Aside from 9/11, I don't really feel like I've experienced many historically significant moments in my lifetime--until now. I have a feeling that someday our grandchildren will ask in awe about our experience with COVID-19, just as we asked our own grandparents about the Great Depression.
Since memory is so slippery, here's a timeline of the twenty day span in which the coronavirus came to dominate our lives.
Friday, March 6th: Utah's Governor Gary Herbert declares a state of emergency in Utah. Truth to be told, this seemed like overkill to me at the time. After all, our state had only one active case at the time--an asymptomatic patient who was kept in isolation after testing positive on a cruise ship.
Saturday, March 7th: NomiAnn and Papa Kay drive all the way from Nebraska for a visit. On Saturday night, Papa Kay and I attended the ACDA (American Choral Director's Association) Legacy concert with the Tabernacle Choir and Orchestra at Temple Square, the Bells at Temple Square, and the Gabriel Trumpets. The concert was tremendous--quite possibly my favorite experience listening to the Tabernacle Choir perform. I think I would have cherished it even more if I'd realized how scarce live performances would become.
Sunday, March 8th: Church services are held as usual with our 27th East Ward at the 4th & P building. After the block, we head back to the pit to try out Papa Kay's fantastic game of Human Hungry Hippos. With activities like these, you can see why Papa Kay's a favorite with the youth.
Tuesday, March 10th: The United States surpasses 1000 cases of COVID-19. Meanwhile, Jason and I meet NomiAnn and Papa Kay at Chile Tepin for an amazing meal of molcajete.
Riquisima.
Wednesday, March 11th: NomiAnn and I enjoy a Girls Night Out with dinner at the Tin Roof Grill in Sandy followed by a terrific performance of Strictly Ballroom at the Hale Centre Theater. During intermission, we learn that the Utah Jazz game was cancelled right before tip-off when Rudy Gobert and another Jazz player tested positive for COVID-19. The total case count for Utah is now 5. The World Health Organization declares a global pandemic. Not everybody was freaked out though. We saw the funniest situation over dinner where a woman told a stranger how amazing his meal looked. He then offered her a bite and she accepted! She had a clean fork, but still very odd.
Thursday, March 12th: We turn on the news over lunch at work to listen to Governor Herbert address the state. He declares that by Monday there should be no gatherings larger than 100. He leaves the decision about whether or not to cancel school up to the individual districts. The Salt Lake City School District does not cancel. That same day, Grandpa Leland Junior Hansen passes away in Rupert, Idaho at the age of 94.
Friday, March 13th: Governor Herbert orders a soft closure of schools. Our children leave West High, Emerson Elementary, and Wasatch Elementary without any idea that they will not be back at all this school year.
Sunday, March 15th: We bid a sad farewell to NomiAnn and Papa Kay. Omaha Public Schools has also cancelled, and NomiAnn has only one day (Monday) back in the building to gather everything she needs. Meanwhile, all LDS church services have been cancelled so we have our very first home sacrament meeting. We enjoy sitting with the bishop.
Annika shares a lovely talk with a little help from Brooklyn.
In the afternoon, we head over to the Hugh Spackman household for some delicious tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches. Plans had been already made, we were fewer than a group of 100, and we were still figuring out this whole social distancing thing. Their daily homeschooling schedule on the wall was a fantastic inspiration that we miserably failed to adopt.
Monday, March 16th: Teachers and staff are allowed back into West, mostly to gather our things and wrap up loose ends as we prepare to move online. It was so very sad to see them take down all the Alice in Wonderland decorations from Spirit week, knowing that Spirit Bowl never happened. I'm including a ton of these pictures because I feel like all the hard work that went into creating this whimsical world deserves to be recognized and remembered. Whether Alice fell down the rabbit hole or through the looking glass, the madness became far more tangible than anyone anticipated.
Tuesday, March 17: Happy St. Patrick's Day! All Utah restaurants are closed for dine-in. Gatherings can be no larger than 10.
Wednesday, March 18th: Earthquake at 7:09 am, 5.7 magnitude in Magna, Utah. Jason and I were getting ready to leave for Grandpa Hansen's funeral in Idaho when the house began to shift beneath us. I decide to stay home since the kids are understandably frightened and don't wish to be left alone. There were several large aftershocks that day and in the weeks following. I realize how miserably little I know about earthquake preparedness. Fortunately, our brick house seems to avoid major damage. We do have one mason jar shift and shatter when we open the cabinet.
Meanwhile, Grandpa Hansen's funeral services take place in Rupert. Due to the pandemic, the services are limited to immediate family--children and grandchildren.
Oh, how I wish I could have given Grandma the biggest hug!
These sisters did such a beautiful job of sharing grandpa's story. He would have been so proud of his daughters.
A legacy greater than any sum of money.
We've decided that Jason's grandfathers have a flair for theatrics. Grandpa Wheeler was buried in the midst of a raging blizzard. Not to be outdone, Grandpa Hansen arranged for a pandemic and an earthquake.
From left to right: Julie, Susie, Arnie, Norma, David, Connie, and Ron.
Lance came from Chicago for the funeral, then headed directly to Phoenix for a month to social distance with Christy and Ben.
Grandpa Charles smiles at a memory.
Funeral potatoes. Remember those? Many thanks to the Relief Society for this final service before the building was closed.
Chairs six feet apart--maybe. I'll be honest. I'm so accustomed to masks and social distancing that this picture induces some anxiety. I have to remind myself that we were in the earliest stages of the pandemic in Utah/Idaho and not as restricted. In so many ways, I'm grateful. Funerals are difficult junctures and I'm grateful the family could gather together to mourn, remember, and celebrate Grandpa Hansen.
We miss him.
Surely Grandma feels his absence the most. Even so, it's kind of a tender mercy that Grandpa passed before all visitation to nursing facilities was shut down. After five years of visiting Grandpa every day, it would be so hard for Grandma to leave him there all on his own.
I imagine there's great comfort in knowing that someday they not only will lie side by side here on earth, but most importantly be reunited in heaven.
Thursday, March 19th: The number of COVID cases in the US spikes to 10,000. We delve into crafts and homeschool.
When it comes to Hamilton, Brooklyn's still delightfully obsessed. She made all these miniature objects to celebrate important facets of his life.
We also take advantage of the empty streets and parking lots as a good opportunity to teach Brooklyn to drive. Look out world!
Friday, March 20: Mom is already tired of cooking breakfast, lunch, and dinner. We discover the joy of drive-by school lunch distribution.
We also get some Vitamin D and exercise by walking through Memory Grove.
The grocery store shelves are stripped bare of essentials like flour, sugar, yeast, milk, eggs, ramen, toilet paper, and most alarmingly, cheese.
Fortunately, cheese is in plentiful supply if you're willing to pay for the good stuff. Looking back, I'm pretty certain that the kids haven't been inside a grocery store since this day.
Saturday, March 21st: We cease to be concerned about how our children dress. We consider it a victory if we put on pants with a button.
Puzzle time.
We grind up a LOT of pork to make meat pies. As Uncle Jay knows, "pork shoulder butt is delicious."
With a dozen meat pies in the freezer, we consider ourselves officially prepped for quarantine. Everyone has their priorities.
Such a beautiful little pie!
Now please don't ask about the one I dropped in the bottom of the oven at midnight.
An evening hike up nearby Ensign Peak. For me, getting into nature each day is critical for maintaining sanity.
Monday, March 23rd: We take a hiatus from online school for Spring Break. Meanwhile, school closures are extended to May 1st. Talia crochets her first Covie.
Wednesday, March 25th: Jason's 40th Birthday. Utah has had only one COVID-related death, but the United States has confirmed 50,000 cases. Since we can't throw a big party to celebrate, we choose to socially isolate from a tent in Southern Utah.
And there you have it--Twenty Totally Topsy Turvy Days.
Just as a record, as of today Monday, May 4th, Utah has had 5317 Covid cases, 441 hospitalizations, and 50 deaths. 124,661 people have been tested. Compared with some hotspots in the United States, we're doing okay. The United States is leading the world with 1,152,372 total cases and 67,456 deaths. So Mr. Trump is this what you meant by America first? (Sorry, I totally shouldn't get political here, but really.) In Utah we've moved from a high risk phase to a moderate risk phase where they are easing up on regulations. Group sizes have been expanded to 20. Businesses and restaurants are gradually reopening. While in some ways it feels liberating to have restrictions lifted, it also feels scary. I think the likelihood of a second wave is significant.
I guess only the future will show whether life will stabilize. In the meantime, I feel like by flipping the world upside down, some important things in our lives have been turned right side up. I'm cherishing the pollution-free skies, slower pace, and time with family. I sincerely hope that we use this critical juncture to re-evaluate and make our personal lives, communities, and world better. One thing is certain--life will never be quite the same.
2 comments:
This is a useful chronology Milkweed. Cathy and I enjoyed our fast, safe drives to and from SLC. Less traffic on I-80 than usual and at least half were big trucks. We are getting used to masks and gloves. However, I hate feeling trapped at home. I understand the need for these restrictions on my freedoms, but dislike them intensely. It presents a chance to remain cheerful in the midst of adversity. I get comfort from reading, praying, service, thinking deeply, working in the yard and driving. Sometimes I cry, inside and out. This pandemic is slow-motion torture in some ways, but as you note, there are positive upsides too.
Sweet, and melancholy, all at once. Thank you for sharing these thoughts, love. And we have another month and a half under our belts since then!
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