The pandemic was a time of separation for all of us. The two weeks of isolation to lessen the curve turned into months of remaining at home, at least six feet away from friends and loved ones. As an intensely social creature, this was a time of anxiety and loneliness, despite being quarantined with my husband and three children. The person I missed seeing most was my best friend, Allison. We spoke on the phone daily, and attempted FaceTime (though it felt awkward to both of us). Prior to Covid, we saw each other at least once a day, working closely together to serve our church and meeting at the playground after school with our children. In April of 2020, we planned a coffee date with our daughters as a way to see each other and get out of the house. We went through the drive-thru line of a coffeeshop, and drove to adjacent parking lot. We parked opposite of each other, climbed into the backs of our SUVs, and had the first "coffee date" in over a month. Seeing my best friend's face, in person, brought me to tears - as did the distance between us. I needed a hug, desperately. As I drove away that day, I wondered when I would ever get to hug someone outside of my immediate household, when I would shake hands with someone, when I could high five my daughters' friends. In June of 2020, our church cautiously reopened for in-person services. Masks were enforced, and the six-foot rule was heavily encouraged. However, when I was finally in the same room with my best friend, I couldn't maintain the six foot rule. With my mask on and my hands carefully sanitized, I gave her a hug. It was one of the best hugs of my life.

Listening to Marketplace on the radio each morning as I arrived at work in mid-January of 2020, I never suspected that what was forcing cancelations of Lunar New Year celebrations in China would leave me with raw hands and ringing ears. At that time, I was working at the Census Bureau for the lead person responsible for on-the-ground execution of the 2020 census in Idaho. The work involved data analysis and strategic planning, as we created and staffed a field operation to complement the Census Bureau’s attempt to transition from the traditional door-to-door canvassing to online self-reporting. In the early days of the pandemic, we tried to maintain business as usual as we, and most of the country, watched cases rise. When things got bad enough, a mandate from Washington shut down our office for nearly six weeks. When our team was called back, we entered a totally new world. The Census Bureau leadership had mandated a hyper safe work environment and work rules. The office furniture was completely rearranged to create social distance. A six-foot perimeter around every desk was marked on the floor to ensure work interactions took place at a distance. Similarly, walking paths were marked on the floor and one-way traffic was encouraged. Everyone was issued a box of masks and hand sanitizers and soap dispensers were everywhere. The visual was pretty laughable but it is my hands and ears that carry the strongest memories of attempting to work in this environment. Trying to comply with the guidelines meant more hand washing and sanitizing than one would likely see around an operating room. The government, while trying to be a really good parent, however, had failed to supply hand lotion. Shame on me! I didn’t bring my own and raw, chapped hands became my red badge of courage, and compliance. Additionally, I will never forget the volume in that concrete block room. A room full of people on the phone can be noisy; but social distanced work conversations meant masked people shouting to co-workers as they stood six feet from their desk. It was the definition of cacophony. The work I was doing required a lot of attention to detail and I remember it being so loud at times I could not think clearly. There were time I would go outside to listen to quiet of the traffic on the busy street in front of the office.

This biography was created out of a self-directed project from the HST580 class. This biography will be linked to the submissions of the person mentioned in the document and title.

I taught both middle and high school during the pandemic, which required virtual learning. I lived with a roommate and both of us couldn’t teach at the same time in the same room, so I taught exclusively from the floor of my walk-in closet. I sat on the floor of that 5’x3’ closet every work day for 9 months. The carpet was scratchy and my legs would often fall asleep from sitting in one place too long. I often woke up just before class started at 7:30AM and was groggy. Many of us ate breakfast during first period. The thing that bothered me most however was the silence. The only sound of class was me, talking. My lecture, my out loud readings for accommodated students, and my replies to students typing in the chat were the only things I heard for 5-6 hours of the day. There were none of the usually noises I associate with my job: idle chatter from every corner of the room, tapping of pencils, the pencil sharpener, a student blowing their nose, clicking of pens, hoody zippers, crinkling paper, students moving around in their chairs, chip bags opening, metal water bottles falling on the floor and a student yelling “foul” afterwards, occasional shouting, crying, and groaning. Students very rarely, if ever, turned on their cameras or mics to talk to me. I surely was isolated more than the average remote worker; yes, I talked all day, but it felt like it was talking to no one. I don’t have much tangible evidence to show from the pandemic. Frankly, I didn’t do anything noteworthy of documenting. The three pictures attached are from the beginning of the pandemic, around December 2020. Google Meets hadn’t quite caught up to some of their pitfalls technologically and teachers had to “kick out” each student manually, and when 7-10 of your students are AWOL, it can get tedious. I started to make up dumb games and sing songs to entertain myself, please enjoy my new line to the Oompa Loompa song. You can see that all the students are just icons—no faces, no voices. For reference, I have attached two videos of the end of the school year from before the pandemic. You can hear how loud the classroom is with all the students talking to each other, or playing games and dancing to music. After seeing these small clips, you can understand just how soul-destroying it was to teach to a bunch of digital circles who made no noise.

This biography was created out of a self-directed project from the HST580 class. This biography will be linked to the submissions of the person mentioned in the document and title.

Different taxis and companies usually have different protocols posted. More often than not, there is a plastic or fabric divider between the front and back seats. This sign explains the expectations for passengers traveling via taxi in Arequipa, Peru.

All guests have to have 3 vaccines and an N-95 or double facemask to enter the mall. The flow of in and out of the mall are still controlled.

When the pandemic hit, there wasn't a lot going on in my house. I was living at home, working where I could/when I could (nannying, dog walking) and my parents had recently retired. My parents quickly turned into stereotypical teenagers, spending all day on their phones and iPad, scrolling through Facebook and playing card games electronically. My mom got sucked into a few dog groups on Facebook as she had always wanted a dog in retirement and to train this dog to be a therapy animal. It was her dream to take this dog to schools, hospitals, and nursing homes and provide much needed stress relief and other benefits that therapy animals provided. When I was a kid, we had a smooth collie name Stormy and he was a great family pet. When he passed away when I was in high school, my parents agreed to not get another dog until retirement (mostly my dad's request, my mom could have dogs all her life if it were up to her). Then COVID and there was nothing for my mom to do besides look at dogs on Facebook, specifically smooth collies. After much discussion and pleading by my mom and probably sheer boredom by my dad, my parents decided to get a puppy from Kentucky in July. We named this little one Iko and he came home rambunctious as ever. This brought a host of new senses into the house. First was the sound. Iko was never a big barker, but he did bark as most dogs do. I never saw this as a bad thing. Prior to Iko, there was no lively activity or accompanying noise. Also came the smells of a new dog. Miraculously, Iko came potty trained at 8 weeks (over achieving puppy from the start) but Iko had lots of hair and stirred up a lot of dust, thus making the house smell more like a dog kennel than our house before that was pretty clean (because there wasn't anything else to do during COVID besides clean). The final, and my favorite, sense that Iko brought into the house was the unconditional affection. With a new dog in the house, there were constant pets and puppy kisses which added a huge sensory stress relief to what was going on outside in the world around us. Iko Brough so many senses and such life into our home. He brought the youth out in my retired parents who go on long hikes with him out in the mountains of Utah now. Iko, the smooth coated collie, saved our COVID.

This is a local neighborhood market where you can buy fruit, meat, juices, food, toys, keys, and other items. With the pandemic, this water tank and handwashing station was installed to encourage better hand hygiene.

In 2020 it was over 100 degrees Fahrenheit (38 + Celsius) in August in the eastern area of San Diego, California. I was working as a delivery driver for Amazon delivering packages around greater San Diego County. Having been about six months into the pandemic, masks were required pretty much everywhere. For health and safety, we were required to wear those masks while delivering. The picture above shows me wearing one of the masks which is made of cotton and double layered. These masks have a sleeve inside to insert a filter. Elastic strips with a stopper on the end goes around the ears to hold the mask over the nose and mouth. Because this mask irritated my ears, I took a bread wrapper twist and hooked it to the back and tied it so it wouldn't sit on my ears and was instead tied around the back of my head. This jerry rigged mask led to a tighter fit on my face. This in turn led to sweat and moisture collecting in the fabric of the mask throughout the day which led to an extremely pungent stench because of the sweat, mucus from a runny nose, and stinky breath. The other issue that caused more distress was the soaked mask. Especially on this particularly hot day, I was essentially breathing through a wet rag. Breathing through my mouth was the only option because my nose wasn't strong enough to draw in enough air. Climbing up stairs and up and down drive ways made it more difficult to breath. I had to take intermittent breaks to pull down the mask to get air and breath fresh air. Needless to say, mints, gum, and breath freshener was regularly on hand after this day. Along with lots and lots of water.

The pandemic changed so many things about everyday life, and even our food wasn't spared. Not only did the effects of COVID-19 attack our sense of taste, but it even affected those who hadn't contracted it. Going out to restaurants was completely out of the question, and to avoid spending too much money on take-out, my family continued to brave the grocery stores. There was a silver lining, though, because it started to change the way we felt about meals. I spent more time cooking with them back home in Vienna, VA, and now that I live here in Tempe I find a lot of those habits have stuck with me. I'm especially glad that I started baking more before I left home. Baking was a way to get the whole family together and give each of us something to look forward to that day, in a time when days kind of blended together and none of us knew what to expect. What's more, we'd all heard stories about how early COVID symptoms included loss of smell and taste, so I think there was a small part of me that was reassured by actually being able to taste what we'd all worked on together. I included a brownie recipe that I use a lot with this post, so you can try it if you like and get a taste for how it still offers me some comfort.

Like many other people who suddenly found themselves at home for an extended period due to the COVID-19 quarantines I picked up many new hobbies which have now become a part of my normal life. In March of 2020 I suddenly found myself unable to go into nail salons that had been closed as nonessential businesses. I found online advertisements for at-home dip powder nail kits and ordered to materials to turn my living room into a makeshift nail salon to do my own nails. The smell of a nail salon is distinctive, and I found that smell filling my living room every time I did my nails. Also in March 2020, my office shut down and the entire staff was sent to work from home. At the same time my kids’ school was also closed and they were sent home for virtual classes. My quiet private office at work was traded for my noisy house with dogs barking, teachers teaching over Zoom, and kids in group videos talking with their friends. With all our usual reasons to leave the house gone I found little escape from the chaos that was now a typical day at work in my house. Looking for a reason to get out of the house I took up running. A few days a week I would head outside for a quiet neighborhood run trading in the sounds of Zoom calls with teachers and kids for the occasional neighborhood bird. Over two years later and life has returned to a version of what we used to call normal. Nail salons are open, I am back to working in my office, and my kids are back to learning in their classrooms. However, some of these hobbies I picked up out of necessity have found their way into my life permanently. I still do my own nails at the house, turning my living room into a nail salon every other weekend. I still go for neighborhood runs a few times a week either before or after a day at the office. While these have become fixtures in my life now, the smell of a nail salon in my living room still reminds me of the earliest quarantine days and when I head out for a quiet neighborhood run, I still recall the peaceful feeling that brought me when life at home was becoming too stressful in 2020.

When the COVID-19 virus struck in the spring of 2020, I was still completing my undergraduate degree in history at a small university near the border of North and South Carolina. My university transitioned to online learning around the second week of March. One of my classes that semester was an upper level special topics course on Public History. Seizing the opportunity to document the COVID-19 pandemic for future generations, my course instructor had students to document and journal about our everyday lives in quarantine during the second half of the course as we transitioned online. The above is a video I took for that course of some my friends from back home, where I had returned to live in isolation with my mother, father, brothers, and grandfather; while at home, I would drive about once a week to an empty target parking lot to socialize with some of my friends from the community. We would sit in our cars, spaced at least fifteen feet apart, in order to avoid spreading the virus. Though I was thankful for the opportunity to still see my friends, and to have at least one social outing each week, the sense, or rather lack of sense, that was most prevalent in my mind, and still is when recalling the COVID-19 pandemic lockdowns in the spring of 2020, is not being able to touch my friends. I am a very tactile person, and giving a hug or a handshake to my friends is an important part of expressing my love and feelings for others. Though during the COVID-19 pandemic we were able to communicate by means of modern day technology, such as zoom, and even in cases such as mine due to the state where I lived, still being able to socialize in outdoor areas, the fear of the virus prevented me from being able to express friendship in one of the most natural ways. Though only ten to fifteen feet apart, it was if we had all created an invisible bubble that could not penetrated. Though this was all for good reason, it did not make the psychological implications any less real. The ten feet that separated me from my friends for over two months felt like ten million miles, and my thoughts constantly played tricks on me. I grew accustomed to not touching or being near others. It was in early May, almost two months after returning home from college, that I touched someone outside of my family unit for the first time. A friend of mine who I went to high school with, who also worked on a farm that borders my family's farm, wanted to ride ATV's together. I agreed, and we remained at least six feet distant from one another. We it came time for him to return home, however, he extended his hand to give me a "fist bump." Normally, he probably would have tried to hug me, but even the notion of touching our fists together made me hesitant, though I did return the friendly gesture. The virus had me, and most of society, programmed to remain enclosed to ourselves, and in doing so, though necessary for a time, unable to engage in the most basic of human interactions. Prior to the pandemic, I never had give thought to the importance of touching in my relationships, however, in a post-pandemic world, I will never take for granted the most basic of human interactions, such as touch, because in a moment it could be gone.

I was a college student during the initial phases of the pandemic. Classes were moved to all online, and I moved out of the dorm back home, since most of the campus was closed. My most distinct memory of the time is of walking my dog on the first Monday morning of the lockdown. The world was so still. The only soft noises that could be heard were birds chirping and squirrels chittering to each other as they ran around. I lived right next to a major road, so the sudden silence was almost oppressive. That vacuum of sound was the loudest thing I heard on the walk, and it came with the sudden awareness that the area I was walking in was completely alien to the one I had grown up in. I have visited home again since then, but have been completely unable to ever capture that eerie feeling again. It felt special, like a completely ethereal place in time that would never be recreated again.

Most people probably don’t think of belly buttons when they think of a pandemic. They likely also don’t think of the South African Activist Miriam Makeba. However, when I consider the earliest days of covid, those days before I realized I would be teaching online for an extended time, or that my Varsity Lacrosse players whom I had coached through their careers would never step on a field for our 2020 season, my life was all about belly buttons and a song called Makeba by a French Singer-Songwriter. In April of 2020, schools in Michigan closed, sending me home with every other educator to figure out online teaching. Also at this time, my daughter, Edie, was just over one year old. She was very fond of her “Beluh-but’n” (bellybutton) and ran around the house proudly showing hers off, thinking she was hilarious. To her credit, it was hilarious, and also adorable. She had recently heard the song Makeba by Jain on a BMX video featuring my husband from when he used to ride professionally, and it became her anthem. Even at three years old, she still requests Makeba in the car, though today it is second to David Bowie or Vampire Weekend these days. She would dance to it on repeat, her little feet on her ABC play mat making a sticky pitter-patter, her arms swinging wildly, and her diapered baby butt dropping low like she was in a nightclub. She was, and still is, one of the funniest little humans I have encountered. The attached sound clips are recorded from a video of Edie, my daughter, strumming my guitar on its stand, while singing her version of Makeba. These videos are some of my favorites, her head bobbing and bum wiggling with her music. These are the sounds that filled my house and my heart throughout those first weeks of quarantine, and they still bring me nothing but immense joy and thankfulness. Covid for me meant more time at home with her. I was there when she woke up, we spent much of our days outside in the warming spring weather, and I nursed her and tucked her in for naps and at bedtime. We were lucky, we did not face financial crisis or unemployment, nor did we or our loved ones fall seriously ill. The result was time at home together as a family. While the restrictions and isolations of covid did mount over time, and stress of restrictions were certainly felt during my second pregnancy for my baby boy born in May of 2021, by and large, our lives just kept moving. We adjusted, we kept a small circle of trusted friends and family, and we were cautious. But when it came down to it, covid to me will always be marked by extra time with my daughter, time that I would not have had if the pandemic did not change everything about our lives. I wouldn’t trade the extra moments of her laughter, dancing, snuggles, or silliness for the world.

This is a pair of socks I found at It's Sugar. They say "Relax! I Got the Vax" on them. This is referencing the COVID vaccines people have gotten. Now, places are selling merchandise referencing it as a way to get more money. Things like this are not uncommon and many big stores will sell vaccine related merchandise. I have no idea how well it actually sells, but there must be some market out there for companies to keep producing it.

I have been to this Starbucks a few times over the years. This is a Starbucks inside Target. When I went there years ago, there used to be seating available for people to enjoy their beverages at leisure. Due to COVID, those seats are gone. I hope they get brought back eventually, because while I don't order from Starbucks that often, it was a nice place to sit while waiting for other people to get done shopping.

While at Target, I noticed a sneeze guard at the Starbucks inside it. I can't remember if the staff were wearing masks, but that is one COVID-era precaution I saw that is still in use. My sister was ordering something from there, so I took a picture while I was waiting for her to be done.

This is a sneeze guard at Hot Topic. The staff themselves were not wearing masks, but the sneeze guards were still up. Since both cash registers were being used, I took a picture from the back for privacy reasons.

Due to COVID-19, Gen, a Korean barbecue place, has had a staff shortage. Today I went there for lunch and noticed that there was fewer people working many tables than in times I have gone in the past. This speaks to the bigger labor issues that have come about since COVID. Some of it may be realizing that jobs like this aren't offering nearly enough to work there. Another possibility is that staff shortages might be happening from vaccine mandates, which depending on how many vaccines some place require, would be less appealing. The sign says that it is only due to COVID-19, but there are many components to that, so narrowing down the reason there are staff shortages could be difficult unless I asked the manager.

This is a sign on the front door of It's Sugar. It's Sugar is a chain candy store. Here, it is saying that those who have not been vaccinated should continue to wear a mask while inside the store. I went in there today, and no employee asked about my vaccination status, and the employees weren't masked. Arizona as a whole has been pretty light on COVID restrictions, but I imagine that other locations of this store might react differently.

This is where you can get cart wipes at Target while shopping. In addition to the thing itself, it gives you information on where to get a COVID vaccine. Wiping down surfaces has become a bigger thing since COVID, as it would help reduce the spread. COVID itself can't survive on surfaces for very long, but it can be there for a short amount of time. Using things like cart wipes is a way to prevent COVID and other diseases.

This is a sneeze guard seen at Target. This is a COVID-era restriction meant to prevent the spread of COVID. Even though most restrictions are gone, these are still up.

This is a picture of a COVID-era restriction put in place at some stores. The store this was seen in was Barnes & Noble. Not pictured, but employees were also wearing masks in addition to the sneeze guards.

This story shows how pandemic radically changed workplace experience, including sensory memories, for my occupation as a library worker in Washington County Utah in April 2020.

We lived in a very town in western Illinois as the pandemic arrived in America. Covid-19 seemed abstract until circumstances caused us to travel to a major international airport. The eerie quiet, in place of what should have been a noisy, madcap atmosphere, elevated sounds I normally would not have heard. It was as if a scene from a science fiction film had jumped off the screen and into my life. The experience had a nightmarish quality that has stayed with me two years later.

Covid-19 for me was difficult as a high school senior at the time and graduation coming. My class kind of lost the fun trips and experiences with teachers and classmates that graduates look forward to. We did not see our classmates till the day of graduation. I felt that Covid-19 allowed me the opportunity to better myself as I lost 18 pounds and wished I took more advantage of that time at home to learn new skills and offered me an opportunity to think and plan the future. At the end of the day. It taught me many lessons and ways to prepare for disasters.

Covid-19 had more of a positive effect than negative on my life in the spring/summer of 2020. I am a teacher in the small community of Anson, Texas, population 1,884; we are social distanced by default. Following the spring break of that school year, Anson ISD shut down and went wholly online. It was already a time of great transition for me, I was leaving the world of coaching in favor of becoming a regular classroom teacher and I had just been given five months to reflect on my new role. That time was spent with family and friends in an almost semi-retirement doing the things I never had time for because of my demanding schedule. As a teacher and coach, 60-hour work weeks were a norm, and during football seasons you could expect those hours to creep to the upper 90’s. There were also no “real” summers like other teachers. A coach’s summer is spent in morning workouts and summer camps with the occasional week off to visit family and decompress. That is why the “covid summer,” as I remember it, had such a profound impact on my life. Those five months were spent with family and friends playing dungeons and dragons, golfing, and remodeling a good friend’s house. My younger brother is an avid dungeons and dragons player, a hobby that I never found myself with enough time to delve into. The collaborative story-based tabletop role playing game known as dnd requires several people, a few hours, and a lot of reading to play. My covid summer left me with ample free time to do just that. The sound of dice on hard tabletops rang throughout our houses as we held a regular weekly gaming session for five months. One unique thing about dungeons and dragons is the diversity of dice required to play the game, from four sided up to twenty sided and almost every even number in between, were required to effectively play the game. Most sets came with every dice, but the variety of color, size, and material quickly made collection a side hobby. Before long, I had a large bag full of dice and special black and gold metal set saved for only the most special of encounters. That is what I remember most, the cool touch of those dice as I contemplated the best course of action for my character to take against the hordes of enemies by brother could conjure up. While the hottest days were spent in the air conditioning playing games, the pleasant ones were spent golfing. At the time, state health officials had mentioned golf as an almost perfect sport to play during covid because it was easy to social distance and the vitamin D from the sun helped to boost the immune system. I played a lot of golf with much of the same friends I played dnd with. Many of the golf courses we played at threw their doors open and welcomed golfers with open arms to try and keep the business afloat through the troubling times; we never once were denied a t-time. We played golf at least twice a week for five months and I don’t think my hands have recovered yet. The feel of those club handles wore out two gloves and countless blisters across both hand and I wouldn’t change it for the world. While my other two hobbies offered little in the form of vocational skills, my third allowed me to learn the most. My good friend purchased his first home in May of 2020. A quaint 3 bed 2 bath home on a third of an acre just outside of Abilene, a larger town about 20 minutes south of Anson. The home was a product of the 60’s and while it had been well maintained by its previous owners, it needed quite a bit of updating. My friend had some experience in construction from a previous job, but we were all learning on the fly as we decided to remodel his home. Roughly a dozen power tools across four friends, we tore out walls, updated electrical, redid flooring, framed, drywalled, painted, and wired his 1500 square foot house for the better part of three months. There were a lot of late nights, beverages had, and good laughs shared. We all had some know how, but YouTube and google became our best friends. I had always heard the saying that rough hands meant hard work, but the feeling of my hands covered in drywall dust gave a much more visceral connection to it. I think all these feelings for me were so profound during this time because the pandemic had placed a warning label on touch. My mom is a thirty-year veteran nurse, directed an ER during swine flu and bird flu, and still received Christmas cards from high-ranking officials of the CDC; I was well informed on the virus. In the early days, we didn’t know how long it lasted on surfaces, the severity of the virus, or its communicability. Touch was one thing that had to be eliminated. A six-foot bubble was placed on the world and people feared handshakes, hugs, and human embraces foundational to the species. One knows the dangers of the everyday world, but rarely to we expect a loving hug to potentially carry death to a dear loved one. This notion changed how we, as a species, saw each other. Some embraced the struggle to soldier on with courage and others gave into fear as new information came out hourly. Two years later, after mask mandates have been lifted across most of the country, people are still trying to heal. Fist bumps taken over handshakes, hands free pay at most supermarkets, automatic doors becoming a priority are all examples of how Covid-19 changed our perception of touch as a human race. With all the activity I had during my covid summer, I did eventually contract the novel virus on my birthday in June. My only symptom was a loss of smell, one of the weirdest sensations I’ve ever had. I count myself extremely lucky that that was the only symptom I had. Aside from my ten days of self-quarantine, my life was affected in very much a positive way. I cherish the memories of my covid summer and count myself incredibly lucky to have experienced the pandemic the way I did.

Looking back at 2020, and thinking about what event(s) really tapped into my senses, I needed to look back at all the pictures and videos I took throughout that year. After doing so, I noticed a common theme: water. Seeing, hearing, and touching water was a common theme for my whole family. My little ones learned that year, that it's fun to splash in puddles after a big rain storm. They learned that our wonderful state (Michigan) has some pretty awesome beaches. We also started making a point to visit local nature preserves. One we found had a giant river running through it. We found a spot to safely dip our toes and let the water wash over them, while sitting quietly and listening to the calming sounds of the river flow. The video I've attached to this is of the rain chain that runs down the side of my house. I love sitting outside when it's warm and just listening to the water trickle down. I will sit quietly, with my eyes closed, and just enjoy the calming sounds of the rain flowing down the chain. I couldn't immediately remember when I started sitting on my porch and doing this, and then it dawned on me that it started the spring of 2020 (first spring of the pandemic). When life was forcibly slowed down on us, I found myself really enjoying the sounds that nature provides, specifically, water. In a time of such stress and uncertainty, the sounds of flowing water were (and still are) so therapeutic.

Easter 2020 was very different, but as it turned it out different in a good way

This is a news story from The New York Times by Catherine Pearson. Due to the nationwide baby formula shortage, new methods of obtaining milk have come about. One of those ways is sharing extra breast milk. There is some risk involved in getting donor breast milk. Informal sharing means that it won't get checked for things like HIV or hepatitis B. There are some health benefits to using donor milk though. One of them is immunity to COVID. For example, mothers who have been infected with COVID or have received the vaccine can pass down those antibodies to babies through their milk.

This is a news story from Metro Weekly by Joseph Reberkenny. For the first time since COVID started, DC Black Pride will be back in-person. It is organized by the Center for Black Equity and it includes over 25 events highlighting the Black LGBTQ community in Washington. During the height of the COVID outbreak, the Center for Black Equity held events online instead. The organizers say that in-person events are special for this community and has planned safety precautions for people attending. There will be things like masks available at the event in addition to rapid test kits.

This is a news story from NBC News by Tara C. Smith. This is comparing COVID to the recent monkeypox outbreak. Unlike the COVID, Smith says that monkeypox has had more understanding due to it being related to smallpox. Monkeypox is milder than smallpox and is more difficult to spread compared to something like COVID. However, monkeypox and COVID do have some things in common. One of them is that both are respiratory viruses, meaning that they can be spread through cough, sneeze, and sometimes breathing. One very good thing about monkeypox is that there are already vaccines available that can work against it. The smallpox vaccine is similar enough to monkeypox that it can help prevent both.

This is a news story from Vice by Joseph Cox. The CDC bought access to location data harvested from millions of phones in the United States. Although it was originally purchased for lockdown related reasons, it is intended to be used for non-COVID purposes too. The way they did this was through purchasing data from SafeGraph. The author of this piece mentions how the decision to do this was not without controversy, as it brings into question the freedom of movement and the rights to privacy. Google has banned SafeGraph from its app store in June.

This is a news story from Fox 10 News by Bob Christie. Governor Doug Ducey has recently signed legislation that would prevent state health officials from adding COVID-19 vaccines to list of required school vaccines. This legislation was done by the GOP to prevent government overreach.

This biography was created out of a self-directed project from the HST580 class. This biography will be linked to the submissions of the person mentioned in the document and title.

Having such a difficult school year before the pandemic hit, I initially couldn’t be more excited for this break from those all nighters. After getting the opportunity to recharge for a few weeks, finishing the school year was relatively easy. Summer flew by, and I soon realized that my entire junior year would be online as well. I quickly found the homogeneity to be unavoidable; I could sleep and attend school without moving more than a few feet. Each day was the same, a mechanical routine of jumping from Zoom meeting to Zoom meeting. Countless students would log into these meetings for roll call, and simply tilt the camera at the ceiling fan as they went out with friends or took a nap. It was easy to think this situation was just an obstacle to get past, another building block for the vision I had put in place for the years after high school. For me, this vision was about college, building knowledge towards my future career, and compiling a worthy resume. However, there was no reason I couldn't give value to this time period, to give meaning to each day such that they didn’t all blend together. From the daily differences in curriculum to the unique interactions of each period, I found these minute contrasts to be more significant. Realizing the importance of being mindful, even when little to no dynamic quality existed, allowed me to continue furthering my studies and interests. Looking back now, during a time when I have gotten accepted to one of the best schools I could’ve ever asked for, I think about how difficult that year and a half was for me, and how much harder the situation was for many other individuals. Again, the biggest lesson I learned was the importance of mindfulness. Whether it be a triumph or a tragedy, these life events should not be skimmed over like a mountain or trough to pass through. They are all lessons in some form, pieces of knowledge that should be taken with thought.

Having such a difficult school year before the pandemic hit, I initially couldn’t be more excited for this break from those all nighters. After getting the opportunity to recharge for a few weeks, finishing the school year was relatively easy. Summer flew by, and I soon realized that my entire junior year would be online as well. I quickly found the homogeneity to be unavoidable; I could sleep and attend school without moving more than a few feet. Each day was the same, a mechanical routine of jumping from Zoom meeting to Zoom meeting. Countless students would log into these meetings for roll call, and simply tilt the camera at the ceiling fan as they went out with friends or took a nap. It was easy to think this situation was just an obstacle to get past, another building block for the vision I had put in place for the years after high school. For me, this vision was about college, building knowledge towards my future career, and compiling a worthy resume. However, there was no reason I couldn't give value to this time period, to give meaning to each day such that they didn’t all blend together. From the daily differences in curriculum to the unique interactions of each period, I found these minute contrasts to be more significant. Realizing the importance of being mindful, even when little to no dynamic quality existed, allowed me to continue furthering my studies and interests. Looking back now, during a time when I have gotten accepted to one of the best schools I could’ve ever asked for, I think about how difficult that year and a half was for me, and how much harder the situation was for many other individuals. Again, the biggest lesson I learned was the importance of mindfulness. Whether it be a triumph or a tragedy, these life events should not be skimmed over like a mountain or trough to pass through. They are all lessons in some form, pieces of knowledge that should be taken with thought.

My name is Kasper, I live in the U.S. and I was 24 at the time the novel corona virus first started to cause shutdowns nation wide and world wide. I did not have the luxury of staying sheltered in place as I worked for a company that was deemed necessary to operate no matter what. My co-workers and I were basically told that our company will close when the federal government completely shuts down. That never happened. All throughout the pandemic I did not notice many changes to my life other than lack of major social events. I still hung out with friends and didn't really take the whole shut down seriously. I never had anything major happen to anyone I knew until the second year. That being said I never felt that hiding was going to solve the whole pandemic issue as many people believed it would. I spent a lot of time riding motorcycles with my wife and friends living my life to the best of my ability. One thing that did change was the whole mask dilemma. I wasn't someone against masks but I do wish the whole situation would have been handled differently. I feel that the picture above can illustrate that I did not nor will I ever let anything stop me from living and enjoying my life

This biography was created out of a self-directed project from the HST580 class. This biography will be linked to the submissions of the person mentioned in the document and title.

This biography was created out of a self-directed project from the HST580 class. This biography will be linked to the submissions of the person mentioned in the document and title.

This biography was created out of a self-directed project from the HST580 class. This biography will be linked to the submissions of the person mentioned in the document and title.

This meme is related to what I observed at the early stage of the pandemic-- everyone rushed into grocery stores, hoarding toilet paper. This phenomenon really shows how human action is likely to be controlled by the fear and uncertainty about the future and can question about the true human nature.

C19OH

This is a review of the movie "Songbird". I watched it when it came out, closer to the start of the Covid pandemic and my partner reminded me of it recently. This review does a much better job at summarizing the issues of the film. It was so bad, not even from a movie and writing standpoint, but it just felt incredibly way to soon to create and release something that feels almost mocking of the pandemic. Big thumbs down.

I am from South Africa. I wrote this analysis of a news article about Covid-19 regulations on the taxi industry in South Africa because during the pandemic I have heard many middle class people complain that working class people are irresponsible for traveling in crowded taxi's to work. My analysis pushes against this narrative, and illustrates how restricting the taxi industry is unjust, oppressive and unhelpful. Moreover, I suggest some alternative ways government can be helping.

In class, we analyzed the meme related to COVID-19 and hope this will contribute to something.

At the beginning of 2021, I spent one of the most memorable fun time in my life with my friends at the Coming of Age ceremony. Two days later, I had one more memorable days in my life, but in a negative mode: I got Covid-19, and it transferred to all my family members. During that time, I felt fear of being perceived as Covid-19-infected by others since a lot of prejudice led by Covid-19 was happening in the world and even in my neighborhood. In this essay, I would like to use my experience to analyze the human selfish and altruistic reactions to the Covid-19 pandemic. When I got infected with Covid-19, I had a high fever of 103 degrees, had difficulty breathing, and could not eat properly for several days. My father was hospitalized for about a week because he kept coughing and had difficulty breathing. The whole family was infected with Covid-19and had to be treated at home and quarantined at home, so we could not go out to buy daily necessities and food. The food that was in the refrigerator was running out with each passing day. At that time, I was afraid to confess to anyone outside my family that I had Covid-19 even though I was cured. The reason for this was that I saw on the news that there was a hate movement against Japanese and Asians living in European countries and the United States around the spring of 2020 when the Covid-19 pandemic began. Later on, as the Covid-19 damage grew, President Trump called the coronavirus the “Chinese virus,” and there were many Asians, including Chinese, who were labeled and discriminated against in the daily news. Even around my home, there were people who looked harshly at people labeled as "corona-infected," "pathogens," or "dangerous people," even if they had been infected with Covid-19 and had already recovered completely. I was afraid that if my neighbors and friends found out that I had Covid-19 and labeled me dishonorably. I thought that the distrust and inter-personal level of hatred that people possess for people who have actually been infected with Covid-19 comes from the “state of nature” that Thomas Hobbes advocated in his writing. Hobbes explains that the state of nature is when humans “seek peace and follow it… by all means [humans] can to defend [themselves]”. The state of war, in which men fight what men perceive as a target (in this case, the threat of the Covid-19) in order to protect themselves, seems to have given rise to this discrimination. And that discriminatory view grew socially and led to the Asian Hate of the time. In addition to the fear held by individuals, I guess the manipulation of social impressions at the time also led to Asian hate. The world was under a medical crunch in all countries following the explosive spread of the Covid-19, and there was a shortage of hospital beds and respiratory equipment. This could be attributed to policies and measures in the medical field that could not respond well to the sudden pandemic or the failure to provide the public with the correct information. However, medical policies and government thinking of the time shifted the blame. They tried to deflect public anger and attention with a different vector, trying to place the responsibility for the entire pandemic on the "Chinese virus" and the Asians. Public opinion, not medical evidence, established the cause of the pandemic, which was similar to what happened in San Francisco, California, hundreds of years ago during a plague epidemic, according to Joan B. Trauner's article. Chinatown in San Francisco was created to isolate immigrants from China during the plague epidemic, and the health office regarded them as the cause of the disaster. The government and the health officer did not want to be responsible for the existence of a plague epidemic. Trauner, in his writing the Chinese as Medical Scapegoats in San Francisco, describes the perspective of the medical officer in San Francisco at the time: "the pronouncements of the board and the health officer were often characterized by political or social expedience, rather than by scientific insight”. The government and the health department utilized the presence of Chinese immigrants for social expediency. The fear, the anger born of fear, and the desire to protect oneself have not changed from the time Hobbes wrote The Leviathan, through Trauner, to the present day in the 21st century. Especially in extraordinary situations like a pandemic, it will lead to new discrimination and more people being treated unfairly. But I have found one hope during this pandemic. During the time my family was homebound, when we had nowhere to go shopping and were finally running out of food, friends of my parents cooked and brought us meals for a few days, bought fruits and household items and delivered them to us. There were even heartful letters written by them. They did not avoid us as "dangerous people" but treated us with compassion. When humanity makes a positive turnaround from looking for the cause of this situation and shifting blame, to working together to overcome the situation that is happening now, we could overcome our fears, become altruistic, and strive to protect humanity as a whole.

During the COVID-19 pandemic, healthcare workers and patients in Japan suffered from the stigma. According to the article, “In Japan, coronavirus discrimination proves almost as hard to eradicate as the disease,” healthcare workers and their families are discriminated against as if they are “germs” that people need to avoid contact with. The patients of the virus are also stigmatized, and such a phenomenon of blaming victims has been seen many times throughout Japanese history. As this article represents, health care workers in Japan were stigmatized and discriminate against because of the potential risks of COVID-19 infections. According to Goffman, the greek definition of stigma “[refers] to bodily signs designed to expose something unusual and bad about the moral status of the signifier” (131). Nowadays, its definition has expanded to negative images of physical and social attributes and their interpretation in a social context. The stigma of healthcare workers in Japan is peculiar to this pandemic, and this could be because the situation overturned the expectations people had about healthcare workers. Healthcare workers are supposed to help people with diseases, but because of the pandemic, they are seen as the ones with higher risks of carrying the virus as they have more interaction with those who have been infected. As a result, people become afraid of interacting with healthcare workers, which made this job stigmatized. The article shows that Japanese people reject to interact with healthcare workers and their families during the pandemic. One of the common consequences of being stigmatized is that stigmatized people become separated from other people as they are treated differently. According to Goffman, “[the] responses of the normal and of the stigmatized that have been considered so far are ones which can occur over protracted periods of time and in isolation from current contacts between normals and stigmatized" (135). As Goffman illustrates, health care workers were stigmatized and separated from society at the beginning of the pandemic. Some people even believe that “the person with a stigma is not quite human” as Goffman states, which lead to an extreme reaction by people around health care workers. For instance, healthcare workers have been receiving death threats because other people see them as if they are the potential source of the disease rather than the same humans who are fighting the pandemic together. Such a reaction is similar to how children bully other children based on differences in attributes. One of the typical ways of bullying is to call someone “germs” and avoid interactions, which is the same as the situation in this article. This pandemic revealed our natural tendency of staying away from others who have negative attributes, which indicates that a pandemic is not an equalizer but a source of discrimination. Another factor that could have contributed to the situation in Japan is social pressure existing in the country. The article mentions that there is strong social pressure in Japan to follow coronavirus directives and to cooperate for stopping the spreading of the virus; if people do not comply, they are strongly criticized or blamed by other Japanese people. In addition, surveys have shown that compared to Americans or Britons, more Japanese people agree with the idea that “If someone is infected with the coronavirus, I think it is their fault” (Denyer and Kashiwagi). According to Fei, there are behavioral norms that are maintained by tradition, called “ritual norms” (97). This kind of norm is regarded as moral behavior by people of the community so that they follow the norms regardless of laws or punishments (99). Although Fei discusses Chinese rural society, such norms have been established in Japan as well because Japanese society developed as an agricultural society where people in a community need to cooperate with each other. There used to be a tradition called murahachibu, which means excluding those who break the rules from 80 percent of social activities in the village with the exception of funerals and fires. Even though this practice is rarely seen in modern society, people still have a strong pressure to behave for the sake of society in order to maintain harmony. For example, Japanese people still feel obligated to wear masks after vaccines have been promoted even though there is no rule or punishment for not wearing masks. This feeling may occur because they believe it is moral or correct to refrain from doing something that possibly spreads the virus. Healthcare workers were not the only people who suffered from stigma, but COVID-19 patients were also blamed for their behavior that possibly contributed to their infection. In the article, a Japanese psychology professor mentions “a low tolerance for uncertainty” in Japanese people, indicating that they blame the patients to reduce their own fears derived from the uncertainty of the pandemic. This implies that COVID-19 patients become scapegoats for the pandemic itself. In the reading, Trauner writes that “the general acceptance of the germ theory in the 1880’s did little to dispel the popular belief that epidemic outbreaks were directly attributable to conditions within Chinatown” (73). This indicates that when people are uncertain about something scary, they try to identify what or who causes that disease or threat. Although people know that coronavirus is the cause of this pandemic, most people are afraid of germs and viruses because they are invisible. The article also demonstrates some cases of blaming victims in Japanese history, including leprosy patients, survivors of the 1945 atomic bombings, and evacuees of the 2011 Fukushima disaster. Such diseases and disasters involve complicated factors, so it is difficult to blame the causes directly. Therefore, individuals tend to blame patients or carriers of the virus during the pandemic instead of blaming the virus itself because they are visible and easy to avoid. References Erving Goffman (1976) “Stigma” :Chapter 10 “Selections from Stigma” Fei Xiaotong (1947) “From the Soil: the Foundations of Chinese Society” Joan B. Trauner, (1978) “The Chinese as Medical Scapegoats in San Francisco, 1870-1905 Simon Denyer and Akiko Kashiwagi (2020) “In Japan, coronavirus discrimination proves almost as hard to eradicate as the disease”

I made two memes. The first meme is intended to answer the question, “Are pandemics the “great equalizers” in terms of social inequalities—do they level the playing field?” with the example of COVID-19. And the meme says the answer is “no,” and that the socially vulnerable are more exposed to the dangers of COVID. The second meme is intended to answer the question, “Have you observed any patterns of human behavior with the Covid-19 pandemic?” Former President Trump called COVID the “China Virus” and fueled people’s hatred of Asians. This meme tries to remind the audience of his negative remarks but in a humorous way without offending Asian populations. It also illustrates how words can magnify feelings of racism, fear, and uncertainty, which can result in scapegoating. This meme gives the audience an opportunity to learn more about the unfair treatment of Asians during the pandemic and why it happened.