Items

• 
  2020-07-09

  The Unkempt Lockdown Beard

  Over the past year, I found myself for the first time extremely isolated from most of the outside world. As opposed to my entire life previously, where I was always around other people and tried to make my appearance presentable, I no longer had to worry about what I looked like. As a result, I stopped shaving and let my beard grow for weeks and months on end. I will never forget the strange feelings associated with the different stages of my beard. Running my fingers across my face and feeling the sharp pricks from the stubble of a short beard, or the fuzzy and puffy feelings from touching my medium-sized beard, or straitening out the matted hair of my longish beard. As I had never tried to grow a beard before, these feelings were new to me and something I will not forget. The picture I uploaded was shortly after I had shaved my cheeks and left the rest of the hair on my face and neck, which felt stubbly and sharp on the sides but more silky and smooth in other areas. This is something I would have never done if I had to be around people. The isolation I experienced during the lockdown allowed me to grow this strange beard and experience the feelings that came with it. This is representative of the experiences of so many people who all of a sudden found themselves in a new situation of solitude as a result of the Covid lockdowns. For once in a lifetime, your appearance didn't have an effect on your professional life and you could just let things like beard growth go completely uncared for. As I will probably never experience this kind of isolation again, I will probably never experience the feelings of running my fingers across and through an unkempt beard as I did during the Covid-19 pandemic.
• 2020-03-20

  The Signal of Approaching Silence

  On Friday, March 20, 2020, I was grocery shopping at Hy-Vee in Canton, Illinois when my mobile phone pinged with an alert from a local news app: the Illinois governor had officially issued a stay-at-home order to prevent the spread of Covid-19. Rumors of the impending order had been circulating for the past few days. I teach English at Canton High School, and we were scheduled to start a week of Spring Break that Friday. That morning the principal had cautioned us to take home our computers and any teaching materials that we might need, just in case we did not return to school after Break. So, the text message confirmed a stark reality. Talk of the stay-at-home order overtook the conversations of shoppers around me. People were speculating about what would come next, now that schools and businesses would be closed. I remember passing the meat counter where I overheard the department manager taking a phone call from a gentleman who wanted to place an apocalypse-sized order of beef. This is it, I thought to myself, trying to figure out what kind of groceries to buy that would sustain my family over for an indefinite period of time, because even though the stay-at-home order was for just two weeks, I had a sinking suspicion we were not going to best Covid-19 in two weeks’ time. I began pushing my cart up and down the aisles faster, a little more frantically, in response to a burgeoning awareness that the virus could already be circulating within our community. Looking back now, I see that we were somewhat cocooned in Fulton County, Illinois, a mostly rural county. The health department announced the first positive case on April 10; the first death occurred on October 21. The virus was slow to take a foothold, but eventually it did. In late July, our school district’s board unanimously voted to start the school year fully remote. Each school day, teachers reported to ghost-town school buildings and holed up in their empty classrooms, with admonitions from administrators not to co-mingle with each other. During that time, I dutifully logged onto Google Meets for each class period, where various avatars greeted me because students were not required to turn on their cameras, so none did. Sometimes I got to hear tinny student voices, which sounded a lot further away than across town, and I wondered if each voice matched the person I pictured in my mind’s eye. I had never met the majority of my students in person, and the photographs on our school’s student management system had not been updated since the fall of 2019. I remember the frustration I struggled to keep capped when I would call on students and be met with silence. Were they even sitting by the computer? Were they afraid to say something in front of their classmates, lest they look stupid? Were they just willfully ignoring me? Were they okay, physically and mentally? I pulled more words out of students through written assignments and chat boxes than through Google Meets. Although part of the student body returned to in-person school in January of 2021 while the rest remained remote by choice (we taught both groups concurrently), it was still difficult to get students to speak, even to each other. Sadly, many of our students had become so accustomed to the idea of school as a radio broadcast—one from which they could easily disengage if they so wished—that they no longer felt it necessary to contribute their voices. In Illinois, we’ve been told that all students will return to in-person learning in the fall of 2021, with few exceptions, but I fear the virus has done irrevocable damage to our students’ speech.
• 
  2020-03-13

  Last Costco run before shutdown

  It was two days after the NBA had shut down and the first day our school district had shut down. Not sure about what was to come next (and honestly pretty scared to go) I took on last trip to Costco to buy supplies for the lockdown of unknown duration that was about to begin. The scene was chaos, with the lines running the full length of the store. The most eerie part, though, was someone who decided to “play us off” in a sort of Titanic-style farewell to our old life. Having endured the line for longer than I can remember, I chose to record the moment (which I felt would be one to remember.
• 
  2021-07-02

  No kids in the hallways

  I work as a director of a Boys & Girls Club in Cleveland, Tennessee. For anyone unfamiliar with the Boys & Girls Club, we are a Department of Education-certified after-school and summer program. Our organization is comprised of fourteen Clubs across four counties and, prior to COVID-19, we served over 1,000 Club members every day. Immediately following the outbreak of COVID-19, the hallways of our Clubs were empty. In a matter of hours, an invaluable local resource became inaccessible to hundreds of families who depended on our support. This was an extremely difficult time. Fortunately, our organization has an exceptional leadership team. From the moment our doors closed in March 2020, our administration began working around the clock to adapt our program into one that was both virtual and accessible. Clubs began having daily ZOOM calls with their members, calling families to just check in, making silly YouTube videos and connecting with teen members on safe and secure social media platforms. Even further, our administration ensured that no one was laid off and employees still had plenty of work to do. With our hallways emptied, we were divided into small teams that could easily work in a socially-distanced manner and were assigned to a number of facility maintenance projects. We knew that one day our Club members would return, and when they did, we wanted their Clubs to be fresh, clean, and updated. I was assigned to the floors team. This team was charged with stripping and waxing all of the floors in each of the fourteen Clubs. For about eight weeks straight, I became overly familiar with the burning, sterile scent of Zep Heavy Duty Floor Products. Even with an industrial mask, the sharp and bitter aroma of the cleaner was pungent. Now, anytime the floors need to be done in my own building, I am taken back to those 14 weeks there were no kids in the hallways. Fortunately, we re-opened our doors to our Club members on June 1st, 2020 with strict health and safety protocols, and only at half capacity. We remained at half capacity until June 1st, 2021 when we were finally able to fully re-open our sites. Our numbers have still not returned to what they were, but we are slowly getting there. The important thing to us is that we are able to safely provide much-needed services to our community.
• 
  2021-07-02T12:30:00

  The Life of a University Campus During the Pandemic

  How quiet can a campus of normally 21,000 students get? I will let you in, you can hear a pin drop. When the pandemic began, the school shut down the school Union. On top of that, I was placed on furlough from my job from March until August last year because my job is located in that Union! When I was able to come back to campus, masks and hand sanitizer were required (still are) and the other thing that was noticed was...the silence. Normally, the Union has about 1,000-2,000 students and staff in it at a time, but due to the pandemic, it was completely dead inside. Not only that, the hours that we were open cut in half until some of our workers were let go based on the amount of time that they had spent in their position. In the midst of the pandemic, it would become extremely eerie because there would be times we would not see a single customer for over an hour when normally, it would be steady (and during peak hours extremely busy). Due to the pandemic, our manager left the business and that left me and another co-worker (now the manager) in charge of a store that normally has 8 eight employees. Normally during this time of year, even though it is summer, the Union is completely full due to Freshman Orientation, camps, and campus tours. Currently, as my photo suggests, the Union is a ghost yard....there are no students during the lunch hours, no restaurants open other than the convenience store, and no staff walking around. Ever since last March, this is not only how the Union has been, but also the campus itself. I chose to take a picture of the Student Union Courtyard because this is normally where events are held during open hours in the Union. This is not to show that there are no individuals in the building, what I specifically want to bring attention to is because of no people in the building, it is completely silent 95% of the time. In addition, this is where the Freshman Orientation stations would be where they go to get information about classes and other events on campus. It is very weird to have no one in the building when two years ago they had roughly 2,000 people in the building during the lunch hour period when I worked for Follett's convenience store. It would be extremely loud, at all times and the shifts would go by quickly. Now...there is nothing but silence about 95% of the time on a public campus of 21,000 students!
• 
  2020-07

  Silence and Isolation

  This is important because it speaks to the daily struggle of living through the pandemic. I was not touched by the disease itself, but my life was changed by it. My submission describes my sensory experiences of isolation during the pandemic as I moved to a new city for work. It expresses how the pandemic brought more than health issues but social issues to society as well.
• 
  2020-09-30

  The Sounds of What is Lost

  This story speaks to the ever-changing sounds of the pandemic. Sensory history allows us to engage with the past in ways the invite the senses of the past back into the story. As my partner and I were navigating all the trials and tribulations conjured into existence by the events of the past year and a half, we noticed how silent our home full of sadness and confusion had been. Gone were the overhead aerial shows, the chatty neighbors, the rattling railway tracks... Now there was nothing. Our sense of sound changed dramatically and began to represent how fractured our connection to the world was. We had to be plugged in to tune each other out. We had to stare at a screen to see a familiar face. While most things felt, looked, and smelled different, there was nothing that sounded the same.
• 2021-07-01

  A New Normal

  The COVID-19 pandemic came upon our lives in what seemed a very sudden fashion, forcing us into quarantine and changing our habits. Almost suddenly, the noisy, bustling streets became empty. The sounds of cars with people commuting to work disappeared. The friendly faces I’d see at work would be traded for a face on a screen. Remaining at home gave me both a sense of security and a feeling of isolation and loneliness. During brief outings to get necessities at the grocery store, it became odd to see each other with our faces covered. There was a feeling of unease as we made our way through the aisles, doing our best to remain six feet apart. Many times, I often felt disconnected, and initially a little wary of others. Were they infected or asymptomatic? Was I? I missed seeing my friends. I missed the shared meals we would have in a busy, noisy restaurant. I missed the smell of coffee brewing at my local coffee shop while I typed away on my laptop. So many experiences that we took for granted, disappeared in an instant. Over time, this way of living became our new normal. The scent of hand sanitizer and antibacterial cleaner became a regular part of my life. Hearing the regular news reports on the rising death toll was devastating. The feeling of the mask on my face as I made brief forays out into society gave me the comfort in knowing I was protecting others in case I was an asymptomatic carrier. I still shudder at those who express the sentiment that the masks were a form of oppression. I viewed it as a small sacrifice for the benefit of the many. As we appear to be a downslope to overcoming the virus, I recently remarked to a friend about how it now feels strange to think about “getting back to normal”. Our normal has undoubtably changed. And many of us have changed with it.
• 
  2020-04

  Clean Hands and Empty Spirits

  This story is a small snapshot into how I felt mentally, and smelled, heard, and touched physically during April 2020. It talks about how the smells and noises around me at the time contributed to my worsening mental state and the feeling of hopelessness. This is important to me because it was this time that I learned that I am mentally stronger than I think and that I can get through rough patches with the help of my husband. It was not a fun experience, but I grew from it.
• 
  2020-08-17

  Touching Ground

  This photograph is of my feet, buried in the sand and rocks of the beach of Lake Michigan, on the coast of Port Washington. Covid-19 affected so many areas of our lives in 2020, and in so many ways, that it can be hard to pin down which loss was the worst. Like many others, the sense I missed the most over the course of that long year was that of touch: physical contact with family, the cool water of the public pool, the slap of bare feet on pavement, dust coated legs on a school field trip. Over time, so many little touches were lost that it began to feel as though I was untethered, floating free in space in my little bubble of house-kids-spouse-pets. The cozy feeling of my rocking chair, the heavy press of my son on my lap and the rasp of my dog's coat against my knee became the only thing I registered, my little space-ship in this weird galaxy of loneliness created by Covid-19. In August I left the house for the first time in far too long, headed for the abandoned shoreline of a nearby coast town, desperate to feel connected to anything outside my little bubble. I stood there, feeling the spray of the water on my ankles, the grit of the sand and rocks between my toes, the sun on my face and the wind against my skin. In these feelings I was reconnected, I was present once again, my tether to this beautiful world damaged but intact.
• 
  2020-09-08

  First Day of School Scents

  September 8, 2020 was the first day of school at my regional high school and I was beginning my third year as a teacher. As always, the night before the first day of school was marked by butterflies, but this time around, the butterflies were not due to the excitement and hecticness of the first day, but due to fear. As someone who social distanced to an extent unmatched by most of my peers, coming to school on the first day terrified me, as I was concerned with putting myself around so many other people in such a small room, specifically high school students who certainly enjoyed more social interaction over the summer than I did. However, as a teacher, I had to come in with a smile on my face, as you can see in the picture, despite the immense fear I was feeling in the pit of my stomach. What I remember most clearly is the smell of the school. The hallways were filled with hand sanitizer dispensers which released a scent that could overpower all else. Individual classrooms were packed with cleaning supplies and Lysol wipes which I had to clean each desk with between periods. What is so shocking is that more than anything, it is these smells that I associate with the fear I felt that first day of school. Though that first day was one of the most fear-inducing days of my life, the year ended up being incredibly rewarding and my students and I together helped each other through one o f the mo st difficult years of our lives. Though originally nervous to teach in 2020, I am incredibly grateful to have been able to conquer this year with my students by my side. Hopefully someday I will not have such an adverse reaction to the smell of hand sanitizer.
• 
  -0021-06-29

  Deli Smells and Sounds

  This story tells of the dramatic shift in "normalcy" that the pandemic interrupted.
• 2020-05-25

  First Hug in Months

  My family and I have always been really close, meeting for family days as often as we can. Family gatherings will begin and end with hugs. When the pandemic started, we ensured that we isolated from everyone, even each other, as we all live in separate households and my father and sister have autoimmune diseases, and I have asthma and two heart conditions. Basically, Covid-19 was dangerous for all of us and we were afraid not only to contract it, but even more so to possibly give it to each other. While we would talk over Google Duo and Zoom, it honestly was not the same as getting to interact in person. There is huge importance and one could even say power in human contact, in human touch. It can be something that inflicts pain or reassurance. In this case, I lost the reassurance of hugs and seeing my family in person. The first time I hugged my older sister after lockdown started was about three months after lockdown began. We had both been isolated for weeks without symptoms and without having gone anywhere, and we had both tested negative for it. It had been the longest time I have gone without hugging her. I cried.
• 2020-09

  The Sound of Learning - Teaching During the Pandemic

  On March 12th, 2020, all of the teachers and support staff in the high school where I work in Stafford, Virginia (A suburb of Washington DC) were called down to the auditorium and told by the head principal that our school would be shut down for the next two weeks as a result of Covid-19. Long story short, I did not return into that building until January of 2021. Even though I did not enter the building, between September and December of 2020, I toiled away teaching virtually via Google Meet from my basement. Teaching online was difficult - due to privacy concerns, students were not required to turn their cameras on - and none did. For the first time, I was teaching to a class of thirty without seeing anyone other than myself. Many students did not want to ask questions by unmuting their microphones, so instead they would type out questions, make comments, tell jokes, etc through the chat feature. Each time a student would send a message, my computer would make a small beeping noise. I learned to love this noise as it was the only reminder I had that there was someone listening to me. As a teacher, forming relationships is so central to the profession. At first, it seemed impossible to be a meaningful teacher when I had no clue what my students even looked like. But every time I heard that beep, I was delighted to know that someone was on the other side of that screen. Without the fear of immediate judgement of their peers, many of my students provided commentary on the lesson and made teaching fun. When teaching in person, I hate when a student tries to talk over me, so only dealing with a tiny beep was much more manageable and it was nice to see these kids communicate with one another while separated by the pandemic. Many articles that I have read have been incredibly critical of online learning, and some with good cause. I did not reach every student. Some fell back asleep, logged in then walked away, played video games, and even one of my students admitted to me that he was taking his dog on a walk during class. But hearing that beep reminded me that there are students out there that can make connections even when it seems impossible.
• 
  2020-08-15

  Laughter is a Girl's Best Friend

  The image I included shows the sense of sound. In the picture submitted my two close friends and I are laughing in a picture together. The story I am regarding with this is the fact the pandemic deprived me of hearing not only their voices in person but also their laughter. In my state we started the lockdown by late March, so all of us were not quarantining together, so the time when the pandemic was the worst was the longest, we went without seeing each other in person. Of course, like other people, we would use technology, like Facetime and Zoom. Like most other people know, Zoom is not the same as in person. So this picture shows us laughing and for the first time in a really long time to hear us all laughing was musical. I think this particular sensory history shows the importance of what a person hears from day to day, or on a regular basis. It becomes clear in times of global pandemics what gets taken for granted until it is taken away. I think when this history gets studied in years to come, historians are going to see a recharge in what people think is important. Those simple things, like a friend's laugh, were lost in the time of quarantine.
• 
  2020-06-14

  Solace in the Smell

  This is a story about how hand sanitizer kept one woman hopeful during the pandemic. "Sanitation theater" was a coping mechanism used by individuals, businesses, and organizations used to convince ourselves that we were safe. So much of what we needed during the pandemic, was respite from the dread and insecurity. So much was unknown and so much felt out of control. The smell of the hand sanitizer produced by my local distillery instantly evokes the emotions I felt at the height of the pandemic
• 
  2020-12-04

  Henshin! The nostalgia wanes and reality sets in.

  Overcrowded movie theaters, expensive popcorn, and escapism entertainment made for the best days as a child of the 20th century. Surrounded by an ever growing crisis of climate change, the rising political tensions domestic and foreign; nearly every issue fades away as the lights dim in a theater, directing all attention to the action set pieces of the latest blockbuster hit. Unfortunately now, there are no lights to dim, no popcorn to smell, the once intense reverberating sound and art of audio mixing, is now forced to protrude from broken TV sound bars. The magnificent subtle nuances of orchestral scores, become muffled by the yelling of neighbors. As basic and selfish as it may seem, Covid-19 served as a reminder of the unobtainable nostalgia and senses that surround my past, the art of escapism through film. In 2020 I witnessed the passing of loved ones, relationships dwindle, and ironically the comfort of escapism...has now escaped me. Movie theaters were closed, the discomfort of the slightly course and rough woven stitched seats, became a desperate dream, a return to normalcy. The artificial smell of buttered popcorn, along with the overpriced snacks, became memories of an easier past. I wrote Henshin, as a manifestation of the changes of Covid-19. It isn't necessarily that films can never be enjoyed again, but the ability to truly escape, is gone. We view, smell, feel and see things differently now. The bombastic sensation within a theater, sharing the laughs, cries and emotions with other children, is now replaced with a constant checking of watches to return again to the world. The smell of artificial flavoring may be gone forever. Loved ones will never carry us out of a theater again. The inconvenient sounds of crowds, machines, and other viewers, are now replaced with conventional house noises. Undoubtedly film will return, theaters will open up again, but the once wholesome experience from the past has changed. The families laughs have now turned to cries, quoting movies with one another has turned to editing eulogies, smells are now memories instead of new experiences.
• 
  2020-06-26

  From Noise to Silence

  The Pandemic impacted everyone in different ways. Everyone's life changed in one way or another. For me, my life went from hustling and bustling to peace, silence, and alone time. Before the Pandemic, my daily routine was driving 45 minutes to work daily, frequent trips to Mexico, and I was constantly on the move. A full-time student, and part-time tutor, I was continually helping students and finding study time at my local Community College. Also, I would frequent local Starbucks often to work on my reading and writing assignments. However, when the Pandemic hit, everything changed for me. Now, instead of driving to work daily and visiting Mexico, I found myself working online, studying in my room, and not seeing anyone face to face except for immediate relatives. For the majority of the Pandemic, I did not go anywhere as I previously did. In other words, the hustling and bustling of the highway now turned into silence, the continued camaraderie between students and cow-workers now turned into silence, and just like that, my life altered to a new dimension of silence like have never experienced.
• 2020-10-28

  Pierogis and Kielbasa: Sound and Smell During COVID-19

  Before the pandemic and the subsequent lockdowns began, hearing or seeing a loved one seemed almost a certainty. Although I worried for the safety of all my friends and family, I was most concerned with the well-being of my aging, immunocompromised grandmother. As a daughter of Eastern European immigrants, she was accustomed to eating ethnic Polish food. Throughout my childhood, she would kindly make pierogis and kielbasa sausage for me and my sister. The savory aroma of pierogis and kielbasa sausage cooking in sauerkraut inundated the senses. With the onset of the pandemic, however, my life, as with so many others, changed. Unfortunately, my grandmother is not accustomed to using video-chat services; however, hearing her voice over the phone or social-distancing on her porch allowed me to maintain contact, hear her voice, and smell the wonderful aroma of the food she always made for me as a child. Although momentary, the loss of hearing my grandmother’s voice as well as her delicious food made me realize how important it is to cherish the connections you have with your loved ones. During a time of uncertainty, tragedy, and disconnection, a loved one’s voice (as well as the food they make) can provide an emotional uplift.
• 
  2021-07-27

  Out of Touch

  When I spent the Thanksgiving 2019 holiday with my family at my grandparent’s house, I had no idea that my hug goodbye would be the last hug I could share with my grandmother for a very long while. With the onset of the coronavirus pandemic, the CDC pushed multiple changes to prevent the spread of the virus which included social distancing. Both my grandparents are at high risk with underlying health conditions, so possible exposure to the virus was not an option for them. For us, social distancing also meant family distancing. Thankfully, I was able to have regular meetings with them on their front porch. We kept one of the front doors closed to separate us, and we talked from a safe distance. It was not the same as what I was used to and I missed the closeness that we once had, but they were moments to cherish as I did not know when I would get to hug them again. Sadly, I was not the only individual forced to find new ways to stay in touch with family members. All over the internet, heartbreaking pictures and videos surfaced showing families separated by hospital windows, mothers giving birth without family in the delivery room to support them and hold their new baby, and people ‘touching’ their loved one’s hands through glass barriers. These moments showed how the coronavirus left many families out of touch. Once the virus started to slow down and vaccines became accessible, I was finally able to spend more time with my grandparents without the physical barrier. Lots of people are talking about a ‘new normal’ now that cities are reopening and people are getting to go back to their lives. For me, getting to hug my grandmother again was a sign that everything would be okay, and life finally felt normal.
• 
  2021-01-24

  Coffee Shops and a Sense of Normalcy During COVID-19

  When COVID-19 started affecting Kansas City, little changed at first. We wore masks, used hand sanitizer, etc., but life went on as normal otherwise. As the virus progressed, we closed our offices and I started working from home. One of my pre-COVID rituals was a trip to Broadway Cafe close to my house for a great latte or macchiato. At least this ritual was still intact. Then, the coffee shops all closed. It sounds silly to say this affected me even more than going into the office. It was my normal routine for so many years though...that a trip to the coffee shop served as an anchor for feeling life would go on, regardless of how far the virus progressed. The audio file attached is my espresso machine at home. I now buy coffee beans for the house, grind them, and pour shots of espresso to drink straight or craft into a macchiato or latte. The sound of my machine grinding beans, pressing the grounds into a puck, and then pouring into shot glasses still did not replace the coffee shop, but it did become an anchor to help me adjust when I needed it most. Today, our coffee shops are open for pickup service. Between that and still pouring my own at home, using their beans, life is good. I look forward to a post-COVID world where the local roasters and coffee shops continue to play an important role in my personal sense of normalcy and the social health of our collective neighborhoods.
• 
  2020-05-20

  Gia's Soft Fur

  I will always remember the feeling of my dog Gia's soft fur and the tickle and wetness of her silky tongue licking my hand during this pandemic. These sensory experiences soothed me during a stressful and anxiety-ridden time during the COVID pandemic. When the pandemic worsened in March 2020 and the state of Utah went into a full lockdown, my family's life changed suddenly. My son's birthday party was canceled. My children began school online. My husband no longer found himself flying to New York or Los Angeles, and I found myself filled with worry and anxiety. How will my elderly parents weather this pandemic? Will I get them sick? Will I be responsible for their deaths? Will my 9-year-old son become depressed because he can no longer play hockey or football? How will my 13-year-old handle feeling emotionally isolated because she can no longer hang out with her friends? All of these worries plagued my mind and made my body stiff, my neck sore, my mood heavy with stress. My family soon found ourselves in a new routine. We spent more quality time together since we were no longer rushing to get to activities. There was more time for dinner and meaningful conversation. However, there was still a heaviness, and everything seemed to be wrapped in a layer of anxiety. An unexpected text from my sister-in-law (who is an animal control officer) changed our lives. A darling 3-year-old black and white miniature poodle had just been dropped off at the shelter. Her elderly owner had died of COVID-19, and this sweet dog needed a home. After a quick family meeting, it was unanimous; we wanted the dog! Gia immediately became more than a pet; she became a source of comfort and calm to me. With a sweet temperament, she always seemed to know when I was full of anxiety. Each night I would sit on the couch watching the nightly news, my body tight and sore, the rigidness seeping into my muscles that comes with prolonged stress. Unaware at first that I was even doing it, I would reach for Gia, who would lay close to me, and begin stroking her fur. Often, her silky pink tongue would lick my hand, and the combination soothed and relaxed my body. Even as worry began to swirl in my mind, the questions continuing: when will it be our turn to catch this virus? Will I have lasting effects from it? Gia was there, her warm body lying beside mine, her soft fur between my fingers relaxing my body and easing my mind. During this COVID-19 pandemic, I had read that almost all the rescue dogs had been adopted across the nation. I guess I was not the only person in need of emotional comfort during this isolating time. This pandemic has taken an emotional toll on everyone I know. I feel so grateful that Gia came into our lives during this pandemic. This sweet dog has become more than a pet. She has become an emotional support dog for my daughter when she is lonely and a physical companion for my son when he needs to run crazy through the house. Gia is there when my nerves are frazzled from worry about the pandemic. She gently lays her warm body next to mine, as if knowing I need her near me to ease my anxiety. I stroke her soft fur, close my eyes, and remind myself to BREATHE.
• 2020-03-01

  Daily life at an Air Force Major Command

  Daily life at Head Quarters (HQ) Air Force Global Strike Command (AFGSC) before COVID-19 and its restrictions was full of sounds and constant movement. It was customary to walk the halls and hear keypads beeping, and door locks clicking or overhear conversations as you pass people in the halls. Meetings were full of people, and the subtle roar of conversation was only stopped by the entrance of a General officer or other meeting chairpeople. As the restrictions for COVID-19 began to roll across the country, AFGSC was quick to implement them. First came a stop movement for personnel and a restriction of movements. There would be no or severely limited Permeant Change of Stations, and all temporary duty (TDY) was canceled for the foreseeable future. All personnel was to limit their office spaces to allow for six feet of distances and, if not capable of initiating telework procedures (which was an accomplishment in itself). This was the moment that life changed at HQ AFGSC. There would be fewer beeps and clicks. There would be no hallway conversations overheard because the hallways were nearly empty on a day-to-day basis. There were no more in-person meetings resulting in the muting of the subtle roars of conversations and the sudden silences created as meetings started. However, there was a new element created from COVID-19, a smell everywhere you went. Cleaning and self-sanitization ramped up at AFGSC. Every office you entered now had a hand sanitization station on a post or a wall. The restrooms and common areas cleaning increased, resulting in a lasting scent of bleach and other strong cleaners. But still, the most surprising thing was the silence that COVID-19 created in an ordinarily bustling Command.
• 2021-01

  An Old Gray Piece of Cloth

  Gabriel Rheaume’s Sensory history contribution to COVID-19 Archive I would like to submit my gray, cotton face mask to the COVID-19 Archive. It is perhaps not as the most important item, but certainly it is the most present item for me throughout this pandemic. At almost a full year into this adventure, everyone has a keen familiarity with and opinion of face masks. I got this one as a gift. It feels about the same as getting socks on Christmas, except more useful. I have used this thing every single day unless I forget it—which sends me into a chaotic panic. I am a teacher in a suburb of Nashville, TN. Our school district insists on teaching in person, despite having alarmingly high infection rates in our community. This mask is now part of my daily uniform, a non-negotiable. It serves as a role model for students. A sign that their health is of paramount concern to us. It is part of everything I do. I have dozens of paper replacements in my desk. Those aren’t as good. They straps hurt your ears. The cloth ones are better, more comfortable. I thought about getting one with my favorite band’s logo, but I am going to stick with this old reliable gray, cotton mask. The smell of this mask will haunt me the rest of my life. I wash it multiple times per week. It often smells like laundry detergent. That is a good thing. However, by the end of the day it often smells like whatever I had for lunch. The masks gets hot. It is blasted with my carbon dioxide for eight hours straight. It gets really bad when I have to lecture during the day. When you inhale sharply to talk, it sucks in the material. I’ve learned how to breathe differently when I have the mask on. Sometimes I just pinch the end and hold it with my fingers while I talk. I can rarely take it off. I panic if I forget to put it on when I leave my classroom to go anywhere. Who would have ever thought this little cloth mask would be so important? I often doubt that it is effective at preventing the spread or contraction of infection. I am certainly NOT an anti-masker. But it’s a piece of cloth. I guess that it’s better than nothing. This gray cotton face mask, sometimes imbued with the glorious smell of fresh linen in the breeze or Last night’s roast and mashed potatoes has become a source of loathing and resentment, but simultaneously an anti-viral security blanket (if only in my imagination). Yet, I can’t wait to get rid of this vile thing.
• 2021-01-09

  Lionel Trains & Billy Joel

  Last Saturday night, my folks came to visit, bringing beef stew and, yet another birthday gift for our now 3 year daughter Lennon (her birthday was a week before and they’d already showered her with gifts at that time). Of course, we’ve kept a very close circle since March last year, and that has become increasingly more important since, now my wife is 8 months pregnant, son on the way. Our reality being quite different from the norm this past year is of course, not unique to us, but had Covid not been a thing, last Saturday night, it can be counted on, that we would have been at a boisterous gathering, hosted by family members of one side or the other. My wife’s family and my own; they’re strong in numbers and lack modesty, but not volume. We miss that, but the small, quieter gatherings that the necessity of the moment has brought moments that might have been missed. That’s too much of a lead in, so I’ll make the point more brief, When my parents came, the oven cleaner was burning off. My wife and mother brought attention to it. But the smell brought me back to my childhood. That’s exactly what I said, and I looked at my dad, because I knew that he’d be the one that knew what I was talking about, though I wasn’t necessarily sure what I was talking about. This briefly interrupted our trying to construct a Troll castle (with way too many tiny parts!) or something, that my parents had just gotten for their granddaughter. But then, dad said, “Lionel Trains” That was it! The toy trains on the track that my father, brother and I used to do when we were kids. It brought us back, that was the smell. It’s probably not healthy, but it was a really nice moment. Ok, that made me think of a time that my brother recognized a smell from childhood. I was like 12, my brother 14, I think it was my first concert. My father had taken us to see Billy Joel at the Spectrum in Philadelphia, we had fun. After the show, walking through the parking lot to the car, my brother said, “What’s that smell? I remember it from when we were little.” My dad said, “That’s pot.”
• 2021-01-14

  The Silencing of Industry

  The sensory experience that overwhelmed me the most as the United States, and the world, came to an abrupt halt when it was realized that we were in a pandemic virus outbreak was an aural experience—it was the overwhelming silence that came with the world stopping. I live in a heavy industrial town on the Pacific coast Of Washington. While I live about fifty miles from the cities and one hundred miles from Seattle the economy of this area is based around heavy industry and there is constant noise that comes with this. There is a port a mile from my house that is said to be the busiest deep-water port on the northwest coast. At this port soybeans, wheat, oil and lumber are shipped out and German cars built in Mexico are brought in, among other commodities. In my neighborhood there are four train tracks. The closest one is about five hundred feet from my house, the next three are another three hundred feet further. Those train tracks bring goods into the port like soybeans and wheat from the farm fields west of the Cascade mountains and fuel and oil for the ships and for the operations at the port. The train tracks also ship out the cars that come in from Mexico to car dealerships throughout the Northwest. Across from the four train tracks there are lumber mills. The lumber mills load up chip trucks (trucks that carry sawdust from the sawmills to paper mills) and the chip trucks roll in and out of town on a constant basis. The log trucks also roll through town on a constant basis and the log truck drivers as well as chip truck drivers live in the area and park their trucks at their houses. All of this leads to a very noisy area for such a small population. This has never bothered me as the only thing that I really miss about living in cities is the noise. This is the reason why the first thing I noticed as the Covid-19 shut down occurred was how much silence there was. No longer were there log trucks and chip trucks rolling through town. No longer was the rumbling and squelch of the train heard in the early morning and the late afternoon throughout the town. No longer were the airhorns and warning sirens heard from the port. It was just pure silence.
• 
  2021-01-16

  Fewer people are crossing back to the United States, and less noise.

  The story I uploaded is about people crossing the United States Calexico CA port of entry before and after the pandemic.
• 
  2020-01-14

  A Peppermint December

  December was the most stressful month of the year. My entire family got Covid-19 right before Christmas and I was struggling with anxiety for most of the month, which has been compounded by the pandemic. One of the ways I've sought to alleviate stress when going to bed at night is by putting peppermint essential oil in an oil diffuser as I fall asleep. Peppermint smells and feels naturally calming to me. The strong and comforting scent has at times made me feel that I can breathe better and easier. A small and perhaps cliché remedy has at times made a world of difference.
• 
  2021-06-14

  Embracing the Plants

  Once the pandemic was in full swing, food became rather scarce out in the county where I live. Frozen meals? Gone. Frozen vegetables? Gone. Meat? Gone. Dairy products? Sparse. What I could find in abundance were fresh fruit and vegetables. Largely because these do not store long term and people were stocking up on everything that they could hoard for the long haul. Could I really sustain my meat-loving family of 4 on fresh fruits and vegetables to help stretch our very thin stock of meats and dairy products? I have included some basic recipes that I used to help get through the pandemic. This massive change in diet left a lasting impact on my experience of the pandemic through my sense of smell, taste, and hearing. Meals no longer smelled like warm cooked meat with roasting potatoes. Meals became light and fresh. My house began smelling more like a garden every time I prepared a meal. I also no longer smelled the warmth of the stove or the smell of a pan heating up, since we chose to eat a lot of the plants and fruits in a more raw style to get the maximum nutritional value. The taste of meals and snacks changed from processed foods to natural snacks like nuts, dates, and dried fruit. I could taste the change from the pandemic. Everyday noises that would occur in my pre-pandemic household were no longer present in my pandemic household. No longer was there the sound of the oven turning on, the microwave running, or oil popping in the pan on the stove top. Instead, the new normal sounds were that of the food processor to make hummus, the sound of the blender making smoothies, and the sharp tap of the knife colliding with the cutting board. The recipes I chose to include are ones that we started with that have changed the way we eat. These were the easiest to sustain with readily available produce in my rural area.
• 
  2020-11-02

  Cold in the Classroom

  If you have ever been in a middle school classroom, feeling cold is probably not the first thing that you think of. One might think of rowdy kids, perhaps non-inviting smells, stuffy air, but not necessarily the feeling of cold. After going home on March 13, 2020, I was forced to work remotely for the remainder of the 2019-20 school year due to the COVID-19 pandemic. It is still crazy to think how quickly everything changed from normal life to the furthest thing from it—just two days before the end of in-person schooling, I was still planning on going on the eighth grade Washington, DC trip! Anyway, going into the 2020-21 school year, because teachers were allowed to return to their classrooms (even though school would remain in distance for the foreseeable future), I decided that I would go into my classroom and work from there. I figured that it would help create a sense of normalcy in my own life while offering a familiar background to my students. After a few d ays of w orking from school without any students, I noticed how cold it was in my classroom. On a normal school day, I would turn on the air conditioning fairly early in the morning, being that the room would become warm and stuffy shortly after the students arrived. Even with it warm outside, I was noticing myself running the heater well into the afternoon. Without the heater, my classroom would quickly become unbearably cold! With brick walls and only a thin layer of carpet over a concrete floor, it is clear why it was so cold. I was just one person in a room that would normally have around 30—my body heat alone wasn't going to heat up the room! It is amazing to think that a silly little thing like the temperature of my classroom kind of got me down. No matter what I did to try and simulate normal life, it was just impossible for life to be normal, and that nagging cold was there to remind me of that fact. Just writing this down, I can feel the cold on my arms and legs, and I have a n urge to go and get a blanket, put on a sweatshirt, or turn on the heater. Come to think about it, I can also feel the pain in my lower back from sitting in front of a computer all day! In addition to the sense of touch/feeling being noticeably different, I have to say, the absence of, shall we say, interesting smells has also been out of the ordinary for my middle school classroom. I really cannot complain all too much when it comes to my experiences during the COVID-19 pandemic; I am lucky enough to still be employed, I can work at home if I wanted to, and no one all too close to me has had the disease. A great many people around the globe have had their lives shattered in the past year, so I really should be counting my blessings. With that said, I feel as if the coldness of my classroom somewhat symbolizes the isolation that I (and many others) are feeling during this trying time. The simple fact that there are not 30+ individuals in the room is causing the cold and, again, it is a nagging reminder that the world is simply not the same as it was a year ago, no matter how much we wish it were.
• 
  2020-11-02

  Cold in the Classroom

  If you have ever been in a middle school classroom, feeling cold is probably not the first thing that you think of. One might think of rowdy kids, perhaps non-inviting smells, stuffy air, but not necessarily the feeling of cold. After going home on March 13, 2020, I was forced to work remotely for the remainder of the 2019-20 school year due to the COVID-19 pandemic. It is still crazy to think how quickly everything changed from normal life to the furthest thing from it—just two days before the end of in-person schooling, I was still planning on going on the eighth grade Washington, DC trip! Anyway, going into the 2020-21 school year, because teachers were allowed to return to their classrooms (even though school would remain in distance for the foreseeable future), I decided that I would go into my classroom and work from there. I figured that it would help create a sense of normalcy in my own life while offering a familiar background to my students. After a few days of working from school without any students, I noticed how cold it was in my classroom. On a normal school day, I would turn on the air conditioning fairly early in the morning, being that the room would become warm and stuffy shortly after the students arrived. Even with it warm outside, I was noticing myself running the heater well into the afternoon. Without the heater, my classroom would quickly become unbearably cold! With brick walls and only a thin layer of carpet over a concrete floor, it is clear why it was so cold. I was just one person in a room that would normally have around 30—my body heat alone wasn't going to heat up the room! It is amazing to think that a silly little thing like the temperature of my classroom kind of got me down. No matter what I did to try and simulate normal life, it was just impossible for life to be normal, and that nagging cold was there to remind me of that fact. Just writing this down, I can feel the cold on my arms and legs, and I have an urge to go and get a blanket, put on a sweatshirt, or turn on the heater. Come to think about it, I can also feel the pain in my lower back from sitting in front of a computer all day! In addition to the sense of touch/feeling being noticeably different, I have to say, the absence of, shall we say, interesting smells has also been out of the ordinary for my middle school classroom. I really cannot complain all too much when it comes to my experiences during the COVID-19 pandemic; I am lucky enough to still be employed, I can work at home if I wanted to, and no one all too close to me has had the disease. A great many people around the globe have had their lives shattered in the past year, so I really should be counting my blessings. With that said, I feel as if the coldness of my classroom somewhat symbolizes the isolation that I (and many others) are feeling during this trying time. The simple fact that there are not 30+ individuals in the room is causing the cold and, again, it is a nagging reminder that the world is simply not the same as it was a year ago, no matter how much we wish it were.
• 2020-04-13

  School Bells and Silence

  In late March, families in Portland, OR were told to prepare themselves for children to finish their school year from home. While my husband and I don’t have kids, we live across the street from an elementary school and enjoy hearing the children play as we go about our life at home. I loved hearing their laughter and giggles as they lined up outside of their classroom doors or the screeches that filled the air as they tore out of the doors for some much needed recess time on the playground. Then, on April 13, 2020, the laughter, the hollering, the clangs of playground equipment stopped. Up until that point, I could set my personal schedule by the sounds of that playground and now those sounds were gone. The quietness that remained behind was made even more eerie by the daily bells that rang from the school’s outdoor intercom system to signify the start of the day, end of recess, etc.. The tones that were barely audible on a normal day due to all of the commotion on the playground were suddenly a very loud, and real reminder that the world was different. It took the school nearly two months to turn off those alarms and every single day for those two months, at 8:25, 11:45, 12:15, and 2:25, those bells echoed throughout the neighborhood reminding everyone how much our world had truly changed. The alarm bells are now off and have been for nearly 6 months. It’s very quiet at the school. While we’ve all gotten used to the silence, every so often a family will head to the playground and, for a minute as the sounds of a child’s laughter drifts through the windows of my house, I remember what it was like before COVID and am suddenly slammed back into the reality of what our day to day lives have become. I can’t wait to hear those happy voices again - it will mean our lives are back to whatever new normal is on the other side of this pandemic.
• 2021-01-15

  The old gray mask

  I would like to submit my gray, cotton face mask to the COVID-19 Archive. It is perhaps not as the most important item, but certainly it is the most present item for me throughout this pandemic. At almost a full year into this adventure, everyone has a keen familiarity with and opinion of face masks. I got this one as a gift. It feels about the same as getting socks on Christmas, except more useful. I have used this thing every single day unless I forget it—which sends me into a chaotic panic. I am a teacher in a suburb of Nashville, TN. Our school district insists on teaching in person, despite having alarmingly high infection rates in our community. This mask is now part of my daily uniform, a non-negotiable. It serves as a role model for students. A sign that their health is of paramount concern to us. It is part of everything I do. I have dozens of paper replacements in my desk. Those aren’t as good. They straps hurt your ears. The cloth ones are better, more comfortable. I thought about getting one with my favorite band’s logo, but I am going to stick with this old reliable gray, cotton mask. The smell of this mask will haunt me the rest of my life. I wash it multiple times per week. It often smells like laundry detergent. That is a good thing. However, by the end of the day it often smells like whatever I had for lunch. The masks gets hot. It is blasted with my carbon dioxide for eight hours straight. It gets really bad when I have to lecture during the day. When you inhale sharply to talk, it sucks in the material. I’ve learned how to breathe differently when I have the mask on. Sometimes I just pinch the end and hold it with my fingers while I talk. I can rarely take it off. I panic if I forget to put it on when I leave my classroom to go anywhere. Who would have ever thought this little cloth mask would be so important? I often doubt that it is effective at preventing the spread or contraction of infection. I am certainly NOT an anti-masker. But it’s a piece of cloth. I guess that it’s better than nothing. This gray cotton face mask, sometimes imbued with the glorious smell of fresh linen in the breeze or Last night’s roast and mashed potatoes has become a source of loathing and resentment, but simultaneously an anti-viral security blanket (if only in my imagination). Yet, I can’t wait to get rid of this vile thing.
• 
  2020-05

  The Sound of Silence

  The experience I am sharing focuses on my sense of hearing. Work has shifted away from office buildings and into our homes and, as a result, downtown urban areas emptied. This was especially true in mid-May of 2020. The one time I was in my city's downtown, it was uncomfortably quiet, and the negative reaction I had in the moment caught me off guard. Covid19 put me in a constant state of anxiety, and this is one more example of how seemingly small differences in a familiar environment can turn us upside down.
• 2021-01-14

  Sensory History: What Does The Plague Year Smell Like?

  If someone asked me ten years from now the defining smell that I remember from the plague year, I would quickly respond with hand-sanitizer. Before the start of the pandemic, it was the smell of bleach and Pine-sol that reminded me of those bygone days when my mom would wake up early on a Saturday to open all the windows and scrub the house from top to bottom because “cleanliness was next to godliness” as she would say. In the past, the smell of bleach and Pine-sol had come to mean a sense of cleanliness and the simpler days of childhood, where my biggest fear was missing the latest Power Rangers episode. However, hand-sanitizer mixed with its scent of alcohol and strong perfume has now become the smell that I relate to cleanliness. Hand-sanitizer has become that essential item in my purse that I cannot leave the house without first checking to see if I have more than one bottle. When I leave a public space, the first thing I reach for is not my car keys or my cellphone; instead, it is my Bath & Body Works Pocketbac Sanitizer. It has become an accessory that matches my outfits, masks, and even daily perfume choices. This past fall, when I celebrated my birthday, one of my most exciting gifts was not my seasonal favorite body spray, Sweet Cinnamon Pumpkin, but the hand-sanitizer that shared its name. Hand sanitizer has become a safety net and tool to make venturing in public spaces with high touch areas a bit easier. While handwashing, social-distancing, and proper face coverings are the most effective way to prevent the spread of Covid-19, hand sanitizers can hold one over until they can wash their hands properly. Anyone with children can agree that hand-sanitizer is a necessary tool because kids touch everything.
• 
  2021-01-15

  Out of the Woodwork: Innovation of Sanitation in 2020

  A self-account of the exploding market of hand sanitizer and the smell thereof
• 
  2020-04

  Banana Muffins

  When the pandemic began, the company I work for sent us all to work from home. While I did some baking and cooking before, I took it upon myself to grow and learn more. Plus, in the office we usually had some sort of food available, and now I had to provide that for myself. I began looking up recipes to make at home that were fast and easy, yet really good. I stumbled on this recipe and now it is my go to recipe. The smell from them baking and after they come out of the oven is great, and they don't take too much time. The smell lingers in the house the rest of the day as well, and the I love the flavor of these muffins.
• 
  2020-10-11

  Limited capacity

  I want to a Dallas Cowboys in October at AT&T Stadium were they were allowing in-person audiences with “limited capacity” and with masks. When I want to the stadium that has a capacity of over hundred thousand only twenty percent was allowed. As I sat in the stadium to watch the game, a roaring crowd took on a different meaning to audible sensory experiences. That is to say, because of the lack of fans crowd noises were piped in to emulate a hundred thousand people cheering. This was done to give fans a game feeling although we knew this noise was manufactured. Although this noise was piped in, yet it never felt like a real game. The COVID-19 pandemic and my trip to the Dallas game had many effects on my senses as it relates to “limited capacity.” One, it caused my audible senses to now have to distinguish real from manufactured. Second, it made me further appreciate sounds of cheering and the silence of disappointment. Lastly, it made me realize that although visual sensory and memory plays a major part in our life experiences, audible sensory is just as important to us especially because the pandemic circumstance causes disruption in our lives.
• 
  2020-01-11

  Silent Bells & Quiet Halls: An Auditory Experience of the COVID-19 Pandemic

  In almost every aspect of life, COVID-19 has put the world on mute. From canceled weddings and downsized gatherings to remote workspaces and quiet homes left behind by those we have lost, the overwhelming soundtrack of the pandemic is silence. When K-12 students in the United States transitioned to distance learning nearly 10 months ago, elementary, middle, and high school campuses were abandoned, leaving bells silenced and hallways quiet. From March to November, this silence came to define my work at Princeton Joint Unified School District in the rural town of Princeton, California. No longer did bells ring to mark the end of one period and the beginning of another, lockers no longer slammed shut as students rushed to gather their belongings, and students could no longer be heard gossiping, laughing, and playing during morning break. While this silence initially felt like summer vacation had merely arrived a few months early, the lack of auditory stimulation began to diminish morale and decrease productivity as work felt further removed from the students themselves, transforming human beings into pieces of data and names on a paper. I could often go an entire eight-hour shift without speaking to another person, frequently finding my voice raspy when I would pick up the phone for the first time in hours. Even among coworkers, passing conversations vanished and became simple one-line emails dealing only with the business at hand. As Zoom calls replaced in-person staff meetings and participants remained on mute, the noisy world in which I once worked fell even further away. When in-person learning became optional in November, the sound slowly began to return, but it had changed from what it once was. Growing accustomed to the silence over the long summer, I often found myself jolted in surprise at each unexpected bell or sound of students on the playground. The number of students has drastically lowered since we first closed in March, as many opt to remain home to avoid possible exposure, while lunchtimes are now staggered, and breaks are shortened to prevent spread, creating ominously quiet and often uncomfortable atmospheres. The unease and discomfort heard in students' softened voices displays that widespread uncertainty that has permeated every corner of society. It is my greatest hope that schools will return to "normal" for the 2021-2022 school year and that the sounds of carefree students once more fill the hallways and classrooms of Princeton Joint Unified School District. Silence has become an all-too-painful reality of the COVID-19 pandemic, and I look forward to the day that bells ring on their regular schedule, coworkers are free to converse with one another, and every student returns to campus. In images and articles documenting the pandemic, the overwhelming auditory silence that many of us are experiencing is often lost and forgotten.
• 
  2020-04-03

  The Game of COVID Life

  During the quarantine, my wife and I were having a hard time trying to adjust to our jobs being remote. We were not used to staring at computer screens for 8+ hours. The feeling of stress was overwhelming. I’m sure everyone in the world can relate to this experience. We really needed something to raise our spirits after time passed by and the world was still shut down. When my wife and I first got married in 2019, we had a problem of spending money on board games of all kinds. We ended up with a collection of 47 board games by the time COVID started (we began our marriage with about 12 board games). The thing is, with our jobs (my wife being a Public Library Administrator and I being a teacher and coach), we hardly had time to play some except a few. Who would have thought that we were unknowingly preparing for a quarantine. Our collection helped us escape reality for a bit each time we played. Game nights became a regular occurrence and we still hold them to this day. We were able to connect more as a couple and strengthen our relationship. The sounds of dice being rolled, cards being shuffled, and game pieces being moved remind me how board games helped us cope with the unexpected changes in our lives and recharge our batteries to keep going forward.
• 2020-11-26

  Thanksgiving Dressing Connection

  My family Thanksgiving's have featured a wide variety of fare throughout the years. The one constant, the one dish that has always made an appearance is dressing. The recipe is a family one that originated with my great-grandmother, a wonderful woman who lived to the ripe old age of 102. Known across the extended family as the Queen of the Kitchen, her legacy lives on through the recipes she left behind. This Thanksgiving was more difficult than any I can remember. Out of the twenty-four Thanksgiving's I have been alive to see, I have never spent one without my sister. Now, she lives a state away and health concerns surrounding my 93-year old grandmother kept my sister away. COVID-19 drastically changed the mood of the holiday, but one dish still had to be cooked. You guessed it, dressing. Ingredients: 10 baked biscuits 2-3 cups of baked yellow cornbread 1 loaf of toasted bread 1 1/2 cup chopped onion 2 cup chopped celery 1 cup celery tops 1 tablespoon sage 1 tablespoon poultry seasoning 2 cups water 1 cup chicken boullion 2 eggs Salt and pepper to taste Original Directions: Break bread into small pieces. Set aside. Put all remaining ingredients except eggs in a saucepan. Boil till celery and onions are tender. Pour over bread mixture and toss. (Add more liquid if it needs to have more water. Cool. Add eggs. Mix lightly. Put in greased pan - Bake 300 degrees for 30 minutes.
• 2020-04-27

  COVID-19 and Daycare

  I worked at a daycare in Hoover, Alabama for 5 years that provided care to over 200 children. When the state went on lockdown, our numbers dwindled down to 60 as we were only allowing children of first responders to stay. All other children were either left to their parents, babysitters, family, friends, etc. I was a lead infant teacher for babies 6-12 months. I normally have about 10 but on my first day of work after lockdown was initiated, I only had 2 and that instantly meant less noise. I have a schedule I keep but each activity lasted half the time it normally does. It gave the babies more time to play and explore but for me, I had to begin the process of deep cleaning. We were issued new cleaning products and if there was a time when you weren't busy with children, you had to clean. We kept our masks on all day for the children's sake but it limited my breathing since I wasn't used to wearing one. Add that to new, stronger cleaning products and it makes for a difficult day. I experienced the normal smells of infant care that I have for the last 5 years but the new, stronger cleaning smells altered my olfactory system. I was worried how the babies and I would react to it after we've been exposed to the chemicals for a long period of time. We weren't allowed to open our doors or windows so the smell stayed with us all day. It gave me headaches and made my babies cranky. It was a learning process with the new sanitizing methods and we all finally got a rhythm down and requested that we be allowed to open our windows and doors while cleaning. It helped us keep our kids and ourselves healthier and more conscientious about our cleaning habits. With less children around, we were able to clean thoroughly and get everything in order but it felt less like a daycare without all the noise. We worked diligently so that when lockdown was over, we could welcome back our loud and crazy kids to a new, sanitized environment.
• 2020-12-24

  COVID Smells

  My family had been fortunate to avoid COVID 19 for ten months. However, in December 2020, that changed. My symptoms began with a minor headache which, on day two, morphed into a minor cough. I was fortunate to never be hospitalized, but on day three, my experience underwent a strange and unexpected change. I began to smell the strong smell, of what could only be described as ammonia. I was once a cat person, and remember the smell of cat urine on a carpet or furniture if left untreated. This smelled exactly like that. My first reaction was to inquire of my family, and no one could smell it but I, which only served to make the experience all the more strange. When everyone can smell the same smell, it’s one thing but when only you can smell it you begin to questions your sanity. The smell of ammonia was strongest outside and somewhat subdued when indoors. It lasted for one day and was gone the next but it was strong to the point of discomfort.
• 
  2021-01-13

  The Scent of a Deli

  If you've ever set foot in a deli - a real life, New York style deli or in my case a real life Texas deli, then you know about the powerful and delightful smells that can attack your senses upon entry. In my restaurant, the traditional odors of hot corned beef and pastrami mixed with sauerkraut, bacon and horseradish combine with the popular fragrance of Texas brisket layered in a spicy bar-b-que sauce and the undeniable fragrance of apple and pecan pie. Homemade beef stew, French Onion soup and Texas chili are reducing in the kitchen while the entire restaurant fills with the aroma of good food. There is nothing quite like a deli kitchen prepping, baking, grilling and cooking in the morning. These are the distinctive smells of my life before COVID-19. Shortly after March of last year, the city of San Antonio shut down all dine-in operations throughout the city and instantly took away our morning routines and systems, forcing our restaurant to evolve just to survive. Overnight, we became a grocery store with a curbside service selling raw products like eggs, tomatoes, cold cuts and sliced cheeses. The great morning aromas of the deli were replaced with the stale, cold odors of bleach and sanitizer. Sales dipped by seventy percent and even when dine-in was reopened to fifty percent capacity, we were forced to cut our menu by half. Now, as we keep paying for our holiday gatherings, the business has come back by half but it just doesn't seem the same or at least the smells do not. We are more of a to-go business now with items packaged and tagged in sugar cane boxes and biodegradable containers. The sweet mixture of multiple savory recipes and meats cooking side by side has been replaced by vacuum sealed soups and cold cuts prepared in a sanitized and disinfected central kitchen.
• 
  2020-01-13

  Sensory history submissions and the COVID-19 Pandemic

  I am teaching HST 643 Global History at Arizona State University during the Spring A semester of 2021. For the second time, I am asking enrolled students to submit a sensory history story related to the pandemic. The students were instructed to read at least the introduction of Melanie Kiechle's Smell Detectives before posting their story. This way, they would have a better understanding of what sensory history is and why it matters. I revised the instructions this time to push students toward non-visual stories.
• 
  2020-09-08

  Clinton Kelly's 3H Lemon Sauce

  Upon news of COVID-19 spreading in the United States, my parents and I made the decision that we were going shelter in place at home. While a lot of things remained the same, my parents began watching Clinton Kelly's 3H show that he did over his Instagram story. During one of Kelly's 3H shows my mom watched him make a lemon sauce. Since I am a huge fan of anything lemon, my mom decided to make it for my family one day and I fell in love with it. The sauce can be described as creamy, lemony, and cheese-y with a lemony smell. Since making the recipe for the first time, it has become my new favorite sauce. This story is specific to the pandemic since my mom would not have watched Clinton Kelly's 3H show otherwise.
• 
  2021-01-12

  Sounds of nature over while civilization takes a break

  In Hawaii, especially on the island of Kauai there were so many tourist that near the roads and tourist shops and restaurants you most heard traffic or people, and in the evenings live entertainment for tourists. Now, in the mornings you can hear birds and at night the crickets.
• 
  2021-01-11

  Pizza and The Old Stone Church

  Lockdown restrictions to indoor dining at restaurants, which prevents friends from gathering and socializing in familiar locations.
• 2021-01-12

  Voices No Longer Heard

  In my line of work, which is construction management and execution, communication is key. Often, this begins and ends with emails, phone calls, and the occasional zoom chat to set a project up. However, once work commences, field superintendents meet daily with clients to discuss progress, delays, opportunities for improvement, and at times, complaining. Morning meetings are at the heart of the daily communications, and have always taken place at 7:30 am, with fifteen to twenty people present. From January 2020 thru the middle of March 2020, morning meeting went as they had in the past. At times, with so many in the room, expressing their ideas, it can be difficult to keep track of what is being talked about. In my role, I attend one or more of these meetings, at different jobsites, throughout the week. As Covid safety precautions took hold towards the end of March, I noticed that the meetings I attended were quieter. This was partially due to masks being worn. Whenever someone chose to speak, their voice, which had been loud a week or so prior, was now muffled and subdued. Additionally, people spoke no more than was necessary, the meetings were shorter than they had been. Gradually, power points were introduced on a screen each day so that talking was not necessary. Instead, the bosses laid out the schedule, expectations, and those in the room simply took notes. By the end of April, the morning meeting changed over to Zoom Chat, with everyone in their office, staring at a screen which displayed those same power points, saying very little or nothing at all. By this point, with social distancing in full-force, there was no need to speak. Notes were made by a Project Engineer containing key points and emailed to attendees after the conclusion of the daily Zoom. Suddenly, there was no face to face conversation, fewer phone calls, and increased emails. With masks across our faces, everyone continued their work in an eerie silence. The robust workplace, full of ideas and plans which must be heard, faded into blank stares saying nothing. With the New Year, I did not expect any change. It would be difficult to say when practices that existed only a year ago might return. This morning, I logged into Zoom for a pre-construction meeting, I was met with the same silence I heard just before the Thanksgiving holiday.
• 
  2019-03-17

  The Smell of Bread

  I have uploaded a story of scent. During the first part of the stay-at-home order in Washington state, March 2019, I baked fresh bread daily to help my family during the food shortages. The amazing aroma of bread filled my home and brought hope to my family that everything would be well.