Text & Image

Are there any lessons you've learned from living through this pandemic that will stay with you, or that you'd want to share with others?

There ARE lessons I’ve learned from going through this lockdown period. And there have been benefits. While “Stop the world, I want to get off,” used to be just a saying, I feel like those of us lucky enough to have survived lockdown—and avoid Coronavirus—had an opportunity to actually stop for a while, and reconsider our lives. The word Covid came into the news of the world just after I retired from running a non-profit organization that I had created. For a dozen years I had lived and breathed that organization—running it from my home office, and doing everything from fundraising to outreach to inspiring volunteers, which I called “volunticipants.” I was just about to relax into “whatever comes next,” when we discovered that “nothing” was going to be the thing that comes next. We connected through Zoom. I learned that I require people—whether through Zoom or the good old fashioned way. I thrive on connections to others—even if those people are only two inches tall. In my case—and that’s what a journal is all about— I had started to play the ukulele and found daily lessons and online jam sessions. It meant that I was meeting people from all over the world who had a common purpose: to play a song. Some of us were beginners, like me. Some were professionals. On Zoom it doesn’t really matter, because only the leader can be heard, while all the rest of us are muted. I was learning something, and joining in. I centered my day around musical moments—a totally novel way of spending time. Players from those groups are some of my best friends now, even though many of us have never met in person. If it ever becomes safe to travel again, I look forward to traveling to the cities of those other players to meet them in person. I learned that I need to feel like I’m part of the solution. At the beginning of lockdown I made 375 masks—or mask kits for others to assemble—because I could. Quilters have fabric. In the beginning, the only thing any of us knew was that masks might save us from this deadly dreaded virus. It gave me a purpose and an opportunity. I would stitch away in my home sewing room, and leave labeled bags taped to my front door for anyone who needed them. I exchanged those masks for donations to our local food pantries. Solutions. I learned to schedule things in, because before you know it, the day will be over. That’s especially true in the winter, when the sun rises late and then sets so soon. That’s true in the spring, summer, and fall, too. I learned to reach out to others. Always a relatively social person, I’ve reached out to friends because casual interactions just cannot happen when we are purposely homebound. We set up our front porch with two seating areas, so that we could still see friends, even if only outdoors. We invested in a fire pit, for the same reason. Zoom cocktails, Zoom tea, Zoom music, Zoom chats—they’re all better than just a phone call. Social connections count. Beyond old friends, I am trying to reach out to new people—especially single people who are living alone, some of whom have illnesses that make them particularly susceptible to the ravages of Covid. Drop off care packages. Find time. Make a difference in someone’s life. And, it’s that time of year, the end of December, when we think about our various financial donations to non-profit organizations. We’re upping our numbers this year because fortunately we can, and because they need it. Food related, housing related, caring-related charities get my attention, because that comes first. Anyone who’s hungry cannot focus on anything else until they have food in their belly. Everyone deserves a roof over their heads. In this world of such wealth, it is unconscionable that so many are so invisibly ignored. I’ve always known these things. Lockdown, and the Pandemic Journaling Project, as well as other journaling, has given me the opportunity to focus on these realities.