Items

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  2021-02-16

  A Journey for the Jab

  With the start of 2021, I was excited for the prospect of the vaccines that were starting to get rolled out. I knew at the beginning that I would be one of the firsts to get it because I was a teacher in Texas, where we had only had 3 weeks of online school, and the rest of the year had been in person. That high risk meant that by the end of January, the first week teachers were allowed to get the first shot, I signed up at the nearest hospital who had the Pfizer vaccine. The first one went without a hitch, with barely some soreness in my arm in the week following. It is the second shot that was a bit derailed. The week I was supposed to get my second shot, Texas was hit by one of the worst snow storms we have ever faced, and millions lost power. My apartment had rolling black outs the first day, and my apartment became colder and colder. My partner and I initially thought to stick it out, piling cover after cover of blankets and huddling close for warmth. Then, at 6PM that night, the power went out and never came back and we were driven into darkness and the cold seeped into our bones. We made the decision to suffer the cold, icy roads, and the long journey to my partner’s parents’ house, which had not lost power. We packed up the food in coolers, feeling for what may have spoiled during the blackouts, and feeling for what remained cold and frozen. We shoved as much as would fit and headed out. The drive is normally only 35 minutes, but with no snow tires and ice everywhere, we could not travel more than 30 miles an hour. As we reversed out of our spot, you could immediately feel the tires lose their traction and hear them spin loosely over the ice that had gathered under the truck. As we began our journey, the heater finally began blasting our faces with air that slowly began to warm up, and started the long process of thawing our frozen limbs. Two hours on this slow trek, constantly worried about sections of black ice, and losing control of tires, both ours and others, but we finally made it to their home. The first thing we noticed when we entered through their door was the strong smells of hot chocolate being prepared on the stove. The next day, when my appointment was set for the second dose of the vaccine, I called and asked if they were still giving the vaccine or if I should reschedule, and was told that I would lose my spot if I rescheduled because they only had so many doses at this time and did not want to have any go to waste. My partner’s parents decided to drive all of us to the hospital. Several times on this trip, we heard the squeal and slam of cars losing control of their cars and careening into one another. We all held our breaths at each close encounter, and did not realize until we reached the hospital how we had all clenched our bodies in tension. It was not until we pulled into the parking garage that I heard all of us let out a collective sigh of relief. I went in for my second shot as the family stayed on the first floor, waiting out of the cold but away from the mass of bodies huddling to be let into the hospital. Inside, I quickly walked down the hall, not wanting to make my partner and his family have to wait too long for me, and I was gently guided through the path by the volunteer staff. Because of the cold, I had worn three long sleeve layers, and found after much stretching that it was not possible for the nurse to get at my arm to receive the shot. Feeling the burn on my cheeks in embarrassment, as I had to publicly remove the top to layers, and pull my bottom shirt over my head. The cold of the room chilled my body, and I had to stop myself from shivering. With the second shot complete, and as I headed to the room to wait the required 20 minutes to make sure I did not have any immediate reaction to the shot, I was stopped dead in my tracks when I saw my partner and his family being ushered into the room. My partner was not yet eligible for the shot, and we both had had arguments with his parents about the shots, since they didn’t believe in needing them. I later found out that a nurse had been looking in the hospital lobby for anyone who hadn’t had their shots to come up because they had 5 extra shots that would be expiring if no one received them soon. Somehow, my partner in that split moment where they were being given this golden opportunity, shouted yes for all of them, and began shoving his parents down to the room before they could protest. Once we had all piled back into the truck after all four of us received our shots, we went home as quickly as we safely could. Though I had had no reaction to the first shot, this second dose threw me for a loop. That night, the chills began. Even as the house had its heat blasting on full, and I was sitting as close to the fireplace as I could safely sit, my teeth could be heard chattering across the living room. My head began pounding, and I fell into a deep sleep an hour later. Thankfully, the cold was gone from my body when I awoke the next morning, and two days later, the snow had melted enough, and our power was restored to return home. The pandemic has induced so much fear and anxiety in all of us over these last two years, have really made me so much more aware of those around me, but for me, when I think about the vaccines, and the reluctance of those who can receive them but don’t, I think about the treacherous journey I was forced to make to get mine. I think about the cold. I think about the squealing tires. I think about how terrible I felt after my second dose. And I also think about the relief at knowing that all of this awfulness led to my partner’s parents suddenly getting vaccinated. For that alone, I would experience the fear of the snowstorm once again.
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  2021-01-02

  A Journal from Mandatory Hotel Quarantine

  This here is the journal entry I wrote on my first night in 14-day mandatory hotel quarantine at the Northern Territory’s Howard Springs Quarantine Facility in January 2021. At this time, in an effort to control the spread of covid, movement between many Australian states and territories required mandatory hotel quarantine upon arrival. For many, including myself, this process was filled with anxiety and uncertainty. Yet simultaneously, a sense of excitement and adventure. This journal entry gives insight into the complexities of emotions associated with the Australian Covid-19 Hotel Quarantine System. HIST30060
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  2021-01-25

  An atmospheric river could dump 10 feet of snow in California’s Sierra Nevada

  This article from the Washington Post discusses the possibility of snowstorms in the Sierra Nevadas at the end of January 2021. The article specifically mentions that the Sierra Nevada could see up to ten feet of snow. The article also forecasts the possibility of 80-mile-per-hour winds in California's eastern mountains. These storms turned out to be real and damaged Camp Wolfeboro's infrastructure.
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  2021-05-07T10:15

  Personal Pandemic History of Erin Holley

  I decided to share her story because we wrote a paper in school that I thought was good.
• 2020-11-25

  Pandemic Poetry, Poem: Untitled

  "1816 has been described as "The Year Without a Summer." For me, 2020 has been like "The Year Without a Year." It has been like being in "Limbo," a year of Purgatory, the "Trump Bardo" - that intermediate state where you weather a s**t-storm of hypocrisy, lies, and disease before passing on to the next level of existence. How do I weather it? With humor, a lyrical outlook, exercise, perseverance, and family." -Dan Nave
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  2020-10-27

  COVID in Rural Wisconsin

  This submission goes into detail from a front line worker on why rural Wisconsin is hit so hard when it comes to COVID, it is important because there are so few voices coming out of this part of the United States.
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  2020-09-09

  I Stood Beneath An Orange Sky

  Amidst the COVID-19 pandemic, August 2020 brought devastating wildfires to the state of California. Many of the Northern California fires were started as a result of the lightning produced during a massive - and rare - summer thunderstorm. The week leading up to the storm, I questioned the reliability of weather information as I had never experienced a severe summer storm in California. The night of the storm, I lay awake in my bed in awe of the sound of the storm. The combination of wind, rain, thunder and lighting produced incredibly loud sounds that lasted throughout the night. My family stayed snug in our beds. But when the storm continued into the morning hours, we decided to sit on our porch to take in the moment. The smell of rain in the summer was oddly refreshing. My kids were jumpy as none of them remember ever hearing thunder before. During a pause in the rain, we were walking between our home and my in-law’s home about 500 yards away from ours. The thunder hit at that very moment. I turned to look at my son and he was completely jumping out of his skin from fear of the thunder. Following each bout of thunder, silent lighting bolts shot across the sky. In the moment, we soaked in the beauty of nature. Little did we know that these beautiful bolts of lightning would cause some of the largest fires in California history. Immediately following the storm, fires spread across the state of California. While COVID-19 has completely changed life as we know it, we have found joy in being able to enjoy the outdoors. At the onset of the fires, even that reprieve was taken from us. I live directly between the SCU Lightning Complex and the LNU Lighting Complex fires, two of the first fires that erupted following the storm. The days immediately following the start of the fires brought record breaking days of heat well over 100 degrees. The hottest I have ever experienced in the San Francisco Bay Area. The region experienced rolling blackouts and even functioning air conditioners were so taxed that they struggled to keep the insides of homes cool. In addition to the heat, the skies were filled with ash. The air was so thick with ash it was difficult to even take a breath when outside. The outdoors, our place of solace, quiet and escape during this pandemic, was no longer an option for us. On September 9, 2020, I woke up and opened my curtains to face a brilliant orange sky. The color of the sky was unlike anything I've ever seen in my life. It truly felt apocalyptic. The air smelled of an extinguished campfire. And the overall feeling was eerie. The weight of the COVID-19 pandemic hit me the day that I stood beneath an orange sky, breathing in the smell of the fires ravaging my beloved state. How did we get here? Will life ever feel normal again? It just can’t get worse, can it? While I stood frozen in place, I heard the sound of birds chirping in the distance. This simple sound gave me the reassurance that I needed. We can do hard things. This too shall pass. I just hope it passes quickly.
• 
  April 16, 2020

  Newburgh IN Hooray Sign of Hope

  These photographs were taken to document some of what people in Evansville and its Tri-State region saw and experienced as the realities of the Covid-19 pandemic came to the area in the spring of 2020. Many of these images represent literal signs of the time, while others figuratively depict signs of the pandemic.
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  2020-04-15

  We are all in the same boat. We are not all in the same storm.

  HUM402 An important reminder that each of us is going to feel differently to the current circumstances based on numerous variables. I have found it's very easy to get caught up in what others seem to be capable of but I'm not comparing apples with apples. My storm is different to theirs and it's ok.
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  2020-04-18

  Trouble

  The silence of the streets is only broken by the scream of the lightening these days