“No! When?”

Ellis was in the hospital. Had that virus. His oldest son had taken him to the infirmary. Ochsner, the same mega-medical conglomerate who were the providers for my wife, Nia, is now where Ellis is sequestered. And, well, yes being in the hospital with coronavirus in New Orleans devolves into a major form of isolation

He can’t have no visitors. Including family. Nobody. That’s for his own good and also for the good of the broader community. People afflicted with the virus need intensive care and they are also highly contagious, meaning during treatment they require close contact with their care-givers but are simultaneously a major danger to visitors.

Illness with the virus is a lonely situation. The attending medical personnel are under massive strain. They have to be extra-careful in terms of administering treatment to victims afflicted by the coronavirus and at the same time, because of the daily demands, medical personnel can not spend extended time next to, talking with, touching. . . besides, most of their patients are on a ventilator. The very equipment needed to help cure victims makes it impossible for the person to hold conversations with their caregiver.

Safely providing medical treatment is an arduous and, yes, a dangerous occupation. Moreover, it’s an isolated environment within which to recuperate. Plus, ultimately and tragically, bereft of contact from family and friends, the virus is an especially lonely way to die.

Moreover, I don’t know how the medical personnel do it. How they keep going. How they keep themselves mentally fit.

During the coronavirus season is no time to be sick. Not that there is ever any good time to be sick, but these virus-challenged conditions create an atmosphere for recuperating that is much worse than simply not good.

We’ve got some turbulent waters to cross, waters that will require us to deal with tons of therapy and, in the most extreme cases, endless hours of exhaustive and intensive treatment. In the interim, there is a daunting reality: the economic wealth as we knew it pre-virus will not survive the onslaught of repercussions that will be the result of the unavoidable business slow-downs and shut-downs that inevitably will happen in the days, weeks, and months ahead.

Ellis Marsalis Jr. was born November 14, 1934. He made his transition on April 1, 2020. He is survived by six sons: Branford (saxophone), Wynton (trumpet), Ellis III (photography), Delfeayo (trombone), Mboya, and Jason (percussion).

I produced an Ellis Marsalis album, Piano In E, featuring his solo piano music and interpretations. I think about those and many other music times we shared. I especially recall the melodious way he could make those keys sing. New Orleans, and indeed musical audiences worldwide, are sure gonna miss Mr. Marsalis now that he’s gone.