I started out with the title "Our Year of Misery", and then, I revised it because I wouldn't want to read a piece with the word misery in it. And, truthfully, this year has NOT been miserable. We've been "all in" with a five person 'pod' which includes our only child, our son-in-law, and our only grandchild. I've been fully engaged in helping a new person find his voice. I had a bird's eye view watching a magnificent, vibrant city come to a complete standstill, and slowly awaken again.
However, this has been a miserable year in some way for all of us. Some of us have lost jobs. Our children have lost whole chunks of school. We've all experienced real fear which isn't like going through the haunted house and it's over. Instead, this kind of fear just lasts and lasts and lasts. We are either afraid of getting sick with the damn virus, or we know someone who's been sick with the damn virus and is now worried about side effects. Some of us have paid the ultimate price and our loved ones have passed either directly or indirectly because of the damn virus.
The constant preventative measures of masking and hand washing aren't terrible, but they are annoying. I don't mind the hand washing so much as the mask which is off-putting. It can be hot and uncomfortable. It impedes social interaction because as humans we read so many social clues through facial expressions. And for us glasses wearers, I'm sick of either steamed up glasses or the 'preparation' of my glasses with fog defender each and every time I go outside.
I'm thought I was tired of staying home, but now, even though I am vaccinated, I'm finding myself faintly agoraphobic (afraid to leave my house). I'm nervous around other people, and I just want them to stay away from me. In New York, I didn't have to tell people to stay away from me. In Arizona, well, it's a different story. No one seems to understand why I'm uncomfortable sitting inside a restaurant. The nurse in one of the doctor's offices wanted to sit right on top of me while chitchatting. (She wasn't doing a blood pressure check or anything else.) She actually got offended when I asked her to back away from me. I know I have very little chance of catching the virus at this point, but I'm still very leery of social interaction. Part of me wonders if I will every be comfortable with social mingling again.
The litany of business failures is yet to be tallied. I know we are going to have fewer restaurants, fewer stores, and fewer movie theaters. I've learned our gigantic TV's can actually replace the 'movie' experience. I already knew MOST sporting events are better from a recliner than in person. And, I've always hated the 'mall'. I will miss restaurants, but I can now order take out like a pro.
As usual in extreme situations, everything is not all bad. I've learned new skills. I've expanded on my former hobbies. I've realized I enjoy 'virtual' bridge (card game) on the computer as much as an in person bridge game. My on-line shopping skills are now razor sharp. My appreciation of the small things has reawakened. (For example, I've enjoyed watching the seasons change by observing the trees around me.) While I've been cut off from larger outside entertainments, I've been endlessly entertained this past year by a toddler learning to talk, starting 'school' (mommy's day out), and learning how to help him manage all those emotions flooding on-line for him. Yesterday, a thirty something (here in Arizona) mentioned they now know all their neighbors because it has become a neighborhood ritual to sit outside in the evenings on their front lawns visiting with one another across the lawns while their children run, play and ride their bikes. Prior to the pandemic, they didn't know a single person on their street.
We have also learned to treasure our rituals. Suddenly, high school graduations, proms, weddings, showers, birthday parties, Mother's Day, Father's Day, funerals, Trick or Treating, Christmas caroling, Christmas and Thanksgiving family gatherings, and just plain parties turn out to be events we have missed dreadfully. I don't think we realized how important our cultural rituals really were until they suddenly vanished. Who knew?
I'm a silver lining person, so I've been trying to think what are the positive aspects of the past year. I'm not sure these are all positive, but in no particular order, this is what I've observed: 'School' has come out of the closet. The problems of our public schools can't be out of sight, out of mind anymore. The great divide most of us in the 'ed' biz have known and fretted about for eons is plain for everyone to see: If you are poor, you have a poorer education from the get-go, and you fall farther and farther behind. Even in the cities, internet access is not guaranteed to a child. In rural America, the access problem is not only to the internet, but also to higher classes in math and science. Now, this just sounds like one more bad thing, but it's really not. Parents have had the scales fall from their eyes about how hard teaching actually is. If nothing else, parents having to acknowledge how hard teachers work has been a wonderful moment for us. It almost makes up for having to teach remotely. As if teaching wasn't hard enough before......
The pandemic has thrown the workplace into a configuration it's never been before. The virus has proven it is NOT necessary to commute to an office each and every day. Certainly not in the new economy world where business is done electronically. While the blurring of work/home is distressing to Boomers, that's not necessarily the case for the X,Y,Z generations that follow us. Of course, revamping the workplace is a nightmare for the IRS. The tax returns for 2020 are going to be an exercise in creative accounting, and the tax auditors are going to be working lots and lots of overtime. It's kind of a giggle to bumfuzzle the IRS.
We've all gotten a much bigger appreciation of how important freedom of movement is. Even if your vacation time has usually been a trip to see grandma, not being able to get up and go has been a source of depression. I'm definitely ready to hit the road. I want to go to a goofy out of the way museum. I need a State Fair. Goodness, gracious, I'd even take a Country Fair. Who knew I'd miss the Home Arts Exposition so much? Not to mention real art museums, fine dining, the ballet, chamber music and the theater.
My final point is we can see that teeny, tiny pinpoint of light at the end of this year long tunnel. This past year has been true terror at times, mingled with incredible boredom, but perhaps there's a big takeaway. This unbelievable year has given us a profound appreciation for what we truly need in our lives.
