If the late, colorful Yogi Berra, the master of mixed metaphors and countless colloquial expressions that lack logic – yet somehow ring true – was still with us today, I’m quite sure he would have come up with at least a couple of “Yogi-isms” to put into perspective, as only Yogi could do, the everyday adjustments being forced upon us by an unseen enemy.

“Social distancing … brings us together,” he may well have uttered after observing people trying to stay at least six feet away from each other while still yakking it up in friendly conversation.

And I bet he could have crafted something profound regarding that six-feet-away rule, perhaps reminding people if they don’t stay 6 feet away they may find themselves six feet under.

Humor, if well-placed, is one of the tools in our proverbial toolbox to brandish during such times as these, when many of us find ourselves facing an internal struggle between two fears: Risking infection by going out, even with all the precautions, or risking the potential negative effects of isolation.

Fortunately, 20 years into this, the 21st century, the vast majority of us can communicate at will with almost anyone and everyone we wish to at almost any time we agree upon.

It’s ironic in a sense that since the proliferation of technology to a level we of a certain age once thought to be confined to the annals of science fiction, most discussion about feature-packed cell phones and social media apps popping up left and right has revolved around the unease many of us – again, mainly those of us of a certain age – feel seeing younger folks staring endlessly at their devices, oblivious to everything around them.

But who among us “certain agers” can’t say we’re grateful for apps like user-friendly Zoom, whether for business meetings or a friendly shoot-the-breeze session among friends?

And how about this “remote learning” setup? Sure there were bound to be some glitches here and there, but as far as I know it’s going along pretty well, considering.

Yep, there’s no doubt having this kind of technology right here at our fingertips is playing a major role in helping us keep going during these aberrant times.

Which raises the question, how did folks handle stay-at-home orders – quarantines – during epidemics or pandemics back when cutting-edge technology meant your house had electricity?

I don’t know, but I do know that ancestors of some of our neighbors out in Milford were forced to take sudden, fairly drastic measures in the winter and early spring of 1899.

An epidemic of scarlet fever was sweeping Milford, according to a tattered, yellowed remnant of the Jan. 26, 1899 edition of The Farmers’ Cabinet I found the other day.

On page two of the newspaper, the predecessor of today’s Milford Cabinet, appeared an editorial, in the tiny font characteristic of the era, praising town officials for their response.

“Very general satisfaction is expressed at the vigorous action taken by the local board of health last Friday, in closing all public schools, Sunday schools, the library and other places of gathering where children congregate,” the editorial began.

The action was “the first real attempt of town authorities to get the scarlet fever under control, and (this might sound familiar) it is thought if the citizens and those who have had the disease in their families will cooperate, the attempt will be successful.”

But, the writer cautioned, “all effort will be in vain, unless more care is taken on the part of those who have had the disease in their families than has been evidenced heretofore,” a wordy, roundabout way of saying “if you have been exposed, stay home.”

The editorial fairly chastizes parents, who, “knowing their children had the fever, have failed to call a doctor or notify the board of health … resulting in the spread of the disease.”

Then, as now, there were those who scoffed at the stay-at-home orders. And that didn’t sit well with the Cabinet editorialist, some 121 plus years ago.

“In plain language,” he wrote, “people have been criminally careless and have endangered the lives of others by reckless exposure … to which the spread of the disease is largely attributable.”

It’s a lesson that holds true today, nearly a century and a quarter later.

Dean Shalhoup’s column appears Sundays in The Telegraph. He may be reached at 594-1256 or dshalhoup@nashuatelegraph.com.

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