Items

• 2021-02-18

  Early Retirement Reflection

  While I am grateful and privileged enough to have quarantined at home with my family, it was certainly frustrating. Once I had conquered my first taste of online learning all I had ahead of me was an uncertain and potentially endless summer. As someone who is a high-risk individual, I didn't feel comfortable going back to my summer job in retail immediately. Thankfully, both of my parents were able to continue to work and I was able to stay home. Being able to stay home for the summer and relax in my hammock most days was unsettlingly different than how others experienced this past summer. I regret not better using my free time to help those that lost jobs and housing and support, while I still had mine. Shockingly the gleam of my extended vacation wore off pretty quickly with my parents. When my parents finally got fed up with me drinking an afternoon coffee in my backyard every day they told me I had better find something productive to keep busy. After sending an unbelievable amount of e-mails and a couple of phone calls with some busy executives I landed an under-the-table research internship. The only issue? Not being able to research through their physical archives. Go figure. While my research wasn't extensive it did keep me fairly busy for my remaining time at home. My early retirement this past summer was a substantial setback in accordance with my previous plans, but it was thoroughly enjoyable.
• 
  2020-08-13

  Fires With Family

  With social distancing measures out in place when having gatherings, it is difficult to spend time with family and friends. During the pandemic, my distant family members and I decided to light a fire in the firepit located in my backyard with 6 feet in between us. We talked about what each of us have been doing during quarantine and ate delicious food made by others. This fire pit was used multiple times during the pandemic but for the same reasons. The only downfall of using this firepit for visits is that it can only be used in the warmer weather. I feel as though this photo is a necessity for a covid-19 collection. It shows what families go through to be near each other in this part of the country/world.
• 
  2020-07-04

  Tío Pepe and COVID-19

  Throughout July and August of 2020, my family went through the loss of my great uncle on my dad’s side of the family. We all called him as tío Pepe. Tío Pepe was an essential male figure throughout my dad’s life, and the only one of my grandmother’s brothers (my father’s mom) to maintain a close relationship with us. My grandmother passed away suddenly in 2013; my father and his siblings were not prepared, and it is still a sore subject for all of us to comprehend. Tío Pepe was the bridge that connected me to my grandmother and her history. Tío Pepe shared the same mannerisms, physical features, and life philosophies as her. My tío Pepe really helped my father’s family adapt to living in the United States after they moved from Laredo, Mexico in the mid-1970s. When he passed, the pain cut through generational experiences. It felt like a piece of me that was so deeply rooted, that I could not quite grasp because I was still trying to figure it out, was ripped away. Tío Pepe was in his 70s, so it’s not like he had an exceptional amount of time with us, but we thought it was enough. He was cognizant, independent, intelligent, and showed me new perspectives every time we talked. Losing him was like losing a vital source of my memory, my optimism, and my faith. This is a little insight into what it’s like to mourn the death of loved one due to COVID-19. I’ve formatted this entry as a loose timeline to capture the dragged-out period of fear, uncertainty, doubt, and mourning. This experience cast a haze onto my family as we tried to navigate an unnavigable disease and global situation. We couldn’t make sense of it all; we couldn’t carry out our customary responses to a death in the family which left us feeling powerless. Personally, it made me feel like I was almost drowning. I felt like I was barely making it over the water to take brief puffs of air, but I was never comfortable nor safe. It was long, painful, and empty. While this process tested our individual emotional strength and optimism, it never weakened our ability to unite as a family. If anything, this experience fortified our family bond. July 4, 2020 – The mayor and city government sent out several warnings against celebrating the holiday in large groups. I was spending the evening with my parents, brother, and his family when my mom received a text message from a cousin of ours describing how tío Pepe’s daughter, Beth, had tested positive for the coronavirus. Her children and boyfriend also tested positive, and that my tío Pepe and my tía (his wife) were awaiting any symptoms. July 10, 2020 – We got the news that an ambulance would be taking my tío Pepe to the hospital. At this time, San Antonio was going through its second major spike in cases, with less and less medical supplies available for incoming patients. My family opted for an ambulance just so tío Pepe would have a better chance at getting a hospital bed and being treated quickly. July 12 – July 18, 2020, tío Pepe’s first week in the hospital: He was unconscious, on a respirator, and kind of keeping steady. We hung on to the ‘no news is good news’ mantra, remaining optimistic, and continued to live our lives. We really did not think this disease would touch our family in any serious way. On July 17, 2020: I officially canceled my gym membership. I was one of the selfish individuals impatiently waiting for, and incredibly excited by, the announcement that gyms would reopen earlier that summer. I frequented the gym almost every day. I was aware that the risk of COVID-19 was rather high at fitness gyms, but I thought nothing could touch me because I’m young, and I was desperate for some normalcy. And, while if I had contracted the disease my symptoms may not have been severe, tío Pepe’s hospitalization made me realize that I could have lived with the disease and infected someone like my tío and forced them to endure unimaginable pain. I canceled my membership because the reality of COVID finally hit me. It’s sad that it took my tío suffering for me to understand. July 13 – July 17, 2020: We received news that tío Pepe had woken up from his induced state and pulled out all of the breathing tubes connected to his face, which threw a wrench into the progress he was making. The doctors decided to try to inject him with plasma from individuals who had already recovered from the virus and built up antibodies. The treatment seemed to be going well, and again, we remained optimistic. July 20 – July 24, 2020, the week of his death: On July 20, a Monday, my cousin Gabby called my parents to let us know that tío Pepe’s health had taken a swift turn downward. Tío Pepe’s organs had gotten infected. Every day leading up to his death ended with a phone call update, further informing us of his degrading state. Gabby earned her master’s degree in Public Health; she knew exactly what to ask the doctors and what their responses meant behind the cushioned language. I knew that Gabby was further sugar coating these messages to her parents and mine. I texted her separately asking her to tell it to me straight. She informed me that things were not looking good at all. She told me not to keep my hopes up. It was cold, but it was the most honest and reliable set of news I had gotten throughout tío Pepe’s time in the hospital. For four days, we were all hanging onto our phones for the next call or text message update. It was quiet; the uncertainty lingered and distracted me from everything. Tío Pepe passed away Thursday morning July 23, 2020. I had been working as a research assistant for St. Mary’s University throughout the summer. My mother received a phone call from my dad with the news while I was in the middle of conducting an oral history for the research project. My mom cracked open the door to my room but quickly realized that I was still on Zoom and walked away. As soon as I heard my door open I knew exactly what happened. I carried on with the rest of the oral history, closed out my work for the day, and kept to myself. When I clocked out I emailed my supervisors of the situation. I hadn’t told them when he initially contracted the disease, nor the roller coaster of updates throughout his time there. My supervisors were very understanding, and I took the next couple of days to myself. I went for a rather long run that afternoon to clear my mind. I came home, showered, and tried to distract myself by watching baseball with my parents. My dad came home and hugged us, also acting as if everything was no big deal. My dad frequently shared music with tío Pepe to let each other know that they were thinking about each other. From my point of view, I think this was a way for tío Pepe to check up on his nephew and remind him to keep his head up. My dad had put his phone to charge and began talking to us in the living room. I got up to go to the kitchen and passed by his phone, which was locked. When I passed by, his Pandora started playing “Lead Me Home” by Jamey Johnson. This happened completely by itself; I did not touch it and my dad was in the other room. Here’s a snippet of the song: I have seen my last tomorrow I am holding my last breath Goodbye, sweet world of sorrow My new life, begins with death I am standing on the mountain I can hear the angel’s songs I am reaching over Jordon Take my hand, Lord lead me home All my burdens, are behind me I have prayed, my final pray Don't you cry, over my body Cause that ain't me, lying there No, I am standing on the mountain I can hear the angels’ songs I am reaching over Jordon Take my hand, Lord lead me home I am standing (Lord, I am standing) on the mountain (on the mountain) I can hear (I can hear the angels songs) the angels songs I am reaching over Jordon, (over Jordon) Take my hand, Lord lead me home Take my hand, Lord lead me home We all started crying uncontrollably. We felt like my tío Pepe was letting us know that he was okay and that he’s still thinking about us. July 27, 2020: My sister in-law and I were looking for a way to comfort tío Pepe’s daughter, Beth, and his wife. My sister in-law thought shadow boxes with photos of tío Pepe, decorated with cardstock flowers, and a sweet message would be a way for us to honor his memory and share in his family’s grieving process. On the box we made for Beth, the message reads “Dad, Grandpa, Best Friend;” on the box we made for his wife the message reads “Amor Eterno” (eternal love). The shadow boxes took us pretty much all day to make—completely worth it. We spent the evening telling stories about my tío Pepe and just spending quality family time together. The shadow boxes are pictured in this post. We used pictures from Beth’s Facebook. Tío Pepe was also very active on Facebook, which was kind of surprising for his age. He was very politically active and critical of our public institutions. According to my dad, tío Pepe has always kept up with current events and sympathized with the Chicano Movement; he was pretty about it, if you know what I mean. The last time he reached out to me on the social media platform was to commemorate our “friendiversary.” That was also the last time I engaged in one-on-one communication with him, which really shreds me up inside. He reached out because he knew that I was stuck at home working and attending grad school. He was always thinking of everyone and our individual challenges, reminding us to keep going. The shadow boxes were a surprise to Beth and her mom. I’ve included the screenshot of our brief conversation shortly after dropping them off. It hurt that I couldn’t get off and hug her. I saw that the just looking at the boxes invoked so much emotion in Beth. August 7, 2020, the funeral service: Our family had to wait two weeks before tío Pepe’s body could be released from the hospital. Throughout those two weeks it felt like I was floating. When you mourn a death time just stops for a couple of days; everything is really out of its element. But mourning a COVID death, having to wait to properly give your loved one a respectful service and not being able to fall into the arms of your relatives, prolonged this motionless feeling. If felt like a comet was slowly crashing into my core; I could feel every bit of my earth tear apart and float away. The service was set up like a drive-in movie. The funeral home had a screen outside of the building, a radio station to air the service, and a livestream on their website. We all drove up to the screen and either tuned in or played the livestream to listen. We had the choice to experience the service inside the building with tío Pepe’s daughter, wife, and grandchildren. However, they all had just gotten over COVID-19 so most of us stayed in our cars. I didn’t think the service would hit me as hard because of the physical distance and technological filter. My family is Catholic, I grew up Catholic, but I haven’t been the most devout member of the church. My tío Pepe lived one street over from the church we all grew up with. By “we” I mean three generations of my family. The deacon who led the service has known my family for at least 20 years. To sum up what I’m getting at, our church and Catholic culture is deeply rooted our family history. The service reduced us all to our childhood; we felt vulnerable. I remember every single prayer and recited all of them word-for-word, English and Spanish. The last time I had recited these prayers was for my grandmother’s funeral. Except this time, I had to go through these emotions on my own. It felt like someone was shooting thumbtacks at me, through me. Tío Pepe’s wife, daughter, grandson, and sister each wrote a few words on behalf of tío Pepe. I don’t know which set of words hurt the most. They all spoke from the heart; they were so raw and resonated so deeply with all of us. I wanted so badly to hug everyone. I was so incredibly mad that we were all put in that situation, to have to have our hearts pulled and constricted at the same time. Tío Pepe’s grandson, Joseph, and his girlfriend are expecting their first baby; tío Pepe would have been a great grandfather. Joseph spent a lot of time with tío Pepe, almost every single day, and he really embodies his pensive, mild nature. His words were strong and grounding. One thing Joseph said that I think really describes how tío Pepe carried himself is, “My grandpa always reminded me to do the right thing.” Tío Pepe treated everything and every situation with a level mind and fairness. No family, no honest and responsible person should have had to experience such ungraspable pain that never really seems to heal. To this day, my family has not physically come together to fill in the gaps in our hearts that this experience left behind. Late August, a virtual birthday commemoration: A couple of weeks after his funeral, tío Pepe would have turned 71. Gabby, the recent Public Health graduate, decided to make my tío Pepe’s favorite cake and offered one to each household. She scheduled a Zoom meeting for all of us to sit, talk, eat, and cry. My dad and the older relatives in my family brought out old photos of from their early years living in the United States. We each shared our favorite memory of tío Pepe. Here’s mine: before I went off to college Tío Pepe told my dad not to worry about me because he sees me as a ‘visionary.’ He reassured my dad and I that I have a good head on my shoulders, that I’m independent, and that if I really put my mind to it I could do anything. That was the first time anyone had given me words of encouragement going into adulthood—or really treated me like an adult. I snapped a picture of my dad talking to our tía Elda (Tío Pepe’s sister) about life in Mexico and the little arguments they’d get into as my dad was growing up. Although we were separated by a screen, this sort of companionship really helped us reconnect. I chose to include this story for this archive to humanize the broader health and historical context of the pandemic. This was both the easiest and hardest thing for me to create for this archive. The easiest because I was able to let the words flow out of my heart and be typed onto a word document; the hardest because I’ve realized just how ripe these feelings and memories still are for me. My emotions and memories of late July and early August have not fully healed. It’s been hard to accept someone’s death without physical closure. There were no last goodbyes, no hugs, no close contact of any kind to seal the wound in our hearts. I’m still longing to physically embrace my family; but for them I’d wait as long as I have to in order to do that safely. I write this as another way to connect with them. To share my deep feelings and let them know that they’re not the only ones who have felt or are feeling this way. Real people, real families exist within the news stories, academic articles, and everchanging statistics. Tío Pepe was much more than a statistic; my family is much more than a statistic.
• 2020-10-27

  The Last Day Of School

  It was march, at school people were talking alot about the coronavirus but nobody really saw how big the issue was. I remember in previous weeks my hirstoy teacher asking our class, “Do you guys think this virus will eventually affect us? What do you think? Will we be affected?” I remember the whole class pretty much saying “Nah we will be fine,” there were maybe a select few who saw this coming, but for the most part nobody had a clue it would bring us here. Even my teacher. Towards the end of that school day, everyone didn’t understand what was going on, but all we knew was that we didn’t have to come to school the following Monday. It was a Friday. I went to my friend’s house after school with my frined group at the time and we all talked about the possibilities, and how we might get a two week extention on spring break, not knowing this would be the last time we hang out for a pretty long time before all of our friendships changed. We never knew that over half a year of growing and learning in highschool, and that one of our very few summers as a teen would be stripped away from us.
• 2020-10-11

  In the Pandemic Journey

  I am an international student from Colombia. I was in the middle of my fourth semester as a sophomore in college when I heard that the pandemic hitting the world just entered the U.S. I was excited at the time because my girlfriend and I bought tickets to go to New York City during spring break. I thought we were going until I heard that New York City was a hot spot for COVID-19. We did not want to risk anything, especially if we were going to encounter a virus that was completely unknown to us, so we cancelled the trip, but the airline still gave us the tickets to fly anytime between then and the end of 2022. After that, spring break came, and it was announced that the university was closed after spring break and we would have to go completely online. I live with my girlfriend since I first came to the U.S., so I stayed with her at her home that is two hours from the university we are enrolled in. We finished the rest of the semester there at her home. We then stayed for another month there and while we were in complete isolation we took advantage of that to go running together to be healthy, we did not let ourselves get bored, we were always doing something, we would do zoom video calls with our friends, watch movies, play video games, etc. After that we came back to Stevens Point to work on campus for the summer (with the required restrictions) so we could make some money to pay for our tuition. Though this is considered by many one of the worst years they’ve lived in, I had the most fun summer since I first came to the U.S – me, my girlfriend, and our friends had a blast; we hung out almost every day, we went to isolated beaches and went on boat rides, we had bonfires, we partied amongst ourselves, we went hiking, we went biking, we played soccer, etc. When the summer was over, we went back to classes and I got also got interested in learning new languages, so I downloaded the app called Duolingo to learn Portuguese and practice some other languages. Since Spanish and Portuguese are so similar, I am quickly picking up the language. I started my junior year in college, and I could not be happier with the classes I picked. My girlfriend and I thought that since we have classes online and more time at home, it would be the perfect time to get a dog, so we adopted a Doxiepoo, the combination of a Dachshund and a miniature poodle. She is 4 months and we have had a lot of time to train her and we couldn’t be happier with her. Everyone has their ways of coping, and with this ongoing journey through a global pandemic, I have learned that my way of coping is not only adjusting to the situation but also taking advantage of the variety of opportunities that arrive and make the best out of it. This pandemic has taught me in a way that just because we are adjusting, we should not stop living in the moment and while I understand that for some people this pandemic might be harder, it is up to us to either make it a living hell or make it one of the most memorable experiences of our life.
• 
  2020-08-27

  Last day of swim class in Scottsdale

  Maya's last day of swim class at the Cactus Aquatic center. I can't imagine what it's like to wear a face mask and swim, especially once that mask gets wet. All the lifeguards and instructors wear masks. It's sometimes 117 degrees when we're sitting on the pool deck and sometimes I feel like I can't breathe in the heat. I wish I could get in the pool, but instead the parents are sidelined. Fortunately, if you're actually in the pool you don't have to wear a face mask. The last class basically involved all the kids jumping off the diving board for half an hour. Were they social distanced? No, but I think we're all leveraging some sort of invisible balance where we try to be careful, but try to keep some activities/normalcy going in our kids' lives. Our next class starts in two weeks and I hope it's cooler. Maya graduated from the guppies class to sea turtles.
• 
  2020-07-05

  Where to Vacation

  Social Distancing has been the name of the game since day one; even as doctors and health professionals have struggled to understand the virus, staying six feet apart has always been a recommendation. As the President has flouted the rules of the CDC, Department of Health, and others people have grown angrier and have began to place a greater amount of blame on him. This item was added TAGS v6.1.9.1. I originally searched under the hashtag #ThisYearMySummerVacation. Within that search, I have chosen to add the following tweet because it describes the anger that people feel towards the President over his handling of the coronavirus
• 
  2020-07-05

  Summer Vacation Plans

  The coronavirus did not magically disappear by the Spring, and it doesn't look like the Summer heat is gong to make it go away any faster. In the tweet, we can say that for many people a summer vacation isn't going to be possible. Doctors and medical professionals are but some of the few people that are gong to be working hard through the summer to ensure that we are at least prepared come the Fall. This item was added TAGS v6.1.9.1. I originally searched under the hashtag #thisyearmysummervacation. Within that search, I have chosen to add the following tweet because it speaks towards a changed summer atmosphere for everyone bit especially medical professionals who are not going to be able to get a break.
• 
  2020-06-20

  Summer Plans Thwarted by Coronavirus

  Summer is something that I have always looked forward to, either as a student or as a teacher. It is time to decompress, relax, and mentally prepare for the upcoming academic year. Usually a good summer consists of travel, music/art festivals, and a whole of mingling with friends and strangers alike. Although flights and cruises are cheaper than ever, social distancing and the fear of the coronavirus has limited opportunities to have a fun summer. It means getting creative with the ways that fun can be had in the middle of a pandemic.