The Hindsight of 2020

Friday, March 13. Six years ago on this exact day, quarantine began.

I remember getting the emails from the elementary school where my kids attended. They were explaining that based on federal mandates, they were closing school for two weeks, and the kids would do e-learning at home. They were sent home with their laptops, and instructions on how to log on.

My husband and I tried to make the best of it. My son’s birthday party plans had just gotten canceled. He was turning 8 the next day and we had planned a party with a bunch of buddies to attend the Switchbacks soccer game. Two days before I had gotten a call from them that it was canceled. 

Instead of celebrating with friends, we built a giant fort in the basement, including a lamp and beds, and told them we were going to sleep down there. It was an “adventure.” We piled a mountain of board games on our dining room table.

The kids played battleship and chess with their cousins in Vermont over Zoom. 

We drew chalk art on our driveway.

As a part of homeschool “science” we researched and created a sourdough starter from scratch. (Which is still alive and thriving today.)

I spent hours online trying to sort out who to trust as a good source of information. Each side claimed the other had an agenda and debates and conspiracy theories escalated wildly.

We heard how COVID was wreaking havoc on small businesses, so we ordered take out from our favorite local taco place.

We picked up a make-at-home pizza kit from Paninos and the kids watched the oven like a TV.

We tried grocery pickup for the first time.

During that time everything felt dangerous. Public spaces. Gas pumps. Cell phones. Even people. The fear was palpable. I remember ordering Clorox wipes – which we had previously banned from our house because of their toxicity – and wiping down my phone again and again. I washed my hands compulsively. 

Transparent barriers were quickly erected everywhere at stores and banks and hotels so that even if there were visual contact, there was no possibility of physical contact. Businesses put spots on the floor spaced six feet apart and posted signage about mask requirements.

Superfluous mask mandates and social distancing rules sent the message that human contact was dangerous and to be avoided at all costs. But the rationalizations for all the rules were inconsistent and emotion-driven, making it easy to attribute them to political agendas.

COVID-19 introduced us to a whole list of new terminology: social distancing, flatten the curve, mask up, social circles, N95, essential workers, mask mandates, shelter in place. It was like the new language of the pandemic.

During lockdown I leaned hard into two things I typically try to avoid overusing: social media and alcohol. 

In the absence of the face-to-face connections I craved, I dove head first into social media. It was a time when everything was going digital. School was happening digitally. So many businesses were pivoting to an online platform. Our church (where I had worked as Communications Director for seven years) scrambled to find a way to share their services online. Our pastor, preaching to an empty room, was live streamed over YouTube. 

Our small group met over Zoom. 

But then a surprising thing happened.

With our normal distractions paused and the pace of life so much slower, people rediscovered their creativity in new, unexpected ways. 

John Krasinski created Some Good News, a web series highlighting positive stories. In the midst of all the loss and chaos of the lockdown, people flocked to it like moths to a flame, desperate for hope amidst the darkness of the daily death tallies.

Metallica and Elton John collaborated with Miley Cyrus and Yo-Yo Ma to release a new version of the song “Nothing Else Matters.”

An Italian opera singer serenaded his city of Florence each night from his balcony during lockdown.

People all over the world discovered their latent creativity.

Or remember the 8 o’clock howl?

It was like amidst the chaos and loss of control, we were discovering parts of our humanity and connectedness again.

Alcohol also felt like a balm. We stocked up our liquor cabinet and experimented with creating new cocktails. We had back porch happy hours anytime it was nice. When so many of our other freedoms were taken away, day drinking felt like a way to assert agency. 

I tried to balance the lockdown claustrophobia with a run streak, mapping out a new 5K route and running it every day. I would regularly meet friends for a walk in the park, poopoo-ing the social circle recommendations.

Skiing. Baseball games. Air travel. Dining out. Movies. Church. Schools. Gyms. Nothing was untouched by the virus. 

The pandemic changed the world in a way that could never be undone. There is now Before COVID and After COVID. 

I will never again take for granted the freedom to interact with people face-to-face … to shake hands, give hugs, and speak without plexiglass between us.

But over time, the fear and uncertainty and chaos fades. When I read this to my daughter tonight, she looked at me incredulously and said, “I don’t remember any of that! I just remember all the fun we had.”

Perhaps COVID-19 was the reminder the world needed to slow us down enough to focus on the things that actually matter.