Just so I NEVER forget.....
April 8, 2020
Stratford, CT
This is my experience and observations of the Novel Coronavirus (Covid-19) Pandemic, officially declared by the WHO on March 11th, 2020, based on a meme that was circulating around Facebook.
I don’t know when I first heard about the virus, probably when the NYTimes started covering it in Wuhan and then Italy. I remember the numbers of infections and deaths, the details about lockdowns, the photos of famous public places empty, and many of the heart-wrenching stories. I don’t remember when I became concerned. I do remember when things began to change. The first person I knew personally to be infected, for sure, was our vet, about which I learned on Monday; he is recovering.
My wife’s office sent all workers home by March 6, if memory serves, first as a test run and then indefinitely. Schools in our town closed on Thursday, March 12, when a child in town was diagnosed with Covid-19; neighboring towns closed schools in a domino effect. My son’s orchestra teacher had the foresight to send him home with his cello each day that week just in case he couldn’t return. The cello is home with us.
Schools are mandated to be closed til April 20 but still subject to re-evaluation. Parents are juggling remote work with distance learning. We expect the governor to close schools til fall any day now. Distance learning keeps my kids occupied maybe 1-2 hours each morning. Nothing strenuous. My online classes continue and my in-person classes convert online. I actually feel like I have less time than before, perhaps because we are all home all the time. At our house we are on our own for breakfast, try to gather at approximately the same time for lunch (something easy; everyone does their own), and we spend evenings together and have a family meal at the table (but, we did this about 5 nights a week already.) There are a few more chores and a lot more screentime. Animal Crossing: New Horizons is our go-to relaxing activity; I am even playing. And we make a point to log in to play at the same time as my brother-in-law, the doctor, who also uses the game to decompress. We have watched several movies (The Village, Emma, Portrait of a Lady on Fire, Knives Out), even more tv ("Outlander," "Grey's Anatomy," "Grantchester,"), had a family foosball tournament, found some Christmas crackers and had a little celebration.
I don’t remember exactly when non-essential stores and businesses were mandated closed, but I remember being surprised at what was an essential business (I checked--Governor Lamont ordered it on March 20, effective the night of March 23.) Landscaping, really? Liquor stores are open to keep alcoholics out of withdrawl. Hair salons are closed and we all joke about getting shaggy or cutting our own.
Disney closes indefinitely, the entire Las Vegas strip closes. Time Square closes. Broadway closes shows (on the night that the musical “6” was to make its opening.) Movie releases are postponed or offered online, like Emma.
We started our own stocking up by the first weekend in March. Panic buying set in when schools closed. Yes, we bought toilet paper, but we did not hoard. We also got a ham and a corned beef because they would last in the fridge longer than chicken. We got canned veggies (peas, asparagus, mixed greens from Sylvia's), canned beans, taco shells, pasta, sauce, ground turkey for the freezer, potatoes, cabbage, carrots, cheeses, deli meats, coffee, seltzer, cereal, lots of microwavable foods (like grains, Indian dals, pot pies.) We got ingredients for Bud to make his favorite lasagna; Sis wanted flour and sugar for baking. We set up an extra bookshelf in our kitchen to hold the staples because we have such limited pantry space. We made sure we had thermometer, necessary meds but Rx and OTC, distilled water, Chlorox spray, cleaning supplies. We felt prepared. Whole aisles were near empty, particularly paper goods. Later, the whole pasta and sauce section would be empty. I haven’t been in a grocery or Target in at least 27 days. We made our last run together about 15 minutes after school closures were announced on March 12.
Disney closes indefinitely, the entire Las Vegas strip closes. Time Square closes. Broadway closes shows (on the night that the musical “6” was to make its opening.) Movie releases are postponed or offered online, like Emma.
We started our own stocking up by the first weekend in March. Panic buying set in when schools closed. Yes, we bought toilet paper, but we did not hoard. We also got a ham and a corned beef because they would last in the fridge longer than chicken. We got canned veggies (peas, asparagus, mixed greens from Sylvia's), canned beans, taco shells, pasta, sauce, ground turkey for the freezer, potatoes, cabbage, carrots, cheeses, deli meats, coffee, seltzer, cereal, lots of microwavable foods (like grains, Indian dals, pot pies.) We got ingredients for Bud to make his favorite lasagna; Sis wanted flour and sugar for baking. We set up an extra bookshelf in our kitchen to hold the staples because we have such limited pantry space. We made sure we had thermometer, necessary meds but Rx and OTC, distilled water, Chlorox spray, cleaning supplies. We felt prepared. Whole aisles were near empty, particularly paper goods. Later, the whole pasta and sauce section would be empty. I haven’t been in a grocery or Target in at least 27 days. We made our last run together about 15 minutes after school closures were announced on March 12.
On March 12, plans for international seminary students to return home immediately began; on March 14, I went to say goodbye to a friend who was returning to Indonesia (she won’t be back.) We had previously made plans to spend Easter together—to decorate eggs, see a kung fu performance, meet our horse, and have a great time. We are so sad.
Self-distancing measures are mandated by the governor on April 1, 2020. It was not an April fools’ trick; no one really did those this year. Tape on the floors at grocery stores to help distance shoppers (6ft) from each other and plastic sneeze guards are erected to protect cashiers. Store hours are limited. A limited number of people are allowed inside stores at one time so there are long lines outside the store doors in the mornings hoping to get their 1 to 2 allotted paper product. There is an 8 pm curfew for all businesses. Many places set aside the first hour for seniors over 60. My in-laws take advantage of this. An online meme encourages people not to shop on April 1-3, to allow recipients of SNAP to get what they need and for people to avoid buying WIC so there aren’t shortages. Schools and especially their cafeteria workers are packing lunches each day for families who are food insecure. Teachers help gather donations to food banks.
Self-distancing measures are mandated by the governor on April 1, 2020. It was not an April fools’ trick; no one really did those this year. Tape on the floors at grocery stores to help distance shoppers (6ft) from each other and plastic sneeze guards are erected to protect cashiers. Store hours are limited. A limited number of people are allowed inside stores at one time so there are long lines outside the store doors in the mornings hoping to get their 1 to 2 allotted paper product. There is an 8 pm curfew for all businesses. Many places set aside the first hour for seniors over 60. My in-laws take advantage of this. An online meme encourages people not to shop on April 1-3, to allow recipients of SNAP to get what they need and for people to avoid buying WIC so there aren’t shortages. Schools and especially their cafeteria workers are packing lunches each day for families who are food insecure. Teachers help gather donations to food banks.
our cat Ro helps with the masks
We have made masks with whatever we have in the house because elastic and such are scarce. Our first masks were made with shoelaces, quilt fabric, and bandanas I already had. I managed to buy some fabric ribbon online. We’ve made two kinds—one with two layers of fabric and some pleats and a no-sew Japanese origami one that I did sew to reinforce. Hair ties are too tight, though now people have made extenders to help. Sis has been helping me with these, taking her first sewing lesson. Now she can make them on her own. She’s giving one to a neighbor.
my driveway design
We are trying to encourage community and connect to one another remotely. I text, email, comment online, or even call friends and family each day. I wrote four letters this week to send to friends who aren’t online. On Facebook, I spread information and fun ideas, trying to show support and encouragement to my group. People are sharing free classes and easy DIY ideas like beer bread. I see a new self-care or meditation idea everyday and, for each of those, I see several posts on how stressed people are. I “chalked our walk” with messages of hope. I put a literally sign of hope in our window. Our giant Hedwig, a white owl stuffed animal, is being moved from window to window in a virtual not-a-bear hunt. We planted some lettuce plants that we got from a friend at the barn. We let the little kids across the street play on our swingset, since my teens don’t use it anymore; their mom didn’t want to take them to the public park and she brings them over and watches. Sometimes we talk, twenty feet or more apart. I’m glad someone is using the swingset. Yesterday, I met two neighbors and their kids, whom I did not know. I’ve set up a chat group for neighbors I don’t see often. I talked to my friend from England, Lambeth, who was quite frank about his chances in the virus; it hurts to think he is right and hard to think of goodbye. Thankfully, we have email now. I talk to my parents every few days; they are in the woods, with little phone reception, going into the city for new groceries and laundry every now and again. We talk about birds like the American bittern in their tree and the wood ducks in their box, about to fly. There are beavers stealing deer corn and actual cows wandering in from a neighbor's property--cowboys on horseback even retrieved them! We try not to talk about the possibilities or the government response; it raises everyone's blood pressure. My in-laws text everyday and I answer. Its odd to think how long it will be before we see anyone. But quite literally better safe than sorry.
cards for offline friends
Parks, trails, beaches are not closed in our town, but police are breaking up groups of more than 5 people in public.
All sports events and seasons cancelled. Students in CT start an online petition not to cancel sports outright but to postpone just in case. It will be a moot point. Also cancelled, just for our kids: the orchestra trip to DC, 2 dance competitions, a Latin field trip, another club field trip. The dance recital is postponed. Yearbook work continues online. Kung fu and dance classes continue online; we can still go ride our horse at the private barn.
All concerts, tours, festivals, entertainment events - cancelled. For us, this meant no Indigo Girls, no Riverdance, and no BTS, until the concerts are rescheduled. The Indigo Girls do an online livestream which touches our hearts. We’ve also watched La Boheme online from the Met Opera, James Corden’s “Homefest” with BTS and Dear Evan Hansen etc.
All weddings, family celebrations, holiday gatherings - cancelled. People come up with ingenious ideas to celebrate—Zoom meetings, car parades by houses with birthday kids, Seders online, Easter packets from church.
crocheting during online church
All worship services, gyms and dine-in only restaurants are closed. Takeout is available and we try to support our local places, choosing one a week (though I am extra freaked out by touching take out containers, for some reason; not sure why those bother me more than mail or groceries, but they really do.) Some restaurants are just closed, probably permanently. And others are sending food, via donations, to hospitals, police, and firefighters. Our church is having online services which bring us together; I enjoy watching other religious services, including my professor’s church in NYC and my neighbor’s synagogue. We celebrate Easter at our house, in a non-Christian, welcoming spring Unitarian Universalist kind of way. We are foregoing an outdoor egg hunt in favor of hiding our collection of plastic eggs in the house. There won’t be candy or Easter baskets (which are my favorite.) It’s just not necessary. We will have a special dessert with a bigger meal but nothing that requires a trip to the store.
There is barely anyone on the roads. Citizens are highly encouraged to self-quarantine, only leaving their homes for essential supplies and to wear masks and gloves while outside. I see the Merritt Parkway empty at rush hour. I see no cars in the parking lots of the mall. But the line for the drive-through pharmacy stretched out to the street.
the Merritt one weekday at 5:30 (my daughter took the pic)
Essential service workers are terrified to go to work. Medical field workers are afraid to go home to their families. I’m hearing stories from my brother-in-law who is a doctor in Fairfield County and my sister who is a nurse in Texas. I am in awe of their bravery and their commitment. I am so proud of them. I worry about their safety; I'm angry that they are put at risk by the lack of protection. For myself, I wish I could be volunteering at hospice, but volunteers are not allowed; I'm setting up telechaplaincy to reach out to families who can't visit patients and for patients at home. I am, a little bit relieved not to be at risk, and for that I am more than a little ashamed at my lack of bravery and altruism. Not like my sister and brother-in-law.
I can’t even begin to put into words my disappointment—no, disgust—at our federal leadership. Not only is the current administration dedicated to small government and states’ rights—and yes, those are dog whistles for a nasty kind of nationalism—it actually wants to hand over the power to corporations, who are using this pandemic to make money, more money, for billionaire oligarchs. Ever since corporations were declared people by SCOTUS in the 2010 Citizens United case, big businesses have been the main constituents of the Republican party, and, with this administration, the government. It is even more clear now—the focus on Wall Street and corporate bailouts and a miserable little loan of only $1200 to people making less than $75K for the extent of the pandemic thus far (with 10,000,000 newly out of work just these two weeks), with states fighting each other for PPE and medical supplies, the dismissal of the pandemic team to head the federal response, the president’s own dismissal of facts and refusal to promote masks, his inadequate use of the nationalization of medical supply chain, his support for an unproved treatment made by a company in which he has stock—that it is their purses not the people who matter.
I’m writing this I remember. I recognize the enormous privilege inherent in how my family is coping with this pandemic. We are lucky that my wife has a career and company that allows her to work at home. We have the means to stock up on supplies for weeks at a time. We have food, shelter, and a stable broadband connection. My kids are good students, disciplined and self-starting so that distance learning has not been difficult at all. Our four cats keep us entertained. We have a yard we can go out in. We have good insurance should anyone get sick. I know how lucky this is.
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