Items
topic_interest is exactly
Arizona State University
-
2020-08-15
I Missed Normal Hand Sanitizer
I am a high school teacher, so I used a lot of hand sanitizer long before COVID-19. One of the things that I will never forget from the pandemic was the smell of the hand sanitizer. There were shortages on all disinfectants for months, and the hand sanitizers I could find were brands I had never seen before. The worst part about this new hand sanitizers was the smell. They all had a sharp smell, much worse than the normal alcohol smell. Some smelled truly terrible, almost rotten. I put lemon essential oil in one to try to change the smell, but it made no difference. It just smelled like rotten citrus. When my school went back in person in the fall of 2020, the worst part was having to sanitize all the time with the stinky hand sanitizer. I gained a whole new appreciation for Germ-X. It was almost sad how happy I was when I found a bottle of Germ-X stashed in my cupboard (because teachers were hoarding cleaning supplies before it was cool). I put it on my teacher desk behind my computer and hoarded it from the kids! -
2020-03-15
Sounds of Silience
My story is about the absence of sound during the pandemic. -
2020-04-02
The Silence of Nature
I live in a rural area of southeastern Louisiana. When I first moved here the only thing that you could hear at night was the natural sounds that one would think of when being in the country, but as developments started to move into my area the air was polluted with the sound of cars on the distant interstate. The nights become a harmony of grasshoppers and traffic all mixed into a melody that formed a hybrid of urban and rural life. On the night of April 2nd, 2020 I was enjoying a night of looking at the stars through my telescope. It was a mainly clear night when I closed my eyes and began listening realized that I could no longer hear the cars on the interstate. Louisiana was in the mist of the a very high spike in COVID and lockdowns were in effect meaning there were fewer cars on the roads especially at night. I sat and listened for hours as I was able to hear all the sounds that were once masked by the intrusion of development on my rural area. From about April 2nd until early July this quite remanded at night. It was not until Louisiana started to open up more that the sound of the cars returned to my nighttime symphony. When I look back on the early days of the pandemic this is the memory that stands out and how it will be remembered by me. Though a harsh time in the world and for humanity, the sounds of technology and modernization were drowned out by nature for a time and it made the nights a little more peaceful and less stressful with all that was going on in the world. -
2021-10-15
The Love of Candles
Before 2020, I hardly ever burned a candle. My parents had forbid it, convinced me or my siblings were going to forget about it and burn the house down. My dorm room had extremely strict (and understandable) rules about open flames and heat sources. It wasn’t until I had graduated college and moved back into and then out of my parents’ house that I was free of these regulations. Even then, though, it never occurred to me to buy candles. My favorite scents were often nature-based and could easily be experienced by visiting the ocean, or the forest, or the occasional bakery. It wasn’t until the pandemic, when I was living in Ohio without being comfortable traveling to the ocean, or to the forest, or in public at all, that I turned to candles. Soon one impulse purchase of a sea salt and balsam scented candle turned into a constant hunt for all of my favorite scents, to bring me to places I didn’t feel safe or responsible traveling to. My collection grew rapidly, and for the past year or so I’ve had a candle lit in my home almost every day. I never thought something a simple as a $7 candle I found at TJ Maxx or Bath & Body Works could bring me so much peace, calming my need to return to my favorite far-off places until it is once again safe to do so. Don’t get me wrong, candles still can’t compare to the real smells I adore, but even a weak imitation is better than a scent-less longing. Even though I’m currently residing in Ohio, I can use candles to feel connected to my home state of California, or my favorite places to visit, bringing comfort and familiarity in a time that is anything but comfort and familiar. My bank account may not be happy with me given this new habit, but it’s a price I am willing to pay. -
2020-06-01
Beautiful Silence in Paradise
Hawaii is a very unique place in terms of its beauty and overall welcoming atmosphere. I grew up knowing how popular of a destination spot my state is and how in many ways we are extremely dependent on outside sources to fuel our small island economies and businesses. I had thought that aspects I had become used to seeing, such as the extremely busy downtown shopping and tourism part of Hilo, would never change. The many common things you'd have smelled seen and heard were the many cars out on the road, the overfilled wastebaskets by every park and beach, the tents of entire families at many of the beaches, and the constant rush of modern living in Hawaii. Then in March through April of 2020, the university in which I was attending at the time made the big decision to cancel in person meetings for the foreseeable future. The days of constant business and crowded areas in a matter of weeks ceased to be. In late April continuing until recently, the most common things you would see empty streets, closed signs, empty parking lots, and most importantly of all, you would actually get to smell the salt of the water from the ocean, the chirping of birds by the dozens in commercial areas, and even the return of sea turtles to what were known to be crowded beaches. It’s as if the lack of tourism and industry during Covid-19 gave us local residents a new perspective of our home. One where it felt like we could finally breathe and stretch out our legs for a bit while we dealt with the pandemic effects. -
2020-11-26
A New Sense of Taste
The memory I related is about the difference in taste and smell before I had covid versus after. It is still altered in some ways and did not return as it was before. I still find it jarring eat something that I used to love only to find that it tastes different and I no longer like it. -
2020-03-21
Gardening During the Apocalypse
I can't think of the beginning of the COVID-19 pandemic, the shut downs and lock-ins, the stay-at-home orders without thinking of my brief foray into gardening. My husband and I bought our house in northwest Baltimore in April 2019. Our little duplex sits near the end of an unbelievably picturesque street in a fairly affluent neighborhood known for its garden communities and HOA-hosted wine and cheese parties you have to pay to attend. The neighborhood is surrounded by much poorer neighborhoods and heavily-trafficked streets, the direct product of red-lining in Old Baltimore. While the Original Northwood neighborhood is much more diverse - demographically and economically - than it was when it was first established in the 1930s and 1940s, my husband and I, as some of the only residents under 40, still felt like we didn't necessarily fit in with our older, more well-to-do neighbors, despite absolutely adoring our little home, which had been lovingly renovated and reimagined by its previous tenants. Come March 2020, however, the noise from the crowded streets, the surrounding neighborhoods, and from our own neighborhood, died down substantially. Our streets and its surrounds have always been a great place to go for a walk, but now every day people were strolling by in ones and twos, sometimes in small family units. Everyone needed to get out of the houses they were now cooped up in, and I was no exception. Much to my mother's chagrin - and likely to my neighbors' embarrassment - I did not inherent my mother's green thumb. Because I am a millennial I found an app that identifies plants and set about rooting out weeds, pruning the flowers the previous tenants had not intended for me to neglect, picking up the endless stream of leaves from our several 100+ year old trees, digging up more weeds and debating with my husband about whether we should start an herb and vegetable garden or put in a patio in the little garden area that connects our front and back yards. I did not become proficient at gardening. I am much better than I was, however, at identifying the truly astonishing diversity of plants in my own garden and in my neighborhood by scent and even touch. I learned that the dried and withered allium stalks pull effortlessly out of the ground after they die, that African violets also give way to a gentle scooping from the earth, and that thistle, of course, will still try to prick you as it attempts to cling to the soil. I learned that those thin but tough shoots of elm and oak born from the seeds and acorns the squirrels missed not only grow rapidly, but are extraordinarily difficult to rip from the earth. And no matter how much seemingly-delicate clover one claws at, its roots will always remain beneath the surface, as virulent in a day or two as when one earlier tore at it in complete dismay of its sheer stubbornness. I did not become proficient at gardening. But I did relish the feeling of cool, damp earth underneath my hands, even in my fingernails, the crunch of dry leaves, the slick sliding of wet leaves, the red, angry weals left on my hands from those stubborn oaks. I felt accomplished as I pulled lovely, but ultimately threatening African violets and wild raspberry from underneath the spreading cover of the hostas, and as I pulled wild mint, lemon, and rosemary for tea and cooking. I told myself I'd use the ramps (a species of wild onion that smells and tastes sort of of like a combination between garlic and scallions) in a soup, as a college roommate of mine had done, but I forgot to harvest them in time. From what I recall, summertime is best, particularly late summertime. The other thing I remember about this time spent in my garden, hands in the dirt, sweat on my brow, bug bites inflaming every available inch of skin, is the new sense of connection I felt with my neighbors who stopped to wave hello, nod and smile at my gardening efforts. Neighbors who I hadn't gotten to know before the pandemic which now prevented us, due to fear of contamination from contact with other people, from truly getting to know each other still. But somehow, the simple act of being out in my garden, doing this simple, repetitive toil, made me feel like I was participating in a ritual, an activity that linked me to the less unsavory past of the community, and to neighbors who otherwise might have remained alien in a plague environment that seemed to bring a new apocalypse with every week. -
2021-10-15
Tense and Tempestuous Tones
In the year 2020, I was a medical assistant working for a cancer surgery clinic. The pandemic posed huge challenges for people working in healthcare and created new staggering standards for cleanliness and infection control. With limited personal protective equipment and cleaning supplies, it made everyday clinic operations very challenging. With cancer patients, most of whom were undergoing treatments that lowered their immune system, and many of whom had just had surgery which can increase risk of infection, medical staff took COVID safety precautions very seriously. Dealing with people battling illness can be challenging under normal circumstances because they are often feeling emotional and scared, but during COVID, tensions were running even higher. I will never forget patients using condescending, edgy, and outright angry tones with me when I would call for a COVID symptom screening prior to their appointment, inform them that they had to wear a mask at all times while in the clinic, or that they were unable to bring a family member to the exam room during a follow-up appointment with a doctor. Over the phone and in person, many patients used tense and tempestuous tones to take out their anger over a situation none of us had any control over. Often, there were political connotations to any discussion of clinic COVID policy, which was unusual in a conversation about infection control. Many patients would protest getting their temperature taken or question the accuracy of their oximetry reading (a started part of vitals even before the pandemic). It was always a relief to have a patient who took a dignified breath and calmly understood that the rules were in place for everyone's safety and were an inconvenience to all involved. There were several days where I would go off to an empty exam room during my lunch break and cry. Tension during the first year of the COVID pandemic was audible. -
2021-10-03
The Scents of a Homecoming
My maternal grandfather passed away late last year amidst a relatively heavy pandemic lockdown, and our family has since tried to fill in for him in caretaking for my grandmother. If he could have asked something of us, I know it would have only been to look after her. He was that kind of man. He didn’t need for anything for time with his family and friends, and his utmost concern was her welfare, even when she angered him. Recurring and cyclic apprehension and uncertainty over transmission rates, long-term vaccine efficacy and inoculated antibody generation have forestalled several attempted return trips to my hometown. Data-driven doubts have eroded my wife’s confidence that our collective vaccinations will protect her aging parents from life-altering illness and death have prevented her from traveling with me, even though she wont readily admit that outside our home. In addition to everything else the pandemic has altered or taken from us, it’s also complicated my family’s efforts to care for each other. My grandmother turned 86 recently, and her birthday was also their anniversary. They would have been married 63 years this month, and we wanted to make sure the day didn’t pass like any other lonely Tuesday since his death. My cousins and I put together a birthday dinner at the best restaurant in town, and I traveled back to New Mexico for a week to visit and help where I could. The trip turned out to inspire a self-reflection on the power of scent in my life, emotions, and memory. *** I drove straight to my grandmother’s home on Blodgett Street. I pushed the front door open, and an unpleasant stink hit my nostrils. Throughout my life, that home had particular smells that transitioned over time. Everyone in my family but the children smoked cigarettes while I was growing up, and it wasn’t unusual for a blue-gray haze to hang in my grandparents’ home during family holidays. It wasn’t uncommon for their 1000 sq. ft. home to sleep ten or fifteen people when we had something to celebrate or grieve. Ashtrays often overflowed if late night poker games grew too intense to step away from the dining table. I recall one Thanksgiving from my early childhood in which heavy cigarette smoke obscured my view of the backdoor while I stood near the front door. Even through those early years, I associated their home with the smell of sweets. Baked goods, chocolate cakes, snickerdoodles, and sugar cereals, although I’m now surprised any of us could smell anything. I never ate Fruity Pebbles anywhere but their house. Word reached my family in the mid 80s that hotboxing the house was bad for everyone’s health, and they began smoking outside. Grandad hated that; he’s the one who paid off the mortgage, so he oughta be able to smoke wherever he damned well pleased. Still, he took it outside for the grandkids. Since they stopped smoking in the house, and especially since they quit smoking fifteen years ago, I associated their home with a particular and pleasant fragrance. I never placed it, and I’ve never smelled it anywhere else. It wasn’t solely the scented wax my grandmother leaves on warming plates for too long, which are almost always homey food scents, like apple pie. The scent of their home welcomed me back to a place I am unconditionally loved, missed, and wanted. My jokes always hit, my cooking never failed, and everyone was always glad to see me. They were also glad to take my lunch money at the poker table, which I imagine might have contributed to my perpetual welcome. As of this trip, that unique aroma is gone, replaced by a light odor of stale animal waste. My grandmother took in a low functioning chihuahua about three years ago, and the dog is slowly and thoroughly ruining all the flooring surfaces in her home. It won’t housebreak, and it’s incapable of turning right. Seriously. The dog might be a reincarnated Nascar driver. It only turns left. When it’s excited, anxious, fearful, doesn’t matter. The only emotional arrow in its quiver is a left turn, and the only dichotomy is the circumference. The dog can run around the whole room or spin in place, but only and always left. Lefty shit on one of my most important and reassuring emotional stimulants. ** I also stayed with my parents, who live across town, and we share a love of food, especially comfort food best consumed with big spoons or served in casserole dishes. Because we’re New Mexicans, that means a heavy dose of Hatch green chili goes in everything produced in our kitchens. Throughout the week, my folks made all the staples for fall: red beef enchiladas, fire roasted salsa, smoked burgers, and green chili chicken stew. While I associated backed goods and sweets with my grandparents’ home, I’ve always associated the aroma of meals with my parents, and especially the foods that take a day or two to get just right in a crock or stockpot. Bubbling green chili anything reminds me of the best parts of my childhood, and I have no unfond memories or emotions associated with it. I never caught a beating over the dinner table, never fought over a kettle of green chili. Comfort foods have historically made all the hurt and misery of the outside world go away. That’s their magic, isn’t it? No matter what the day and the world brought to your doorstep, the right foods and aromas improved everything they touched. ** As such, the consistent and predictable wonderfulness of my parents’ home helped buttress my emotions and the loss of the Blodgett Street Scent. The disappearance of that emotional, olfactory experience altered my perception of the trip. I regarded its replacement as a bellwether of things to come, a foreshadowing of my grandmother’s seemingly imminent decline into managed in-home care. My concerns over what the light stink meant conspired with her increased hearing loss, the occasional repeated story, and the often-repeated questions to erode my confidence in her long-term stability. Although she’s now 86, she remains independent and self-sufficient. There’s nothing she can’t accomplish on her own with enough time and naps between exertion. I think I’ve taken that for granted, though, and I should begin managing my expectations. Thanks to a left-leaning chihuahua, I have to confront my grandmother’s increasing fragility and forthcoming dependence. I regret having never attempted to define its source ingredients, although I doubt I could recreate it at any other time or place. In the meantime, I need to get her out of the house long enough to have the flooring scrubbed and sanitized. If you’re in the market for a left-loving fecal factory, please inquire within. -
2020-03-16
From Unheard of to Unheard
This excerpt outlines how the start of the pandemic affected the noise level of an undergraduate college campus. -
2020-03-29
Eau de Sanitizer: A Home Fragrance
The early days of quarantine were quiet and calm, as the streets around my home in Southern California were filled with silence since there were fewer cars and people roaming outdoors. Sanitizer and rubbing alcohol were in high demand, and in heavy rotation in our home, as everything that came in was wiped, sprayed, and cleaned before being put away. I remember coming home from the store and wiping down every item with alcohol and sanitizer, and I remember wiping down every counter, surface, and phone. Afterwards, the house was filled with the sharp and dismal aroma of rubbing alcohol, as the fragrance mimicked a well-diffused scented candle. The distinctive scent wafted throughout the living room and lingered within the walls, the drapes, and the furniture. It became the scent of March 2020, and a home fragrance which lacked the expected or traditional calming or soothing properties of a candle or diffuser that is placed in a room. Every outing resulted in rubbing alcohol-infused surroundings, which served as a constant reminder of the changing climate. Eau de Sanitizer recalled the uneasiness, fear, and chaotic shops of the early pandemic, as it was a fragrant reminder of the unknown. The memory of that spring is tied to the scent of rubbing alcohol, and now every time I light a candle in my living room I am reminded of those early days. -
2020-09-09
The smells of the campus silenced
The vibrant community around San Francisco State was the main factor why I decided to move into Park Merced. The ability to walk to campus each day or ride my bike with other students was exciting to see riding skateboards or bikes while smelling coffee or energy drinks was common. The smell on campus with the wide variety of food and snacks was common to every part of the campus early or late. However, this all changed once Covid was originally announced and students and staff started leaving the campus and area and the sights and sounds of people and food on the campus were silent. The campus now remained silent and the smells of burritos and coffee were gone along with students walking to campus. The residents who used to sit outside and occasionally sat outside reading papers disappeared. The air while cleaner breathing because of the lack of air was soon polluted by the fires in California leaving a red mist that made the air smell like burnt wood. The pandemic changed so many people's lives and it is important to recognize the impact mentally and physically people have suffered. The pandemic silenced the campus and the community silencing the site and sounds while removing the smells that the campus was known for. -
2020-03-12
The Disinfectant Spray
As a high school history educator, Thursday, March 12, 2020, stands out in my mind as a significant date as it was the final day of in-person instruction before our district decided to close the school until Spring Break as a result of the spread of COVID-19. There was nervous energy radiating from my students and colleagues. The fear of the unknown was palpable. I remember changing my current events lesson mid-day as the activity I had planned, monopolized by the growing health crisis, brought me too much anxiety. By that point in March, there were portable hand washing stations located at various points on campus, students more readily pumped the wall-mounted Purell hand sanitizer container on their way into my classroom, and the school sites passed out a collection of cleaning supplies to the teachers. I used the school-provided disinfectant spray to help keep the classroom clean. The smell still serves as a visceral call back to that March day. Between each class, I dutifully sprayed the disinfectant on each desk, wiping it clean for the next student. The nose-scrunching sting of the alcohol-based cleaner filled my room rather than the calming vanilla room spray, amplifying the seriousness of the situation unfolding beyond my classroom walls. The smell lingered in my nostrils as I told my students that I would see them the following Tuesday, not knowing that those sophomores would not step foot in my classroom again before they were seniors in high school. The scent swirled around me as I packed up my belongings at the end of the day and debated how much I should bring home with me. The smell still enveloped the classroom as I unknowingly shut my door for the rest of the 2019-2020 school year and left campus. There have been many iterations of the smell of alcohol-based cleaning wipes and hand sanitizers throughout the pandemic as we anxiously try to keep ourselves healthy. The obsessive use of disinfectants reveals the desperation we feel to combat an invisible foe. However, the school-provided disinfectant still has the distinct ability to conjure memories of that emotional day in March when we were on the precipice of change. -
2020-02-02
Sounds and Scents of a Maine Island
In February 2020, I moved to Vinalhaven, an island off the coast of Maine, for a job that promised to advance my career and provide time for personal introspection and growth. The island community was vibrant, and as a newcomer, I was invited to dinner parties, game nights, and book club meetings – I hardly had time to miss the family and friends I left behind in Colorado. Three weeks later, the COVID-19 pandemic required me to exchange my introduction to the community for long solitary hours. Handshakes and warm hugs from new acquaintances were replaced by cold winter days and a lack of human contact. The seclusion drove me to explore the island’s shoreline and conservation trails and intermingle with nature that was unimpeded by humans who had retreated behind the walls of their homes. Without the distraction of a companion, I noticed the wind rushing through trees, saltwater crashing against the rocks at the ocean’s edge, bald eagles screeching, chickadees singing, and small animals scurrying through tall natural grasses near the basin. I sat so still one morning that a curious, gray mink approached me and stared for a few seconds. One November evening, while I walked along the rocky shoreline at State Beach, an estrous scent from a whitetail doe in heat wafted from the nearby woods. While the pungent odor attracted bucks, the smell assaulted my nose and distracted me from the fresh scents of saltwater, pine, and balsam. The overpowering smell suggested that the doe was close; her presence comforted me in my isolation. I expected to integrate into my new island home through people. Instead, I became grounded in the environment, surrounded by the sounds and scents that I may have otherwise missed. -
2020-04-07
Rediscovering the tastes of my childhood
Some of my earliest memories are of the sights, sounds, and tastes of my grandmother’s kitchen. She passed away almost exactly one year before the stay-at-home order was put in place in Washington State. At that time, I was already an online student working from home and my partner was driving across the state every weekend to work and come back home. When lockdown started, I didn’t realize how cooped up I would feel. I decided I needed to revisit the feelings of my grandmother’s kitchen. Around the same time, my family got a trailer full of boxes of my grandmother’s things. In this box was a handwritten cookbook filled with the recipes and stories from my childhood. There were handwritten letters from my great-grandfather to my grandmother, recipes she had clipped out of newspapers in the 1970s and 1980s, and family recipes I thought were lost when she passed. One of which was a Spiced tea, also known as friendship tea, recipe. For me, this tea is the epitome of Christmas time spent with my grandma. This recipe exists on the internet, but it was never as good as the one my grandmother made. When I found these recipes, I set out on cooking my way through them to pass my time during lockdown. My partner was working remotely so he was home to try them with me. It was an emotional experience for me after the loss of my grandmother and it reminded me how much food can bring people together. This recipe no longer represents Christmas and my grandmother, it now is something that makes me think of lockdown with my own family and how it brought us together. If it wasn’t for the stay-at-home order, I probably wouldn’t have connected to these recipes again and I definitely would never have had to buy tang. The pandemic has brought a greater connection to history and sensory history. The pandemic has also changed the way we experience our senses and even changed those senses for some people. Sensory history shows how people experienced the world around them during the pandemic. If you try this recipe, don’t be afraid of adding more or less of what you like. I don’t know what measurement a scoop is, but as my grandmother always told me, we don’t measure to be perfect we measure with our hearts. My best guess is that there are about 2 tablespoons in a “scoop”. Ginther’s Spice Tea 1 ½ cup Tang 6 scoops lemonade ½ cup instant tea ½ cup sugar ½ teaspoon cloves (or fresh whole cloves) 1 tablespoon cinnamon (or fresh sticks) Combine the above ingredients. Add 2 Tablespoons of mix per cup of hot water. -
2021-10-04
Ashley Pierce Oral History, 2021/10/04
A quick comment about Law Enforcement during the pandemic. -
2021-10-04
Kidding... Just Kidding...
Hunting around the internet for pandemic memes and came across this one. For some, this is the first time they have had to spend an extended amount of time at home all day every day with family and the struggle is real... so very real! -
2021-10-04
Not what was Expected...
I found this while searching online for pandemic memes and it gave me a chuckle! -
2021-08-21
Mask trash outside the CDL
Wednesday, August 18 was the eve of the first day of classes at Arizona State University. It was also the first week that the Child Development Lab (CDL) was open for daycare on campus. I picked my son up around 5:00 PM and took this picture of mask trash, likely unintentionally dropped by one of the parents outside the center. This image is part of the mask trash series. -
2021-08-10
Facebook conversations
I came across this conversation on Facebook yesterday. I thought it was a good portrayal of what's going on in society today. As everyone is trying to get back to "normal" businesses are starting to require their employees to get vaccinated. Although most people who are fighting this option hardly ever admit that there are actually three options - get vaccinated, get tested regularly, or find a new job. I found it interesting that the original poster revised his original post to add that he was not looking to debate the vaccine even though it's clear what happened. -
2021-08-10
Mask Required for Service
Signs have become so common these days that I often catch myself making sure if a business requires masks or prefers customers not to (I've seen those too). I take an extra moment to enjoy personalized signs like these. I love the solutions to the dumb questions at the end. If everyone would just wear a mask I wonder how low our numbers would be. My favorite part is the last sentence of the paragraph "Do not choose to be the reason the rest of the world is laughing at us." -
2021-08-11
First day of school
While many on my social media feed are in arms about tighter vaccine regulations, some realize that the pandemic is not over. As the new school year starts there are many mothers who share in my fear. Covid is still alive and well, new strains continue to form breeding in the bodies of the unvaccinated. The worse part is that this time the elderly seem much safer than our children. Our children are being sent back to school, life has returned to "normal" as the number of hospitalized children continues to rise. I share my fears with this friend who popped up on my feed this morning. Will our kids be safe? Will my daughter get infected? Will there be another lockdown? I too feel like it's become too much to ask for my kids to simply be happy and healthy because both now depend on the actions (or misactions) of others. -
2021-08-11
If it isn't one thing its another
I have never realized how different my friends on social media are. Growing up in Los Angeles I have many friends who are all politically and socially like-minded. My husband joined the military and then my social media was flooded with the opposite from my "liberal" friends. The differences of opinions never bothered me and hardly ever showed themselves until Trump became president. It's funny how Trump ignited a flame in so many people. Today with politics fueling everything I still see that clear distinction between my friend groups. The saddest part about the pandemic is seeing how science has been "canceled" and political views have somehow replaced common sense. Because so many Democrats are urging people to get vaccinated it seems like Republicans must refuse. I see posts like the one pictured all the time. There's always a reason to refuse common sense. First, it was because COVID wasn't real, then it was because their right to contract covid was being infringed on. I heard some say robots were being implanted, that the government was running experiments on willing democrats. When the death rate continued to rise, they said the numbers were made up. Today it seems like most covid deniers are claiming that if COVID was real essential workers would not be required to be protected against it. I will never understand their reasoning. -
2021-08-08
Cooking with Canned and Frozen Foods
The file that I have included is a description of how My wife and I were essentially forced to resort mostly on canned and frozen foods for our meals rather than using fresh ingredients. -
2021
Home Brewing Beer During The COVID-19 Pandemic
I think my story in the attached document details how someone coped with the monotony of restricted activities from COVID-19, as well as the shutdown of social drinking. -
2020-04-14
Sweetness At Home During the 2020 Covid Pandemic
I had just quit my job on February 28, 2020 since my military spouse and I were about to PCS (Permanent Change of Station) from Camp Lejeune, North Carolina, to New Orleans, Louisiana in late March. Mid-March the DOD issued a Stop Movement order for all troops so we ended up not moving until it was lifted on July 1. During the wait, we were in limbo not knowing what would happen with our moving situation, but fortunately we still had our house and stuff. My spouse picked up Covid on our house-hunting trip to New Orleans the first week of March before the Stop Movement was issued, but was never diagnosed since there were not enough tests to go around in North Carolina. For about two months we stayed home together, enjoyed each other's company, and made the best of it. I spent a lot more time in the kitchen than was previously normal, and loved every minute of it. Two years previously, my spouse gave me an ice cream maker for Christmas, but I never took it out of the box and it ended up in one of my difficult-to-reach upper cabinets. When I was organizing my pantry and kitchen cabinets one day to prepare for the time we would actually get to pack up and move, I spied it and thought I would finally give it a try. I have wonderful childhood memories of sitting around with my family and grandparents outdoors while the homemade ice cream my mom and grandmother made, churned in the electric ice cream maker on a hot summers day. I called my mom for her recipe and found a similar one online to reference (published by the Taste of Home test kitchen). The military commissary was out of a lot of groceries, so I made an online order at Sams since they had still had milk and heavy cream, and picked it up. I already had plenty of sugar and vanilla in my pantry. Before Covid, I rarely had time (because of work and school) to make desserts, so this dish was a real treat, a simple recipe, and was super fun to make. The taste of homemade ice cream was so lovely and smooth, with texture velvety, eating it right from the churn. It brought back all the wonderful memories eating homemade ice cream with my family as a childhood, to comfort me during a time I could not travel to see them. Food memories like this can transport one to a time when the world was full of closeness with one's family, when forced to separate due to a world-wide pandemic. -
2021-08-08
Green Tomato Pickles
Due to school closures because of COVID-19 in the spring of 2020, I finally had time to start a vegetable garden. This was something that I had wanted to do for years, but by the time I was out of school in June and had the time, it was too late in the season to begin. As a side note, the fact that school buildings were closed in no way means we teachers were not working hard to try to continue the education process for our students. The pandemic did change how we taught, though, giving me more time to finally begin my vegetable garden. This story is specifically about my tomato plants and the green tomato pickles I made from them. I originally began my tomato plants from seeds on my kitchen windowsill in April. In mid-May, when they were about 8 inches tall, I transplanted them to a raised garden bed. This was my first experience growing a garden, so I overdid it with the number of vegetables I attempted to grow in my 4’ x 4’ space. Besides the tomatoes, I planted green beans, carrots, onions, beets, squash, zucchini, and cucumbers. The tomatoes and squash took over and that was all I got. For some unknown reason, the first set of blossoms on the tomato plants didn’t produce any fruit. Late in the summer, I finally started to see some fruit, and it was early September before I was able to harvest any. At that point, though, they exploded with fruit. I live in the high desert north of Los Angeles and our weather is not quite as mild as the rest of LA County. We go our first freeze in mid-October. At that point I harvested about 5 lbs. of green tomatoes. A friend of mine had the same issue and decided to make green tomato salsa. I decided to make green tomato pickles. I used a combination of recipes. I have a Little House on the Prairie Cookbook that I experiment with from time to time, but I modified some of the spices that recipe called for because I wanted dill pickles. So, I played around with it until I had what I wanted. They were excellent! Then I did one more thing that I had never done before. I experimented with hot water bath canning so that I could preserve them longer. I ended up with eight jars of green tomato dill pickles, some of which made their way into Christmas gift baskets for friends and family. All of this was because I had more time on my hands due to COVID-19 and California’s Stay at Home order. -
2020-03
Baking: Impossible
Back in December of 2019, my wife and I were visiting my parents and grandparents in Mesa, Arizona. It was Christmas time, so we were enjoying a bit of leisure time that we typically didn't have. I had just graduated from Brigham Young University-Idaho with a degree in History Education, and my wife just finished a rigorous semester in her study of English at the same school. We were ready for a break. Before meeting up with the family, my grandmother brought up the idea to teach my wife and I how to make homemade bread. It was her grandmothers recipe, and I loved it, as she would occasionally make the dough to make scones or kraut biscuits. This particular recipe made a lot of dough and needed to rise three times. Because of this, making bread was an all day event. Just a few short months after learning to make bread in my grandmother's kitchen, COVID-19 shut down the world. We were living in Rexburg, Idaho at the time-a small town of around 28,000 people located in south-east Idaho. Given that we were in a rural location, we didn't feel the immediate effects of the virus like Seattle, New York City, and Los Angeles. However, around early March, schools shut down and we were told to stay indoors whenever possible. Given that I was a teacher, I was suddenly learning how to run applications like Google Classroom to teach from home. The school district wasn't sure how long I would be working from home for. Initially, they only wanted to close for two weeks to deep clean the school. However, this ended up lasting through the end of the school year. My wife was now also at home. Her studies switched from in-person courses to online courses. Professors who had spent their life in the classroom were suddenly figuring out how to teach via a new medium. It was challenging for all, but everyone seemed to be more patient with each other. Given that my wife and I were home, and given that we had more time, we decided that we would make the bread recipe that my grandmother had taught us over Christmas break. Everyone was encouraged to only shop when absolutely necessary, so we added the flour and yeast to our shopping list. However, when we went shopping only a few days later, the baking isle had been decimated. The only types of flour that were left were expensive bags of specialty flour that came in much smaller portions. Yeast was nowhere to be found. Even things like baking soda were gone. When I think back to the early days of the pandemic, I think of panic. While my wife and I were able to remain calm, many people worried they would not be able to find basic necessities. Grocery stores ran short on many items-toilet paper, canned food, flour, sugar, paper towels, cleaning supplies, amongst other things. Many things that were taken for granted were now an uncertainty. So while we did have more time on our hands, baking bread wasn't an option. -
2020-03-14
One Last Family Gathering
The world changed as we Alabamians knew it on Friday, March 13th, 2020, as that was the last day that our school systems remained physically open before our governor mandated forced early system closures ahead of the approaching COVID pandemic. As a high school teacher, I uneasily said goodbye to my students and promised to see them on ZOOM the following Monday. When I arrived home, I found that my wife had contacted each of her family members to invite them to a seafood feast planned in our home for the next day, Saturday the 14th. We had recently purchased a tremendous variety and quantity of seafood for a planned early summer river gathering, including shrimp, crawfish, and fish; however, the pandemic was likely not going to allow for such a future gathering, and we knew of no way in which we could consume so much seafood ourselves, and were equally incognizant when we might gather as a family again, so this was essentially planned as a “McRight family last supper” (pardon the blasphemy, but that’s how we coined it). We had prepared each of the dishes before, save for Tamsie’s new experiment, her crawfish cheesecake. We had enjoyed crawfish and shrimp cheesecake at a wonderful restaurant, Roux 66, while traveling through Natchez, Mississippi several months previous; that culinary experience informed our desire to recreate the recipe at home! Thus, our sensory memory of better times and a delicious meal beckoned us to return to that sensory experience and give the recipe a try. We researched online recipes to combine basic ingredients, including shrimp, crawfish, cream cheese, onions, eggs, and bell peppers, with two cheeses, minced garlic, Creole seasoning, salt and pepper, heavy cream, and a shrimp boil mix. The cheesecake was delicious, and the combination of garlic, crawfish, and shrimp contrasted with the sweet richness of the cream and eggs to make for a delightful dish. To this day, the smell of shrimp makes me think of those early days of the pandemic because our kitchen was filled with the aroma of that decadent crawfish cheesecake, shrimp scampi, a shrimp boil, fried fish, boiled shrimp, and fried shrimp. We hosted approximately twenty-five family members, we laughed, we talked about the future, and we expressed concern over what the coming days might bring. Afterward, we dismissed pandemic talk to release our concerns for the shank of the evening, as we were living for the moment and celebrating our being together. I remember thinking but it might be a long time before we could get fresh seafood again, because we did not know if the opportunity to find fresh seafood would avail itself again in the near future, nor did we know if grocery stores would remain open. That was a time of complete uncertainty. I will likely never again enjoy a shrimp meal without thinking about March 14th, 2020, as the world in which we had lived mere days before somehow now seemed different, foreign, and unsettling. -
2021-06-02
COVID 19: An Influence for Positivity
The text document describes how COVID gave me an opportunity to reinvent myself. The live recreation of a famous meme is an example of how I tapped into my creativity, living a more fulfilling life -
2020-08-03
U.S. History Classroom 2020
When I came home from my last deployment in December 2019, I began to look for teaching jobs- I was for the first time preparing for the teaching job market. Suddenly, when Covid-19 hit the streets, most business and shops closed their doors and were only open for carry-out. In May 2020, I was worried because most school corporations announced that they would presume classes virtually or through a mix of hybrid days that would consists of both synchronous and asynchronous learning for the first portion of the school year. I thought that this would be a learning curve for me if I ended up getting a position. By August 2020, I got a position as an 11th-grade high school teacher in my hometown. Before the bell rang on 03 August 2020, I put the rubber gloves on that the school’s office gave me and sprayed each desk down with bleach. The tight latex gloves did not fit my hand properly but worked for its purpose. The disinfectant left an aroma in the air, similar to a hospital. Brinnnnng, the bell sounded, and the students began marching into the building as I watched them from my window. My forehead began to bead up with sweet (I was nervous for my first day). Then, I put on my mask and stood outside my door. As I waited at the door, I remembered the old days when I was a student at that same school, I was now a teacher. Back then, the hallways were filled with my peers, there were lots of hugging and other high schoolers interaction going on. Everywhere I turned, my peers were smiling and excited to share summer stories. In a blink of eyes, when I looked at the hallways, my peers were no longer there. Neither was the high schooler me. Now, I look through the hallways and it is filled with faceless students. The unnatural phenomena brought forth by Covid-19. The wearing of a mask in the U.S. society is unnatural. The students tried to stay six feet away and tried not make physical contact with anyone. The masks covered their faces, and many wore gloves to open their lockers. As I greeted my students entering my class first period, they seemed happy to be in school in-person since all surrounding corporations had announced they would have online instruction. As they seated, they soon realized that each desk was coated in residues from the cleaning products. I then went to the front of my class and tried to write my name on the board. The marker streaked the board. The cleaning products from wiping each room down from the cleaning staff had left a clear coating that made it impossible to write on. This was a common theme for each class that entered my room. By the end of the day, the room was filled with body and cleaning supplies odors. The coating on the board ruined my marker. My hands shriveled from the gloves, and my ears were red and irritated from the mask. I thought to myself, “this is the new norm now. I must get used to it, so students do not feel overwhelmed.” I chose this story because I felt that this was a challenging year for all first-year teachers. I wanted to bring insight on how difficult it was to try and keep calm and push students to strive to their potential without making students have the extra worry of Covid. This story shows how Covid affected not only adults but everyone in our society. -
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. -
2020-08-17
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. -
2021-01-06
When lungs fail
I wish I had a sound of the oxygen concentrator my mom was on for a full month, but at the same time I'm glad that I don't. After spending 8 days in the ICU due to COVID, my mom was finally sent home only because the hospitals were full in the Fort Worth area, and there were other people much more sick than her. In a normal year, she would have been in there at least another week or two, but they got her a concentrator and sent her home to be taken care of by my Dad, sister, and me. The sound the small motor made, producing the oxygen my mom's lungs weren't capable of getting. The high-pitched beeps that sounded when the battery was low, or if the cannula in her nose wasn't properly placed on her face--all of it is probably permanently etched in my memory. The sound that I've submitted here is an excerpt of what a nebulizer sounds like when it's turned on. In addition to the sound of the oxygen concentrator, we'd hear this sound at least twice daily as my mom inhaled her lung medications with the nebulizer, accompanied by a lot of coughing as she recovered fully. I'm grateful that she recovered and is still doing well, but I don't think I'll ever be able to hear a sound like this without remembering what the month of January was like this year for our family. -
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. -
2021-04-21
James Rayroux's JOTPY Portfolio
--Reflections on the Pandemic Archive-- Looking back over my experience with the “Journal of the Plague Year” COVID-19 archive, my prevailing emotion is gratitude. This opportunity granted me experience that few historians earn, and the remote, asynchronous work schedule allowed me to collaborate with my colleagues in ways that maximized our respective contributions. The breadth and depth of our individual experiences and perspectives tremendously improved our collective process and products. I spent enough time in the Arizona State Archives last year to recognize such collections as historical treasure chests, but I have now participated in processing an archive’s content and navigating the ethical dilemmas those submissions sometimes create. Archivists and curators are the history profession’s truly unsung heroes, and their work facilitates society’s perception of itself. My background in police work and public safety drew me to the archive’s existing Law Enforcement collection. In taking on that subset, I succeeded in reshaping the collection’s parameters to now include stories about police and law enforcement. I wanted to diversify the collection to encompass perspective of both the police and the public with whom they interact and serve. While some overlap exists between the Law Enforcement and Social Justice collections, each remains distinct. Through my contacts and writing, I promoted a Call for Submissions to an international audience of law enforcement professionals to reduce their relative silence within the archive. Within the archive’s content, I recognized that one’s location might shape their pandemic experience, and I created and designed an Arizona-based exhibit to explore that. Further research and discussion with my mentors and colleagues ensured the exhibit illustrated these differences without excluding visitors whose diverse experiences could further enrich the archived and exhibited content. I am proud of my “Arizona’s COVID-19 Pandemics” exhibit, particularly because of its compressed, one-month incubation period. Beyond displaying images, data, and stories representative of the diverse pandemic experiences within the state, the ACP exhibit offers visitors numerous levels of interaction and engagement to became active participants and create their own exhibit experience. Visitors can complete opinion surveys, add a story to the archive, explore additional content related to the displayed pieces, view ever-changing results from pre-defined archival content searches, conduct their own archival search, view collective visitor survey results, and apply to join the staff. The exhibit’s searches will include the archive’s future submissions, which reshapes both the exhibit and the experience visitors may have with it. A more detailed explanation of my ACP exhibit may be reviewed here: https://covid-19archive.org/s/archive/item/43037 Because of Dr. Kathleen Kole de Peralta and Dr. Mark Tebeau, I stand prepared to join research, curation, and exhibition teams and immediately contribute to their work products. Despite my gratitude for this experience and the opportunities it presented, I look forward to the day COVID-19 is no longer part of humanity’s daily vernacular. James Rayroux 22 April 2021 -
2021-04-20
JOTPY Exhibit: "Arizona's COVID-19 Pandemics" by James Rayroux
While working as a curatorial intern on ASU's 'A Journal of the Plague Year' COVID-19 archive, I created this exhibit on the pandemic experience within the state. In addition to obvious, overarching realities such as socioeconomic status and immediate access to healthcare systems, I initially believed one of the greatest deciding factors that determined one's experience in Arizona was an individual's residence in either predominantly urban or rural environments. The proposed exhibit had been originally titled "A Tale of Two Arizonas" to pay respect to Charles Dickens and the differing realities experienced here. To test my proposed hypothesis, I went about finding data, stories, and submissions that substantiated or disputed my premise. Within a short time, I had identified four distinct environmental drivers of personal pandemic experiences; to me, that indicated the existence of many more I hadn't yet found or had overlooked along the way. My evidence suggested a minimum of four pandemic locales: Urban, Rural, Border, and Tribal within the State of Arizona and its fifteen counties. The recorded health data and personal experiences demonstrated the naivete of my initial hypothesis, and I retitled the exhibit: "Arizona's COVID-19 Pandemics." The Exhibit Background section illustrates the vast dichotomies within Arizona in terms of population density and access to healthcare facilities. Given the virus's respiratory nature, these factors seemed especially relevant to driving diverse local experiences. I chose to include a flyer from the Coconino County Health and Human Services' "Face It! Masks Save Lives" campaign. The flyer included a specific line to "Stay Home When Sick" that seemed to illustrate a different public health paradigm than the broader "stay home" orders from Maricopa and Pima county. This section also features an image of Sedona's red rocks and a portion of The Wave to remind visitors of the wide-open rural areas accessible to all, as well as those with cultural significance to the Native American tribes and limited access to the general public. The next section asks a short, five-question survey in which visitors may participate. The Silver Linings piece features a short audio clip of a father and husband discussing some unexpected benefits of the pandemic. Visitors may explore additional Silver Linings stories and submit their own experience. The Tséhootsooí Medical Center piece seeks to illustrate the different pandemic experience on the state's tribal lands. I hoped to inspire some relevant emotional turmoil for the visitors through the piece's visual presentation. I wanted to create a series of waves with quotes from the medical center's healthcare workers. I hoped visitors' attention would be drawn to the large, bolded key words, and that they would first experience the segments out of sequence because of that. After potentially feeling a sense of chaos, they might settle themselves into a deliberate reading of the texts and find their own order within the experiences provided here. This piece allows further exploration of Native submissions and topics, a review of an additional related news article, and a submission prompt that invites visitors to offer guidance to hospital managers. The next piece illustrates the differences between mask mandates in communities across Arizona. In addition to hearing an audio clip of interviews with mayors and a public health official, visitors can explore additional submissions related to mask mandates and submit their thoughts on statewide mandates. The Arizona Department of Health Services provides zip-code specific infection data on its website, and the wide array of known case infections therein further illustrates potential dichotomies across the state. In working to include and represent this data in a consumable way, I encountered inconsistencies with tribal data. The nation's Indian tribes are overseen by Indian Health Services, a federal public health agency, and it does not collect or report data in the same manner as the State of Arizona or its counties. At first glance, the data would seem to suggest that tribal areas had less severe pandemic experiences than the rural and urban areas, which was not objectively true. I wanted to offer the unedited data to visitors, allow them to drawn their own conclusions, and invite them to offer their thoughts on what potential misunderstandings might emanate from these reporting differences. Visitors may also choose to review the foundational data from this piece, as well. I used the following two sections to offer submission prompts about the visitor's overall pandemic experience as a function of their location, as well as what they might have done if placed in charge of their city, county, or state during this pandemic. A diverse Search section allows visitors to explore additional topics of interest to them. 23 hyperlinks offer pre-defined search parameters. An Advanced Search link allows self-defined research, and a Join The Staff link connects visitors with opportunities to work within the JOTPY archive. A final section asks visitors to provide feedback on the exhibit, its content, and the pandemic in general. Both surveys within the exhibit will display overall results to visitors who participate in them. Through this process, I found incredible amounts and diversity of data outside the archive that spoke to these generally localized experiences, but not that much yet within the archive explained what Arizonans had experienced outside the state's urban environments. I created a call for submissions and delivered it to fifty rural entities that might help support the effort to collect and preserve more rural Arizona stories. Between all the local libraries, historical societies, museums, small-town mayors, and county health officials to whom I asked for help, I am optimistic the archive will better represent all Arizonans in the coming months and years. Despite the exhibit having been created, I ensured its internal search features would include future submissions and allow the exhibit to remain relevant long after its release. -
2021
ASU COVID Resources
This is the Arizona State University-specific COVID-19 resources for students. I wanted to include this University's specific resources because one of the people I interviewed attends ASU as a student and I want to provide this source as a supplement for some of the difficulty that he mentioned having in finding resources while living as a person experiencing housing instability. The website houses all messages and updates the university has sent to students with regard to the Coronavirus. The site focuses on health and staying healthy for students but seems to lack a clear guide on how to access resources and aid that students may qualify for. -
2021-04-01
News Article: ASU watching new COVID-19 'Arizona variant' with a mutation known to weaken vaccines
By Amanda Morris of the Arizona Republic: Arizona State University researchers have found a home-grown variant of the coronavirus emerging in Arizona that they say should be monitored closely because it carries a mutation known for weakening vaccines. In a non-peer reviewed study that published Sunday, researchers said they have detected 17 cases of the new variant since February, 15 of which were in Arizona. The other two cases were found in Houston in late February and New Mexico in early March, suggesting that the variant has begun to spread. "My hope is that we do not see more of these cases. The whole point of surveillance is to keep this from spreading," said Dr. Efrem Lim, an ASU virologist and assistant professor. The variant is known as the B.1.243.1 variant, and descends from a common lineage of the virus called B.1.243, which nationally makes up about 2.5% of all cases, according to David Engelthaler, director of the Translational Genomics Research Institute's infectious disease division in Flagstaff. "It's not dominant. But, there's a fair amount of that lineage that has been able to hang around," Engelthaler said. "It seems to have picked up this E484K mutation, what we call the 'eek!'" This E484K mutation has also been seen in the variants first detected in South Africa and Brazil, as well as one new variant recently discovered in New York. Numerous studies have shown that this mutation — located in the spike of the virus — lowers antibody responses to the virus and could weaken vaccines. Antibodies are one of the body's tool to recognize and fight the virus. The E484K mutation has been shown to weaken antibody responses. One study from Seattle showed that it caused the neutralizing effects of antibodies to decrease by tenfold, and numerous other studies have shown similar results. American vaccine development company Novavax reported that its COVID-19 vaccine was 96.4% effective against the original coronavirus strain and 86.3% effective against the U.K. variant, but was far less effective in South Africa, where the South Africa variant carrying this mutation is dominant. In the South Africa trials, the vaccine was shown to be 48.6% effective overall, and 55.4% effective in HIV-negative individuals. Moderna announced a sixfold reduction in antibody responses from its vaccine against the South Africa variant, and Pfizer observed a drop in vaccine-induced antibody responses against the South Africa variant. The Johnson & Johnson vaccine is reported to be 64% effective against moderate to severe COVID-19 in trials in South Africa vs. 72% effective in U.S. trials. Though the E484K mutation appears to reduce antibody response and possibly reduce vaccine efficacy, Lim stressed that vaccines still work well and said people should get their vaccines as planned. Scientists are monitoring mutations in the spike of the novel coronavirus. Community spread is a concern Though the new Arizona variant carries this mutation, it's still possible for the variant to fizzle out and stop spreading. Lim said researchers have found two other cases where viruses within the B.1.243 lineage independently picked up the E484K mutation, but did not spread. "In both cases, they never led to more transmissions," Lim said. Engelthaler has also tracked other lineages where the E484K mutation showed up, but those strains fizzled out. Overall, researchers have detected over 60 samples containing the E484K mutation statewide, according to TGen's Arizona COVID-19 sequencing dashboard. In order to continue spread, Engelthaler said variants need to be very "fit." "This mutation has popped up on multiple instances and then just goes away," he said. "This one mutation by itself doesn't give the virus superpowers." "It’s definitely a mutation of concern but time will tell if it will be a variant of concern," he added. If the mutation shows up in a more fit version of the virus, then Engelthaler said it becomes more of a concern. The new variant in Arizona is different than past cases because it has already spread from one person to another and could spread further, according to Lim. He said "one-off" mutations here and there are normal, but that the bigger question is about the transmission levels of this variant. A variant's ability to spread to others is also dependent on human behavior, Lim said. If people follow public health guidelines, they are less likely to spread variants to others. In total, Lim said the new Arizona variant has 11 mutations, which is "quite a bit more" than normal virus variations. These 11 mutations could be helping the virus survive or spread and could also act as a "fingerprint" to help researchers identify the new variant, Lim said. Another one of the 11 mutations is located in the spike that the virus uses to attach to and infect cells. Engelthaler said that because of the importance of the spike, any mutations in that area could affect things like how fast the virus spreads or how severe the related illness is. Both Lim and Engelthaler said it's too soon to tell whether the other mutations in this variant have any effect. Overall, this variant still seems to account for a very low percentage of overall cases in the state, according to Dr. Joshua LaBaer, the executive director of ASU's Biodesign Institute. ASU researchers wrote that it's still possible there are more undetected cases of the variant since there are limited efforts to genetically monitor the virus nationwide. In Arizona, roughly 1.3% of cases overall have been genetically sequenced, or analyzed, according to TGen's Arizona COVID-19 sequencing dashboard. In February and March, over 3% of cases were sequenced, higher than national rates of sequencing, which were below 1% in January. ASU is working with the Arizona Department of Health Services to monitor the new variant and hopefully prevent further spread through contact tracing and other public health measures, Lim said. California and UK variant cases rise Currently the Arizona variant is only considered a "variant of interest" and not a "variant of concern." These are different categories outlined by the CDC and used to assess the risk level of each variant. The CDC defines "variants of interest" as those that are associated with potential changes, whereas "variants of concern" have evidence showing actual changes such as increased transmission, more severe disease or antibody evasion. There are five variants of concern, which include variants first identified in the United Kingdom, South Africa, Brazil and California. Two variants from California were elevated from variant of interest to variant of concern this month and have rapidly spread in Arizona. "They're closely related to each other and have definitely been documented with increased transmissibility and some impact on some antibody treatment," Engelthaler said. In November 2020, both the California variants accounted for only 0.73% of Arizona's genetically sequenced samples. By March, they accounted for 31.64% of samples and are predominant variants statewide. One non-peer reviewed study from the University of California San Francisco showed weaker antibody responses against the California variants. Because of concerns that monoclonal antibody treatments may be less effective against these two variants, the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services announced two weeks ago that it would limit the distribution of one treatment to states with high levels of the California variant, including Arizona. The California Department of Public Health also recommended that the state stop distributing the treatment, which is made by American pharmaceutical company Eli & Lily. In a health alert, the department said this treatment was unlikely to be active against the California variants. The U.K. variant, which is highly contagious, has also been spreading statewide ever since it was first detected in late January. In March the U.K. variant accounted for 4.72% of genetically analyzed samples. Currently, Engelthaler said Arizona has over 100 cases of the U.K. variant and over 1,000 cases of the California variants. Arizona also detected its first cases of the South Africa variant last week. So far, Lim said that all of the variants of concern are manageable and have not risen to the level of "variant of high consequence," which the CDC defines as variants that are shown to significantly reduce the effectiveness of prevention and medical measures. "The risk is whether one of these current variants of concern acquire additional mutations that push it up to the next level," Lim said. To prevent further mutations, LaBaer said it's important to prevent spread of the virus by continuing to follow health guidelines and getting vaccinated. The more the community can prevent the spread of the virus, the less mutations will occur, he said. "We're kind of in this race right now between the developed dominance of these much more infectious variants that are now spreading throughout the country and getting people vaccinated," LaBaer said. "At the moment, I'm a little worried that the spread of this virus is so fast that that may outpace our ability to get vaccines in arms." He said it was theoretically possible that new variants could escape the vaccines, meaning that the public would move backward away from reaching herd immunity. But Lim said the vaccines can easily be updated to protect against new variants. Pharmaceutical companies like Pfizer and Moderna are already working on developing updated booster shots. In the meantime, researchers will continue to monitor the Arizona variant to see if it spreads further. Engelthaler said he expects the most fit variants of the virus to become more dominant statewide as people continue to get vaccinated and stamp out less successful strains. "There's a bit of a race here with the virus — a survival of the fittest race," Engelthaler said. "But what we don't want is to raise too much concern that things are going in the wrong direction...what we're doing is closely watching the evolution of a virus like we never have before. It's good that we have this capability, it's more important to put it into context." Amanda Morris covers all things bioscience, which includes health care, technology, new research and the environment. Send her tips, story ideas, or dog memes at amorris@gannett.com and follow her on Twitter @amandamomorris for the latest bioscience updates. Independent coverage of bioscience in Arizona is supported by a grant from the Flinn Foundation. -
2020-05-27
Community Solidarity Creates Resiliency
Community solidarity creates resiliency. Fed up and want to get involved? Follow these local orgs for updates and latest actions: @blackvisionscollective, @reclaimtheblock, @mpd_150, @mnfreedomfund -
2021-03-20
Mask Trash in Our Sacred Places
Mask trash found in a protected habitat area of Muir Beach, California. The area is closed to try and recover habitats in danger. -
2020-09-22
Unintended Consequences Part II
This article, "From Equality to Global Poverty: How Covid-19 is Affecting Societies and Economies," includes much information. It covers things like the fact that millions of kids may not ever go back to school after this. The article talks about how poverty has increased since the outbreak and how clean energy progress has stalled. The article ends by talking about the investments needed. But all in all there is a lot of important information here on unintended consequences. -
2020-08-26
Unintended Consequences
Devi Sridhar from the London School of Economics covers some things we don't think about when we think about consequences of the pandemic. She compares outbreaks to black holes, as society focuses attention to the pandemic, other priorities are put to the side. Juliet Bedford talks about the vulnerabilities of poorer communities. This interview covers lots of unintended consequences and outcomes of the pandemic.