those in assisted living and care facilities. I’m going out on a limb here but I’ll bet the directive from Big Brother to reopen will come way, way, way before it’s anywhere close to safe for us to resume visiting grandma and granddad in person again.

Of course, everyone is waiting for the promised vaccine for COVID. Yet no vaccine is 100% effective. 80-90% effectiveness would be considered outstanding but that leaves ten to twenty percent of us still at risk of catching this nasty bug. And if COVID has demonstrated anything its that it is not your grandaddy's flu.

On a societal level Mr. Trump may have a point when he argues the cure can’t be worse than the disease. Whether Americans are going to automatically trust his judgement about when things are safe enough to resume 'normal' activities is another question. Of course I could well be wrong. Lots of folks are just itching to get right back into the old swing of things. Heck, there's a sizable population of less than civic minded people who never stopped. Damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead.

Nor will we likely knee-jerk our acceptance of what Dr. Fauci or other Health officials tell us. Everyone, from Mr. Trump to the scientists, to government officials, to us as individual citizens, underestimated to some extent the severity of what was about to hit us.  The old adage says 'fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me.' Ultimately the choices will not be  made by those who think they have the power to decide. Each of us, individually, in our own time and our own way will have to decide for ourselves. Collectively, over the next days, weeks, and months, we'll be making millions of these decisions. May they prove to be the right ones. America, lets look before we leap; the waters ahead are uncharted and likely to be deep.

Where are we now? Really?

Safeway still limiting ‘essential paper products’ to
one per customer as I wait patiently in line
this last Thursday 

This was the week Bernie Sanders dropped his bid for the Democratic nomination for President. While he apparently had a ton of support among the young, history has shown that being young and actually voting don’t always correlate. Among the older population there was widespread fear of what was purported to be Sanders’ socialist agenda. How much of a socialist Sanders really is is debatable, and I for one supported his ideas for widely available and affordable universal healthcare as one option, but perhaps America needs to take pause in light of the current pandecomomic crisis as to how much socialism we’re really ready to accept. Rightly or wrongly Americans facing dire economic uncertainty seem more than willing to accept all the government bailouts they can get. The Federal Reserve and Congress are spending trillions (what’s a trillion? A one followed by 12 zeroes- $1,000,000,000,000) to subsidize individuals, families and business enterprises.

I’m not disputing the need for this stimulus, but if that’s not socialism at its grandest I don’t know what is. My wife and I will apparently be receiving $2,400 as a couple. What that does in reality for us is cut our tax bill, now postponed until July, by about half. I’m one of those crazy fools who have always been happy to pay taxes. I like having armed forces to keep me free, police and fire and ambulance personnel to save my bacon if necessary, roads that are more asphalt than pothole, and good teachers to educate our children. In short, I’m willing to pay my share.

I’m not a Republican (or a Democrat for that matter) but I share their belief that I don’t want government overly involved in my life (the difference between the two parties seems to boil down in how you define ‘overly’). Like many of you who are old enough (o.k. Boomer!) I’ve lived through lots of economic upheavals - Y2K, 911, and the last “Great Recession” just as more recent examples. I look at the grief former President Obama has gotten for his bailout of the financial services (banks...) and auto industry during the last recession and can only chuckle as America puts its collective hand out for a historic hand out from the Federal government today. Again, I’m ok with that. I think the Federal government, along with State and local government, has a role to play beyond just telling us to wash our hands, stay home, and wear a mask. But perhaps we need to finally be honest with ourselves and acknowledge that we’re happy to be the model of Capitalism in good times but have definite socialist tendencies when the stuffing hits the fan.

On the good news front, now might be the time to invest some of that financial stimulus you receive in manufacturers of that uniquely human staple, toilet tissue. The demand for this spiked in mid-March as much as 845% according to NCSolutions, a data and analytics firm that tracks these important matters. And while we’re not hoarding in April at the same rate as in March, demand is expected to stay strong:

“Will the workforce go back to work like they did before? If people work from home, this (increased demand for toilet tissue) could be much more prolonged,” said NC-Solutions CEO Linda Dupree.

“The inherent vice of capitalism is the unequal sharing of blessings; the inherent virtue of socialism is the equal sharing of miseries.” Winston Churchill in a speech to the British House of Commons, October 22, 1945