Items

• 
  2020-08-11

  Virtual Learning in California

  The American response to the global COVID-19 Pandemic was multi-faceted. However, of specific importance to the nation were the changes made to public education. As the Pandemic resulted in the closure of businesses, teachers and students were required to continue their educational programs online from the privacy of their homes. Although the effects of distance learning will continue to be seen, virtual learning severely limited the ability of students and teachers to use sensory perception as a tool for learning and instruction. First, distance learning no longer enabled American teachers to utilize the sensory perception of “proximity.” Throughout public education “proximity” is used to encourage student engagement with both instruction and content. Many teachers will walk their classrooms during student activities and use sensory perception to sensorially inform students that they are near to them and are assessing their engagement. Teachers use this strategy as a reinforcement tool to develop students’ ability to stay on task. Yet, during the COVID-19 Pandemic, social distancing policies made “proximity” not only impossible, but also illegal, limiting to what extent teachers could use sensory perception to foster engagement and learning. Second, not only were educators no longer allowed to use the sensory perception tool of physical proximity, but also many educators were forced to rely solely on the sensory perception of sound. School districts throughout the state of California, for example, did not permit educators to require their students to verify their attendance in live video format. The result was educators and students were engaging predominantly through speaking and listening. Furthermore, being denied the sensory perception of sight, educators could not assess to what extent students were engaging with instruction and activities. In conclusion, the COVID-19 Pandemic enacted emergency response strategies which directly affected the education of Generation Z. For both students and educators, sensory perception became more limited for every student. Yet, the sciences, including social science, are built upon the empirical information a human being receives through them. Perhaps this video will serve as evidence to answer the question, “To what extent were students denied the right to sensory information and science?”
• 
  2020-03-26

  The Sound of Sewing

  I moved back in with my parents right before lockdown during the Covid-19 pandemic never imagining how long it would go on for. Since my mother is a teacher she was at home with my younger sister and me during the entire lockdown. My father still went to work because he works for a city and was part of the emergency response to the pandemic. I remember going to the grocery store with my sister and seeing the empty shelves unsure of when they would be restocked. I remember the panic of needing face masks and not being able to find any. That is when my mother decided she would make face masks for us, our extended family and to donate. She pulled out the sewing machine, which originally was for when my grandmother would come visit, and set it on the dining table. My grandmother used to sew all the time when she would visit us and make my sister and I dresses and even matching dresses for our dolls. It was always a sound I had associated with her. I helped my mother in ordering and looking up information on which materials were recommended by health officials, then she set to work, making hundreds of face masks. Every morning I would wake up to the sound of the sewing machine and my first thought would be of my grandmother. As time went on I associated the sound with the pandemic, more specifically lockdown. My mother enjoys doing different craft projects and she really enjoyed making the face masks. It was a fun activity that I also enjoyed helping her with. She made face masks for my dad’s work which were donated to the fire and police departments. We also mailed masks to our extended family in New Mexico, California, and Mexico. We wore the masks ourselves if we had to go anywhere during lockdown. The sound of the sewing machine became a regular occurrence during those early weeks of quarantine. The sewing machine, especially the sound, used to only represent my grandmother making gifts for us. In Mexico, where my grandmother still lives, she used to have a small business making and selling clothing as a way to earn extra much needed money. It wasn’t just a hobby at that time, but a necessity for her and her family. The sound of the sewing machine, became something I not only associated of my grandmother but of the beginning of quarantine and the importance of knowing certain basic skills. Knowing how to sew, and even being able to use a sewing machine, may seem like an unimportant skill nowadays, which was something I used to think. However, that skill helped my grandmother and decades later is still helping the rest of our family.
• 
  2020-05-01

  The Hustle and Bustle That Went Naught

  This story is nothing that many of you may not be familiar with, notably of those in metropolitan-like areas. Plus, I can not say that this story is anything deeply descriptive and the likes thereof, but it certainly had an impact on someone like me (along with others) that live in a city, notably if you are especially in or around New York City, the city that never sleeps. What brings me back to this? Well, not exactly the link that I provided that actually shows (at the time of course) a live-time recording of midtown Manhattan and its eerie sound, which is paradoxically a "sound" of a hovering-like quiescent stillness of keen silence (but a silent ambiance that was somewhat peculiarly enchanting) . Or rather, as the title alludes to, a sound that was "naught". At the time, it became so normal if you will (especially around 40 days since the lockdown went into effect), that it became a coincidentia oppositorum of sorts. One might ask, where is such a "unity of opposites" in effect whereby this was simply a "change" in the dynamics of your "said" environment? To start, the Newark (NJ) area is nothing BUT a concoction of familiar and somewhat pleasing noise as I sit in my half-airconditioned room, from the constant sound of public transportation busses passing by and their intrinsic slight familiar screeching stop, the talk of those a few floors down walking the streets, the constant sound(s) of cars flowing by, the sound of the famous pathway train into NYC in the faint distance (though it stops at Jersey City first), those at the corners (as inappropriate as it may sound) calling out that they got "x, y, and z" near Broad and Market Street, so forth and so on, to "almost" nothing! It was like something straight out of the novel Brave New World and other such pally stories of the sort. To me and many others around our surrounding areas, this was a moment in history that stood out, one that I can not recall in similarity since Tuesday, September 11th. 2001. Because the unity of these non-coherent opposites is in the simple fact that the innate aspect of a pandemic lockdown of a such magnitude as we had is quite obviously "silence" if you will, which is the opposite of what is immersed in a city of almost 300,000 (and that is of course not including the amount of citizens in neighboring metro-areas both east, north, and south of my location), nevertheless, they formed one coherent form of a dialectical force. Because it soon became a "norm" and it happened at quite an expedient rate in the larger scheme of things. Nothing was more "quiet" and "surreal" then the tragic events of 9/11, as it did not take some time for a similar situation to occur, as the event was so dynamic that everything I am speaking of happened at once, but and more importantly, day by day the city quickly gained back its ingrained normative environment. But the reason I arbitrarily picked the date of 5/1/2020, rather then use the date of the article, is because it was in early May where this began to slowly engulf me and took me back to one quite sunny day around noon (maybe a tad later), where all of this, "all of this" being that of what I speak of, struck me finally as something transformative (but far less than cathartic to say the least). I hope you enjoyed my little tidbit of what kind of impact COVID had on me (be it a self-like precept, photograph, video, etc...), particular using my experience in a sensory course of description. Sure, there was obviously other aspects that came into play with COVID-19 that eventually impacted us, but most of them were later on as the days moved by, while rather this experience was the first and the one that will stick with me anytime I think back to the pandemic. And the beauty of it, or rather lack thereof, all happened while simply sitting near my bed (hence against the window) while putting on my prosthetic legs. Cheers to you all!
• 2021-06-12

  Graduation: A celebration or just another day?

  A long and hot three hour and forty five minute drive to San Luis Obispo was halted short of the two hour mark for a very important celebration. Was it really a time of celebration though? Some could argue that the mood and the hot weather of a summer June 12 afternoon in 2021 was just another day. After the strike of the pandemic, online instruction skyrocketed around the state of California. Other California State schools, resorted to their spring commencement to be online, our school was no different. We stopped our car at a local 76 gas station just off the side of the freeway to celebrate my virtual graduation from Cal Poly San Luis Obispo. My mom pulled up in the parking lot where next to the 76 gas station was a McDonald's with free Wifi which allowed for us to connect to the Zoom meeting. We waited as name after name from the History Department was called, in which you could hear the only the applause and cheers of close family for fellow graduates called before me. The quiet tension in the car while waiting for my name to be called was very obvious in the car. There was no excitement at all. Just another normal day in the hot June sun. Finally, my name was called upon. A description of my goals and my final senior project were mentioned in the ceremony in my honor. All while the bustling of cars, the smell of fast food and the barking and crying of young kids and dogs lingered in the background of the car. My family applauded clapping and crying out my name. Seconds later, the next name was read and I logged off zoom, placed my cap to the side and we continued our drive to San Luis Obispo. Apart of me wondered that day we drove away from the gas station what a true graduation may have felt like, may have sounded like without these troubling times.
• 
  2021-09-16

  Life is Better Where It's Wetter

  Travel had always been in my blood. I can even remember the first time I was legally allowed to board a plane on my own without having to wear a silly "Unaccompanied Minor" badge around my neck. The idea of getting on an airplane and landing in a completely new place only hours later would always thrill me. Unfortunately, when the pandemic hit, travel started to look a little different. The freedom I once felt when I stepped foot on a 737 began to feel more like an anxiety-filled hassle. Normally, I would have been found jet-setting across the U.S. to the big cities on the east and west coasts where the parties lasted all night long, but that was no longer possible. I started to remembered how I had always wanted to visit Lake Tahoe. I'd always seen the outdoorsy girls on my Instagram feed post pictures of the clear, blue water. Maybe this was my chance to take a break from the major hubs and slow down my pace. One thing remained, though. I still didn't want to face those airports. That's when I made one of the biggest decisions of my young life. I packed up my Jeep and started out on what would become 3 weeks across our American highways - just me, a Jeep Wrangler, and the open road. I never could have expected what I would discover while driving. I truly gained a new appreciation for the world around me and realized I much preferred travel by wheel than by wing. Here I thought the freedom I felt when traveling was at risk of becoming obsolete, when in reality it was the opposite. Any time there was a unique store along the road or a picturesque landscape, I simply stopped. I never could have done that in an airplane! When I finally made it to the beach at California's gorgeous Lake Tahoe, I was speechless. It was everything I could have imagined and more. The views, the smells, the sounds - breathtaking. It was in those moments, I got my freedom back in the middle of a pandemic.
• 
  2021-02

  Hoping for Good Days

  It was several months since my last day in a classroom. March 13, 2020 to be exact. Friday the 13th. The previous school year we were told it was to be a possible 2 week break that ended up going until the end of the year. What was to become of the next school year of 2020-21? I tried to stay optimistic over the summer and enjoy the time spent with family. We were lucky to have each other and have a yard and house where we felt safe to be quarantined. I knew a lot of my students were not so lucky in that they lived in apartments with several family members. Still I wanted to be optimistic about the upcoming year. As the start of school year date got closer, it was apparent we were to continue online teaching via zoom. I felt I was pretty tech savvy and could integrate technology enough to keep my students engaged, but it was still challenging. I taught incoming freshman 9th grade students. They did not get the “new students” experience of coming to my school and meeting and greeting all the faculty and each other. Initially the expectation was to have all students have cameras on, and for the most part in that Fall semester, my students did. But then towards the break students started getting sick, parents were losing their jobs, some even lost family members. People were sad. We barely made it into the winter break with students attending “online”. I was fortunate to have most of my students log in but in other classes students stopped showing up. And if they did log in, cameras were off and it felt like talking to a void. Were they still paying attention? Were some of them just logging in and doing other things like playing video games or sleeping? I was frustrated, but also empathetic knowing for a lot of these students survival, not academics, was their priority during the time. After the winter break and a return to zoom teaching, it was a palpable sadness. There were people who had lost loved ones, and my students were depressed. I could feel the grief and sorrow through the screen and sometimes I would weep after my classes ended for the day. I had to maintain a persona of optimism for my students online and also keep encouraging their academic pursuits. I have never had such a challenging teaching year like the 2020-21 year. The sensory experience I am recalling is sometime in February of 2021. It was the second semester of school, back from the break and many people had a rough time of the holiday season with loneliness, fear, and loss. I don't know how I came up with the idea but I thought about students sharing playlists with the class. I would review them, and if we had a test together on zoom I would play songs on the background. One particular song I found was “Good Days” by SZA. It was not my style of music, but I knew it was what my students listened to. The day I played that song I started to get a lot of feedback from the zoom chat from all my classes about that song. By this time a majority of students had stopped showing themselves on camera and/or stopped talking, however Good Days sparked something in my students. The intro of the song is very melodic and serene. It is one of those songs that sounds very sweet, but is very sad at the same time. I could tell by the response of my students that it hit a nerve. A few of them began to speak up again in class, a few would turn their camera on again. And of course, I had several sending messages after class thanking me for the song. This happy/sad song connected me again to my students that I thought I had lost over winter break. It gave me a little hope again, and I think it gave some of them hope too. Now, whenever I hear Good Days by Sza it reminds me of those lonely online zoom classes in February and how we were all feeling a bit sad, but a simple song gave us all a bit of hope that the future was to have some Good Days ahead. Lyrics to Good Days All the while, I'll await my armored fate with a smile Still wanna try, still believe in (good days) Good days, always (good days) Always inside (always in my mind, always in my mind, mind) Good day living in my mind
• 
  2020-06-01

  Tranquility at Camarillo State Hospital

  The property of California State University Channel Islands (CSUCI) was not always the site of the CSU’s twenty-third campus. From 1936-1997 the Spanish-colonial style buildings housed 7,000 of California’s mentally handicapped population at Camarillo State Hospital. The site sat vacant for 5 years from 1997 until CSUCI took over the old hospital buildings in 2002. The COVID-19 pandemic brought back an unnerving quietness, reminiscent of when the property was unoccupied. My mom and I took advantage of how serene the campus was and made a point to walk our dogs there several times per week. We did it not just to get out of the house, but due to how enjoyable it was to take in the beauty of the campus. Recalling these memories strongly evokes all five senses and immediately brought me back to the lockdown times of the early pandemic. The absence of college students rushing to their next class made the campus strangely quiet, but there was an enjoyable quality to it. You would occasionally hear ocean breezes whizzing around the vacant corridors and then immediately get greeted with the smell of salty beach air. It would be common for the air to be mixed with the smell of cilantro and strawberries being harvested at farms surrounding the campus. However, not all smells are made equal. When the winds would change, the on-site wastewater facility would waft heinous odors into the direction of the campus, momentarily ruining the blissful experience. The open corridors of the former hospital buildings contain steady slopes, occasionally requiring one to hold the handrails that have stood for nearly one hundred years. It always made me dive back in history and think about the thousands of patients at the hospital that probably held onto that same rail. At times we would hear screeching from the sky near the old Receiving and Treatment hospital where the current university library stands. We both would look up and see large turkey vultures or hawks elegantly gliding over the thousand-acre property, creating a picturesque scene above us. Now that we are in a post-pandemic world trying to return to normal, these experiences are not quite the same as they were in the height of the pandemic when the school was completely emptied. Students have returned to the dorms, and university-related events are once again a common occurrence throughout the campus.
• 2020-08-11

  Long-Distance Learning

  The American response to the global COVID-19 Pandemic was multi-faceted. However, of specific importance to the nation were the changes made to public education. As the Pandemic resulted in the closure of businesses, teachers and students were required to continue their educational programs online from the privacy of their homes. Although the effects of distance learning will continue to be seen, virtual learning severely limited the ability of students and teachers to use sensory perception as a tool for learning and instruction. First, distance learning no longer enabled American teachers to utilize the sensory perception of “proximity.” Throughout public education “proximity” is used to encourage student engagement with both instruction and content. Many teachers will walk their classrooms during student activities and use sensory perception to sensorially inform students that they are near to them and are assessing their engagement. Teachers use this strategy as a reinforcement tool to develop students’ ability to stay on task. Yet, during the COVID-19 Pandemic, social distancing policies made “proximity” not only impossible, but also illegal, limiting to what extent teachers could use sensory perception to foster engagement and learning. Second, not only were educators no longer allowed to use the sensory perception tool of physical proximity, but also many educators were forced to rely solely on the sensory perception of sound. School districts throughout the state of California, for example, did not permit educators to require their students to verify their attendance in live video format. The result was educators and students were engaging predominantly through speaking and listening. Furthermore, being denied the sensory perception of sight, educators could not assess to what extent students were engaging with instruction and activities. In conclusion, the COVID-19 Pandemic enacted emergency response strategies which directly affected the education of Generation Z. For both students and educators, sensory perception became more limited for every student. Yet, the sciences, including social science, are built upon the empirical information a human being receives through them. Perhaps this video will serve as evidence to answer the question, “Is the right to sensory perception and scientific information included within the natural rights of life, liberty, and property?”
• 2020-06-06

  The Town Without a Sound.

  It had been a few months after that start of the pandemic. I left my home early in the morning and noticed something odd when I got outside there was no sound. At this time of the year, I would expect to hear kids outside playing in the Cul-de-sac. It was the weekend and early in the morning I expected to hear someone working on their yard, yet no one was around I heard nothing. I also lived close to the highway and if it was any other day I would hear a cars and trucks going by but, today there was nothing. It gave me an eerie feeling like time had stood still or that I was the last person on earth. Lucky a few seconds later I herd a car that pulled me out of this moment of dread. My wife had just returned from working the night shift as a nurse at the hospital. I will never forget the day it was so quiet that I felt the earth stand still.
• 
  2020-03-21

  A Sudden Flight

  It emphasizes the suddenness of the pandemic through sensory history.
• 
  2020-03-21

  The Day the Call to Prayer Changed in Cairo

  If there's one thing you can count on in the Muslim world, it's the call to prayer (adhan) audibly marking the sun's path through the sky, and everyone's route to a mosque, five times a day. It might sound a little different in various regions, a little more musical in Egypt, a little less practiced sometimes in Kyrgyzstan, but it's always the call to prayer, and has been for over 1000 years. But across the Muslim world in March 2020, as mosques closed because of the coronavirus pandemic, the call to prayer was adapted. Instead of saying, "Come to prayer, come to salvation" it said in Egypt, "Pray in your homes, pray on your travels." The wording had been changed like this a few times in the past when mosques were closed because of war or plague or weather, but I honestly never thought I'd hear it myself. The call to prayer seems constant and unchanging, part of the highly sensory experience of Muslim prayer, so this adaptation made the pandemic more present for everyone in Egypt. I'm not Muslim myself, but I talked with Muslim friends all over the world about the change in the adhan. One woman in Kuwait said, "It just sounds so... ominous.. especially at maghrib prayer, it's sunset and getting dark, and the voice over the loudspeakers is saying to stay home... also because I have never, ever heard them change it like this before. Ever. It's like I'm waiting for an eclipse, and the flocks of birds flying away, animals fleeing, etc." I took this video during the last prayer of the day on 21 March 2020 at a mosque near our apartment in Cairo, Egypt. If you're not familiar with the adhan, you obviously won't notice anything different, but this rendition is beautiful even if you don't understand it. If you do, the new wording begins at 1:13. The beginning of the video is a little bumpy while we were getting to the right spot, but then it settles down a bit.
• 
  2020-03-15

  "Handwash Everyone"

  I worked at a McDonald’s in March when the United States went into lockdown. Before the lockdown, the drive-thru line was long, the lobby was full of customers, and employee’s rushed around everywhere. The restaurant was always loud with fryers beeping, headsets beeping, customers ordering and complaining, and employee’s trying to have conversations with each other while taking orders all at the same time. People were constantly sneezing, coughing, or sounding like their voices were hoarse, and no one thought anything of it. Everyone went on about their business. After the pandemic, the restaurant was quieter. No more customers were in the lobby, fewer people came through the drive-thru, and fewer employees were at work, less food was being made, so the fryers beeped less often, as did the headsets that warned us when customers wanted to order. One new sound we could all rely on was the alarm that went off every hour, followed by a manager yelling out that everyone needed to wash their hands. The sound of a raspy voice from a customer, a sneeze, or a cough echoed from the speaker above side one in the kitchen, though the entire restaurant and employees would all look at each other in disgust, sure that this customer must have the Corona Virus. The employee in the first booth taking the payment would instantly remove their gloves and rush to scrub their hands before retrieving a new pair of gloves. The person in the second booth who handed the food out the window would be stretching their arm out the window as far as they could in an effort to stay as far away from the person as possible before repeating the same ritual as the last employee in disinfecting themselves. Sounds that usually just fell into the background noise and people assumed were allergies or just a simple cold suddenly elicited a significant amount of fear in my friends and co-workers. While things have mostly gone back to normal, the handwash alarm and manager yelling for a handwash is an hourly reminder that Covid-19 is still around.
• 
  2020-03-19

  Silent Hospital – Giving Birth in Quarantine

  The Covid-19 quarantine started on March 16th, 2020. I gave birth to my daughter four days later. Thankfully my labor was very quick and there were no complications. By 8:44 a.m. on the 19th, my daughter was in my arms. After the commotion of the nurses and doctors coming to check on my daughter and myself, there was just silence. Newborns, as a quickly discovered, slept a lot. There were long stretches of silence for the two days we were in the hospital. I would look at my husband and say, “It is eerily quiet in here.” I was only one of three mothers giving birth in my area of the hospital, there were no visitors, and we were told to stay in our rooms unless we absolutely needed to walk around. My husband would order food and have to wait at the front of the hospital for them to drop it off. Every time he left and came back, he talked about how he had barely seen anyone, and that it was completely silent in the hospital. When it was time for us to finally leave, walking out of the hospital was also silent. There were no phones ringing, no nurse pagers, no talking between nurses, nothing. The only sounds were my flip flops squeaking off of the floors. When we finally made it outside, the birds were chirping and I remembering thinking, ‘thank goodness for some background noise!’
• 
  2020-08-06

  Knock Knock

  During the summer of 2020 I was taken from my current unit (where I work as a nurse) back to the ICU to care for the overflowing patients. The ICU is a very noisy place, but one noise that was new was the knocking. To go into a COVID patient's room you have to put on booties, a full length gown, two pairs of gloves, an N95 mask and a surgical mask along with eye protection. It is a lengthy process so once you are in the room you don't leave until all tasks are complete. So if you need something when you’re in there you would knock on the glass doors of the patient's room and one of the helper nurses would come and read what you had written on the door in a marker and get the items for you. It was so quite in the rooms, no families were allowed so it was you, the machines and the patient. It was so hot you could feel the sweat dripping down your back and pooling in the arms of your gown. It was a very isolating feeling, usually there are lots of hands and people in your rooms with you to help or just to chat but not during COVID. The knock-knock could be heard all down the hall. It reminds me of the isolation we all experienced during this time and also how resilient we are and how helpful nurses are to each other. Nursing is a team sport. It is a sound and an experience I will never forget.
• 2020-05-01

  Background Noise

  From 2005 to 2020, I was a police officer. My life was hectic and noisy. I carried two mandatory work cell phones everywhere I went, 24 hours a day, which rang, beeped, and chirped continuously. A police radio was on in my house, in my car, or in my ear, every hour of the day. In my world, people were always talking, at work and at home. I resigned from my position in April of 2020, just as the COVID lockdowns were coming into effect. I suddenly found myself with nowhere to be due to no longer having a job and having minimal to no contact with others due to the lockdown. Being an avid flyfisher, my days became about spending most of my time on the river alone. This was also not normal, as I am also a flyfishing guide, and am used to fishing with other people, who are usually talking to me, but due to COVID, I no longer had clients. The constant of my life went from hearing people talking (and yelling) and devises making noise, to the sound of the rushing water of the river. I soon found improvements appearing in my life. I began feeling better, sleeping better, eating better, was able to focus more, and had a much more positive attitude. All of which were side effects of being on the river everyday by myself. The COVID pandemic was an opportunity for people to re-connect with nature unknowingly, as outdoor activities were their only choice of recreation outside of their homes. Due to outdoor activity being the only option for recreation, people learned, or remembered in some cases, the value which nature can add to life, as well as how simple it is to take nature for granted. The pandemic forced people back into nature, which re-awakened (or maybe awakened for the first time) the special relationship between the human senses and nature.
• 
  2020-05-12

  Rediscovering Nature

  When I graduated high school, I moved to a different side of Houston, TX. I was quite reserved in my new environment. This was in part because the environment was a bit rough in some parts. However, once the pandemic took place, I decided to explore my surroundings a bit more. I discovered overall, the area was quite nice. In the process of exploring my environment; I decided to check out a park that was five minutes from my house. I had been to this park as a child because of it's proximity to the city's zoo. But, I never went as an adult. The park I discovered, which is known locally as Hermann Park was one of the best discoveries I ever made in my life. This park became my escape. My place of peace. A safe space away from the hustle and bustle of everyday city life. The sensecape was pleasant. The sounds of the birds chirping blissfully while watching a squirrel crawl up a tree brought me to a place of internal calmness I had never experienced before. I enjoyed lying between the trees either in my hammock or laying out on my blanket gazing at the sunset and enjoying the peace and tranquility of the inconspicuous indistinguishable sound of people talking who were coming and going.
• 
  2020-04-25

  Cannot Hear You Anymore

  The ability to hear, the ability to speak, the ability to process what has been said and respond. All of these changed for me in my classroom because of COVID. First the students went totally away, silence, and not the comforting restorative kind, but the absence of those that have become part of me. Suddenly gone silent. After some time they return but not near enough. Talking and hearing through masks obscures and diffuses the words. Can you please repeat that, repeated over and over again. Words cannot get through the first time. Or the second. Frustration sets in and lingers even now. Lack of hearing becomes a lack of understanding and lack of empathy. Habits of caring and concern atrophy. I have endless patience with my students, less so for the rest of my fellow man. The man that refuses to wear a mask across the aisle on a flight home, telling me to shut up when I request that he cover his face. Maybe he can hear, but just refuses to. The relative that isn't vaccinated but still wants to come to the funeral and risk others. They cannot hear my wisdom, though they might tell you that I cannot hear theirs. The masks come off but still the hearing does not return. The classroom starts to normalize, but the rest of the world does not.
• 
  2020-12-08

  Teaching Middle and High School Virtually in the Pandemic

  I taught both middle and high school during the pandemic, which required virtual learning. I lived with a roommate and both of us couldn’t teach at the same time in the same room, so I taught exclusively from the floor of my walk-in closet. I sat on the floor of that 5’x3’ closet every work day for 9 months. The carpet was scratchy and my legs would often fall asleep from sitting in one place too long. I often woke up just before class started at 7:30AM and was groggy. Many of us ate breakfast during first period. The thing that bothered me most however was the silence. The only sound of class was me, talking. My lecture, my out loud readings for accommodated students, and my replies to students typing in the chat were the only things I heard for 5-6 hours of the day. There were none of the usually noises I associate with my job: idle chatter from every corner of the room, tapping of pencils, the pencil sharpener, a student blowing their nose, clicking of pens, hoody zippers, crinkling paper, students moving around in their chairs, chip bags opening, metal water bottles falling on the floor and a student yelling “foul” afterwards, occasional shouting, crying, and groaning. Students very rarely, if ever, turned on their cameras or mics to talk to me. I surely was isolated more than the average remote worker; yes, I talked all day, but it felt like it was talking to no one. I don’t have much tangible evidence to show from the pandemic. Frankly, I didn’t do anything noteworthy of documenting. The three pictures attached are from the beginning of the pandemic, around December 2020. Google Meets hadn’t quite caught up to some of their pitfalls technologically and teachers had to “kick out” each student manually, and when 7-10 of your students are AWOL, it can get tedious. I started to make up dumb games and sing songs to entertain myself, please enjoy my new line to the Oompa Loompa song. You can see that all the students are just icons—no faces, no voices. For reference, I have attached two videos of the end of the school year from before the pandemic. You can hear how loud the classroom is with all the students talking to each other, or playing games and dancing to music. After seeing these small clips, you can understand just how soul-destroying it was to teach to a bunch of digital circles who made no noise.
• 2020-03-23

  Solid Wall of (No) Sound

  I was a college student during the initial phases of the pandemic. Classes were moved to all online, and I moved out of the dorm back home, since most of the campus was closed. My most distinct memory of the time is of walking my dog on the first Monday morning of the lockdown. The world was so still. The only soft noises that could be heard were birds chirping and squirrels chittering to each other as they ran around. I lived right next to a major road, so the sudden silence was almost oppressive. That vacuum of sound was the loudest thing I heard on the walk, and it came with the sudden awareness that the area I was walking in was completely alien to the one I had grown up in. I have visited home again since then, but have been completely unable to ever capture that eerie feeling again. It felt special, like a completely ethereal place in time that would never be recreated again.
• 
  2020-04

  Sudden Change to the Nature of Library Work

  This story shows how pandemic radically changed workplace experience, including sensory memories, for my occupation as a library worker in Washington County Utah in April 2020.
• 
  2020-05-29

  Water, Water, Everywhere

  Looking back at 2020, and thinking about what event(s) really tapped into my senses, I needed to look back at all the pictures and videos I took throughout that year. After doing so, I noticed a common theme: water. Seeing, hearing, and touching water was a common theme for my whole family. My little ones learned that year, that it's fun to splash in puddles after a big rain storm. They learned that our wonderful state (Michigan) has some pretty awesome beaches. We also started making a point to visit local nature preserves. One we found had a giant river running through it. We found a spot to safely dip our toes and let the water wash over them, while sitting quietly and listening to the calming sounds of the river flow. The video I've attached to this is of the rain chain that runs down the side of my house. I love sitting outside when it's warm and just listening to the water trickle down. I will sit quietly, with my eyes closed, and just enjoy the calming sounds of the rain flowing down the chain. I couldn't immediately remember when I started sitting on my porch and doing this, and then it dawned on me that it started the spring of 2020 (first spring of the pandemic). When life was forcibly slowed down on us, I found myself really enjoying the sounds that nature provides, specifically, water. In a time of such stress and uncertainty, the sounds of flowing water were (and still are) so therapeutic.
• 
  2020-03-06

  Liberated Seas

  I was working as a deck hand on a ship in the South Pacific at the threshold of the global pandemic lockdown. There are myriad sensations a sailor knows on any given day: the varying strength, temperature, and sound of the wind or the feel of the sun or its absence. Yet what struck me that day was an absence of the usual boat traffic and the distinctive sounds of powerful breaths punctuating the rush of sea on the hull. In the relative unusual scarcity of ships to threaten them with injuring or fatal collisions, migrating whales had gathered on the surface in unusual numbers. The usual dull roar of the maritime roar had been replaced by throaty deep breaths. The puffing sound of them exhaling in choir as they rose from the azure depths surrounded us, as the captain ordered for the ship to slow and halt. A pod rested on the waves, surrounding us. One can project human attributes on animals, but the whales are sentient beings and their breaths did sound like sighs of relief in the absence of any ships besides ours. The captain cursed at the delay but artificial sense of time of course was a human construct that seemed so dwarfed then by those giant breaths, a reminder of the primal rhythms of the sea and that we were ultimately an invasive species humbled by a virus and the natural power of the ocean.
• 
  2021-04-08

  Cocomelon or Blippi

  In the early stages of COVID, I was in Utah finishing up my Bachelor’s. Finally, after reuniting with my sister’s family in Washington, not only did I have a hard time adjusting to the noise, I had to deal with the 24/7 nonstop routine of my nieces and nephews watching either Cocomelon or Blippi. We can’t even have a movie night because the kids will end up crying to change the movie to Cocomelon or Blippi. Night and Day, my nieces and nephews would be singing to the nursery rhymes on Cocomelon or the opening song of Blippi. Although there were times when I would get annoyed or frustrated watching the same thing on the television, I am grateful for these moments. After spending many years on my own, I am thankful and blessed to be with my family during these times. In the end, it became a routine for me and my nieces and nephews to watch Cocomelon or Blippi in the evening. Not only do I get to see their sweet smiles, but I also get to hear their cute little chuckles and laughter while singing “The Wheels On The Bus” or spelling Blippi’s name. The noise that I once had a hard time adjusting to and the overbearing sound of the nursery rhymes from cocomelon or blippi's name did not matter as their sweet laughs and chuckles filled the house every evening making COVID quarantine bearable.
• 
  2022-02-01

  Patio Sounds

  I never heard the sounds of my backyard and cared – now, it is my favorite sound, and my patio is my favorite place to work. I work in education, in March of 2020 our campus went virtual, and we began to work from home. My two kids, age 3 and 6 were home with me as well. Fast forward to today February 2022, our campus is still working virtually, however my kids now age 5 and 8 are away at school for 6 hours a day; this is the first time in my work history I have been able to work from home, and the first time I have been able to work kid free in two years. Prior to the pandemic, I was a busy person, work, school, kids, home, husband, dog – I did it all – what I didn’t do, was stop and listen to the peace I literally had in my backyard. Now, I sit on my patio from 9:00am to 3:00pm, rain or shine, and even though I am working, I listen and take it all in, I feel recharged to take on all my daily tasks. The calm and quiet time on the patio is much welcomed in the hustle and bustle life can become. Listening to the bird’s chirp, leaves rustle, dogs bark, sometimes the hum of a hummingbird, or the light drops of rain – it is therapeutic. The pandemic has been many things, but for me it has given me time to discover the peace the sounds around me can bring. This recording was taken on my patio, listening to the sound of my backyard as I wrote this description, appreciating the time I have.
• 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.
• 
  2020-03-13

  Last Costco run before shutdown

  It was two days after the NBA had shut down and the first day our school district had shut down. Not sure about what was to come next (and honestly pretty scared to go) I took on last trip to Costco to buy supplies for the lockdown of unknown duration that was about to begin. The scene was chaos, with the lines running the full length of the store. The most eerie part, though, was someone who decided to “play us off” in a sort of Titanic-style farewell to our old life. Having endured the line for longer than I can remember, I chose to record the moment (which I felt would be one to remember.
• 
  2020-07

  Silence and Isolation

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

  The Sounds of What is Lost

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

  A New Normal

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

  Clean Hands and Empty Spirits

  This story is a small snapshot into how I felt mentally, and smelled, heard, and touched physically during April 2020. It talks about how the smells and noises around me at the time contributed to my worsening mental state and the feeling of hopelessness. This is important to me because it was this time that I learned that I am mentally stronger than I think and that I can get through rough patches with the help of my husband. It was not a fun experience, but I grew from it.
• 
  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.
• 
  2021-05-04

  My Dreammmmmm

  This was an assignment in Paula Flynn's 5th grade class at Franklin Elementary School in Santa Monica, CA. Universal Studios Color everywhere, and many people swarming around The sun shining on all of our faces as we wait in line The sounds of people whooping and hollering as they go on rides The smells of the giant donuts in Simpson Land. I enjoy spending the day at an awesome amusement park When will I go again? Universal Studios
• 
  2020-03-01

  Daily life at an Air Force Major Command

  Daily life at Head Quarters (HQ) Air Force Global Strike Command (AFGSC) before COVID-19 and its restrictions was full of sounds and constant movement. It was customary to walk the halls and hear keypads beeping, and door locks clicking or overhear conversations as you pass people in the halls. Meetings were full of people, and the subtle roar of conversation was only stopped by the entrance of a General officer or other meeting chairpeople. As the restrictions for COVID-19 began to roll across the country, AFGSC was quick to implement them. First came a stop movement for personnel and a restriction of movements. There would be no or severely limited Permeant Change of Stations, and all temporary duty (TDY) was canceled for the foreseeable future. All personnel was to limit their office spaces to allow for six feet of distances and, if not capable of initiating telework procedures (which was an accomplishment in itself). This was the moment that life changed at HQ AFGSC. There would be fewer beeps and clicks. There would be no hallway conversations overheard because the hallways were nearly empty on a day-to-day basis. There were no more in-person meetings resulting in the muting of the subtle roars of conversations and the sudden silences created as meetings started. However, there was a new element created from COVID-19, a smell everywhere you went. Cleaning and self-sanitization ramped up at AFGSC. Every office you entered now had a hand sanitization station on a post or a wall. The restrooms and common areas cleaning increased, resulting in a lasting scent of bleach and other strong cleaners. But still, the most surprising thing was the silence that COVID-19 created in an ordinarily bustling Command.
• 
  2021-01-16

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

  The story I uploaded is about people crossing the United States Calexico CA port of entry before and after the pandemic.
• 
  2020-05

  The Sound of Silence

  The experience I am sharing focuses on my sense of hearing. Work has shifted away from office buildings and into our homes and, as a result, downtown urban areas emptied. This was especially true in mid-May of 2020. The one time I was in my city's downtown, it was uncomfortably quiet, and the negative reaction I had in the moment caught me off guard. Covid19 put me in a constant state of anxiety, and this is one more example of how seemingly small differences in a familiar environment can turn us upside down.
• 
  2020-10-11

  Limited capacity

  I want to a Dallas Cowboys in October at AT&T Stadium were they were allowing in-person audiences with “limited capacity” and with masks. When I want to the stadium that has a capacity of over hundred thousand only twenty percent was allowed. As I sat in the stadium to watch the game, a roaring crowd took on a different meaning to audible sensory experiences. That is to say, because of the lack of fans crowd noises were piped in to emulate a hundred thousand people cheering. This was done to give fans a game feeling although we knew this noise was manufactured. Although this noise was piped in, yet it never felt like a real game. The COVID-19 pandemic and my trip to the Dallas game had many effects on my senses as it relates to “limited capacity.” One, it caused my audible senses to now have to distinguish real from manufactured. Second, it made me further appreciate sounds of cheering and the silence of disappointment. Lastly, it made me realize that although visual sensory and memory plays a major part in our life experiences, audible sensory is just as important to us especially because the pandemic circumstance causes disruption in our lives.
• 
  2021-01-14T18:43:30

  The Sounds, Smells, and Experiences of a COVID Graduation

  As the year 2020 ushered in my family and I had many events we were looking forward to, one event was my son’s high-school graduation. Once COVID hit his ceremony got postponed, and then it was turned into a drive-thru graduation ceremony. I felt happy my son’s graduation ceremony was still happening, but sad for both my son and me too. Since, my son would miss out on the traditional aspects of a high-school graduation ceremony, and I felt sad for myself because I did not get to attend my own high-school graduation; so it had meant a lot to me to see him experience what I did not get to at a traditional high-school graduation ceremony. On the day of my son’s drive-thru graduation ceremony, I was driving and my hands were dry and slippery from the hand sanitizer, I constantly put on for protection from COVID, both factors therefore made it hard to focus totally on the visuals of the event; and also impacted my ability to get a lot of video and pictures at the event. These circumstances I feel made me fixate on all the sounds and smells just as much as the visuals in front of me while experiencing the graduation. While waiting in the car line to get to the graduation stage the graduation speeches were streamed from a local radio station. The speeches I heard given by chosen student speakers referenced at times the sadness they felt due to the senior events cancelled due to COVID. When usually speakers at graduations express sadness, but the class of 2020 had a unique sadness and that is the effects COVID had on their senior year. As my son and I approached the commencement stage we both put our masks on, the smells of my car were replaced by the stale air I breathed within my mask that I had become all too familiar with since the start of COVID. My son got out of the car to walk across the commencement stage. The sounds I heard from the car were kind of distant, and made me feel like I was watching the ceremony from a different location. At the end of the day, while watching my son walk across the graduation stage, all my feelings and different observations before the event subsided and I felt nothing but proud of my son. Along with I felt grateful for the people who put together the graduation, for some of the unique sensory experiences I may not have focused on as much in pre-COVID times, and for the event since it could have been canceled because of COVID. If anything COVID implications provided many unique aspects to my son’s graduation ceremony that may come to give more meaning to it in the long run then a traditional graduation ceremony. The video clip I submitted is one of a few captured memories I have of the graduation; and it’s an example of the distant sounds of the graduation I heard while viewing it from my car.
• 2021-01-12

  Voices No Longer Heard

  In my line of work, which is construction management and execution, communication is key. Often, this begins and ends with emails, phone calls, and the occasional zoom chat to set a project up. However, once work commences, field superintendents meet daily with clients to discuss progress, delays, opportunities for improvement, and at times, complaining. Morning meetings are at the heart of the daily communications, and have always taken place at 7:30 am, with fifteen to twenty people present. From January 2020 thru the middle of March 2020, morning meeting went as they had in the past. At times, with so many in the room, expressing their ideas, it can be difficult to keep track of what is being talked about. In my role, I attend one or more of these meetings, at different jobsites, throughout the week. As Covid safety precautions took hold towards the end of March, I noticed that the meetings I attended were quieter. This was partially due to masks being worn. Whenever someone chose to speak, their voice, which had been loud a week or so prior, was now muffled and subdued. Additionally, people spoke no more than was necessary, the meetings were shorter than they had been. Gradually, power points were introduced on a screen each day so that talking was not necessary. Instead, the bosses laid out the schedule, expectations, and those in the room simply took notes. By the end of April, the morning meeting changed over to Zoom Chat, with everyone in their office, staring at a screen which displayed those same power points, saying very little or nothing at all. By this point, with social distancing in full-force, there was no need to speak. Notes were made by a Project Engineer containing key points and emailed to attendees after the conclusion of the daily Zoom. Suddenly, there was no face to face conversation, fewer phone calls, and increased emails. With masks across our faces, everyone continued their work in an eerie silence. The robust workplace, full of ideas and plans which must be heard, faded into blank stares saying nothing. With the New Year, I did not expect any change. It would be difficult to say when practices that existed only a year ago might return. This morning, I logged into Zoom for a pre-construction meeting, I was met with the same silence I heard just before the Thanksgiving holiday.
• 
  2021-01-11

  The Changing Sounds of Public Education During the Covid-19 Pandemic

  My wife and I are both public educators at Hamburg Area High School, a rural school district in Berks County, Pennsylvania. The Covid-19 pandemic has caused our district to fluctuate between in-person and virtual instruction. During virtual days teachers have been encouraged to teach from home to mitigate the risk of exposure to the virus. I conduct my American History classes from the office in our home, while my wife, a music teacher, performs virtual music lessons with her students in our dining room. This shift to virtual teaching from home has caused my classroom, which is usually quite traditional, to sound much different. While I attempt to educate my students on the finer points of American History, the sounds of young (and often struggling) musicians fill the air. Meanwhile, my two dogs also interject into class as they battle over toys and pillows. The Covid-19 pandemic has not only moved the location of public education, but also changed the way that education sounds. I recorded the following audio clip while my 3rd period AP US History class was studying primary source documents on the post-Civil War Reconstruction time-period (1865-1876) on Monday, January 11th.
• 
  2020-10-16T23:30

  Friday night out during Covid

  I am a server at a Chili's in Tempe Arizona. Covid has changed many things about my day to day life and work. The restaurant scene has changed a lot as well. This recording was from the restaurant on a Friday night about 30 minutes before closing at midnight. Pre-Covid I would be cleaning tables and finishing up some cleaning to get out of there but as you can hear, the place was still buzzing. Since Covid began numerous bars and late night establishments have closed and thus Chili's a relatively safe chain restaurant that was able to withstand closure has taken some of that business in Tempe. Peoples normal dining cycles seem to have also changed a bit and becoming more random. Normal lunch and dinner times matter less when everyone is working from home and night outs with friends are more rare.
• 
  2020-10-14

  Driving to Apartment

  The audio recording are the sounds of my car and the cars around me as I drive home after another day at work on Dover AFB. I could explain and explore all the things that COVID impacted on the base as well as in regards to deployments, missions, and military/civilian personnel, but that will have to be a separate COVID story for another time. As for my car ride, the audio highlights one of the most confusing things about human behavior for me during the pandemic. Where was everyone going? Majority of businesses were closed. Visitation to family and friends were greatly discouraged. The beaches were closed. All the states around us were closing their borders. Yet, people were driving all about the roads like the COVID wasn’t going to stop them from being somewhere. Don’t get me wrong, the base was still open and I was still going to work. Also, a good portion of the people living in or around Dover were military or military families. Still, traffic around me didn’t ever seem to really slow down or make sense connection to the pandemic. In fact, the closer you got to the base, the worse the traffic became because the base had closed all their gates but one. This meant that everyone who needed to be on base to work or go to medical (not much was open at the start of COVID and things are slowly working their ways back to somewhat “normal” hours) had to go through a singular gate. I would sit in my car for almost an hour, listening to my music and the music of the cars around me as I waited impatiently for my wheels to a spin a few more inches forward. In some ways, this audio clip reveals something special about the history of the pandemic. The audio and my story attached to it showcases not only the human nature to adapt, but also humanity’s resiliency to sustain a way of life. At the same time, pandemic unveils our values and driving force. For instance, were those driving around the pandemic going to work for monetary value? Were they driving to see loved ones through a window? Maybe they were driving just to have a purpose? Or they just trying to escape the confines of the sanctuary of their home? Was it about politics? This also brings about the question of fear. Fear of being alone. Fear of confinement. Fear of death. Fear of boredom. Fear of lost freedom.
• 
  2020-03-13

  Lackluster ambience

  I have been a fan of professional wrestling for years. It is a bit like watching a soap opera with elite athletes doing the occasional insane acrobatic stunt. While it may not technically be a sport, it can be very entertaining. Part of that entertainment is a raucous crowd cheering for their favorite wrestler or booing the antagonist. It is also when someone pulls off an Olympic level move and the crowd explodes. Now, there is no crowd. Due to COVID-19 the wrestlers no longer play to a live audience. To bring back some of the ambience missing from their absence, WWE (and some other forms of live entertainment) have instituted workarounds like digital fans on screens and fake crowd noise. Before that though, there was nothing. Just a complete absence of fans. Their silence was deafening and the events awkward. This is a recording of one such event, Smackdown, March 13, 2020. Two wrestlers, a referee, and three announcers all performing a play to no audience. There is a marked difference. WWE announcers are known for being loquacious, but in this their banter has an almost desperate edge to cover up the missing element of the fans. And not just the announcers. The referee and the wrestlers seem to be talking both more and louder. Even with all that there is still a very noticeable missing element of ambience. It is interesting to me how much they have to try to cover up the sound of silence.
• 
  2020-10-15

  Surviving the Apocalypse

  I live in nice town in the Eastbay about twenty miles from San Francisco. Its population is around 70,000 and its downtown is home to dozens of restaurants and high-end retail stores. On the afternoon of March 16th of this year Governor Gavin Newsom ordered all non-essential businesses shutdown and locked down. The next morning I took a walk downtown only to find that the normally busy streets were deserted. It felt like I was one of the last people on earth. The normal sounds were all but gone and it sort of felt like an episode from the Walking Dead. For the next couple weeks and eventually months I walked downtown every day and sat on a bench reading a book. The business that I used to work at was deemed non-essential, so I was initially furloughed. Over time people gradually began venturing out and some of the familiar sounds returned such as people talking and the noise of traffic. Two months into the pandemic almost all of the businesses in my town were still closed. On my daily walk one afternoon I noticed something odd. As I looked up from my book, I noticed a large convoy made up of dozens of vehicles racing into the retail shopping district. Once there the drivers parked their cars and people began pouring out. Within a few minutes there were a couple hundred people breaking into and looting the closed retail stores. The towns relatively small police force was caught by surprise and within a half an hour almost every high-end retail store in town was cleaned out. There was no protest involved it was simply a coordinated raid. The next day on my walk downtown I noticed that every business in town had been boarded up and all the people were gone again. A little later in the pandemic the California wildfires began. I continued my walks with the constant smell of smoke in the air. On many days the sun was completely blocked out by smoke. The massive fires created a weird atmospheric condition. The smoke hovered at about 5,000-10,000 feet and it was as dark as night on some days but there was relatively little smoke at ground level. Now about seven months after the lockdowns began things are returning to normal and I still walk downtown every day.
• 
  2020-10-15

  Patients without voices

  COVID-19 has changed many aspects of our lives, one that I would have never thought was using a mask in public. I began my Air Force career as a surgical technician in 1992. Wearing a mask was part of the job. The mask was worn to protect the patients, we did not want to breathe germs onto the surgical site. It had secondary a secondary purpose as well, to protect us from the patients' bodily fluids. Though talking was allowed in the surgical suite it was limited and the distance between the team was usually less than a few feet. We also learned to use hand gestures to communicate with each other, for instance if a surgeon was suturing and wanted us to cut the suture she or she would use the index and middle fingers to mimic scissors cutting. In 2008 found myself in Iraq, this time I had to shield my face not because I was in an operating room but because the sand storms. The mask allowed me to venture outside the facilities for limited periods of time during the storms. As medical professionals, depending on where you work, the use of masks is not something new. What is new is that now the patients are wearing masks. At first glance this might not seem like much of an issue, occasionally patients would have to wear masks as well. As most of us have noticed, communication has been hampered with the use of masks. It is harder to here, muffled voices, it is harder to differentiate between similar words/sounds, and we cannot use the use or other senses to assist us such as sight. In addition patients whom might have difficulty breathing have a harder times breathing by wearing masks. It is imperative the communication between the patient and a clinician is flawless. If hearing is impaired or words are mistaken the consequences can be deadly. COVID-19 Has caused us to slow things down even further, we must double check and sometimes triple check to make sure we collected the correct information. We need to listen to what they are saying without the aid of their faces. Deaths caused by medical errors are a major concern for all, now add a barrier that is foreign to most patients and those errors can become even more common. Now I find myself in Biloxi, MS and in some strange way everyone became an OR Tech, we are all wearing masks. On a serious note, may we all learn and grow from this experience and not let it go to waste.
• 2020-10-14

  An Empty Theater

  Every year for the last 20 years, our community has planned, practiced, and performed a tribute to Broadway in a production called "Best of Broadway". We have a cast of over 100 local community members that sing and dance to 20 or so different Broadway songs. Our rehearsals are in an old Veterans Memorial building that comes to life during January to March with our songs, lights, and energy. The chants in the hall echos against the old walls, the stomping of feet on the stage threatens those downstairs, and the beat of the music pumps your heart. When one is in the hall, they are guaranteed to hear laughter in the back corner, a director shouting at the sound guy, and a piercing squeal in the speakers. The sounds in the hall define the busy enthusiasm of the cast and crew. However, this year, our production was shut down the day before our opening night due to Covid-19. The heartbreak of working for months on a show that was cancelled was devastating. After our annual production, we always have a day to clean and put our props and costumes away and clean the hall. But, this year, we just...left. The hall remains filled with our Broadway stuff. And when someone walks into the building, the silence of a show that was never performed is deafening.
• 
  2020-05-17

  Time to Watch Calcio

  I'm not one to watch sports, but I do love futbol, or calcio as my favorite Italians call it. During the pandemic, as professional sports have been cancelled, and then gradually brought back in, my husband and I added ESPN+ to our streaming in order to watch SERIE A finish the 2020 season (albeit late) and then recently start again. Doing so has brought a sort of life to our home lockdown. We both love hearing the sounds of the games in the background and cheering on our favorite teams. New this year as a result of the pandemic are the club's choices as to how (or if) they add in dubbed sound, and getting used to that has been interesting. Some might filter in synthetic crowd noises (which hasn't been as bad as I would have thought). Where there has not been any sound, the feel of the game is definitely not the same, however now it is interesting to follow the players and coaches' communication firsthand. My link shares an article in which a few of the team members from my favorite team, Parmia Calcio, were recently diagnosed with COVID and what occurred following.
• 
  2020-04-09

  Food Storage Sourdough Bread

  The pandemic caught me unprepared in many ways. I did not expect to run out of flour or yeast. I regularly bake rolls, muffins, cookies, and other treats several times a week. Just a day before New York shut down, I was at my local wholesale club stocking up on freezer items and canned goods, but could not find yeast or flour. The flour and yeast shortage was real and lasted for months in New York. Sourdough bread recipes started to circulate and I realized it was time to break out our food storage. As a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, I have approximately a year's worth of dry canned whole wheat in my basement. My husband started the sourdough starter. As a the scientist in our family, I figured he would be up to the challenge of experimenting with a starter. After two weeks of tending his starter, he pulled out the wheat grinder. The grinder loudly screamed through the house as a fine flour sifted through the blades. A warm, homey smell settled in the kitchen. Then, he set about making the bread--a twenty-four hour affair. The tang of the starter smelled promising. The last hour of baking we smelled the rich smell of the bread baking in the hot oven. When he pulled it out, we could hardly wait to taste it. The jagged dark crust had the hallmarks of an artisanal loaf of bread. It smelled so good, earthy and hearty. After it cooled, he sliced the bread, cracking through the rough crust into the perfectly textured inside. The flavor was perfectly tangy, with a gorgeous whole wheat texture. Before the pandemic, my husband worked long hours at his lab and would never have had the time to make a loaf of bread that required so many steps and 24 hours. And before, we never had the need to make a starter or to use our food storage wheat.
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  2020-05-13

  The Sounds of a Health Pandemic

  Music Professor examines the media's use of sound and music to portray the health pandemic
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  2020-03-10

  An Argument Over Toilet Paper

  A customer left behind a package of toilet paper, where another customer picked up and decided to check out. The customer realized that "his" toilet paper was gone and wanted it back, arguing with the cashier. It was the last package in the store.