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2022-05-27
This is to describe the sensory changes I experienced when I visited my employer's main office during the lockdown.
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2020-05-17
The warmest April on record, yet we were all stuck inside. The streets usually congested with the honks of angry black cabbies, the loud hum of overused mufflers on double decker buses and the low rumble of the tube running underfoot were silent. The metropolis of over nine million people had come to a standstill. Windows usually closed to protect against the sleet or smog, were opened to quiet clean breezes. London felt serene, almost idyllic, until the piercing siren of an ambulance run would cut through that fairytale.
Before COVID I never paid attention to the St. John’s Ambulance First Aid Training facility on my street, only occasionally seeing the paramedics pop in the Arabic supermarket next door during lunch. As the news was counting the number of days we were in lockdown, I started counting the number of ambulances lining my street; popping my head out the open windows, looking up and down the road. However, sitting in my favorite chair in my flat, back to the window, I could avoid the grim sight, a constant reminder of the reality of the pandemic.
I would take my tea in that purple chair, alternating between endless Netflix shows and books, the church bells across the street the only thing to remind me of time. The warm sun and smog less breeze would join the bells drifting through the open windows. Through the books and shows, I not only escaped COVID but my small London flat. The silence of the city amplifying my imagination, only to be shattered by that first initial scream of the sirens, jolting me back to reality. Willing to sacrifice the warm breeze at my back, I closed my windows to protect my ears and the fantasies I had created. However, the double paned windows, sturdy enough to block out the honks of angry black cabbies, were no match for the sirens.
Unable to even slightly defend against the shock of the sirens when surrounded by the new silence of the city, I learned to live with it. I reopened my windows to let in bells, breezes, and sirens, instead tuning my ear to notice the ambulance’s first turn of the engine to brace for the piercing scream that would soon follow. As the days continued, my ears started to acclimate to this new normal, with each ambulance run making me jump a little less off my chair. Though my body and mind would never accept the sound enough to not to jolt me even from the deepest sleep, as if to remind me that this was anything but normal.
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2020-09-01
One of the most profound sensory experiences I had over the course of the COVID-19 pandemic was the new yet comforting experiences that engaged all the senses of visiting St. Anthony the Great Monestary in Florence, Arizona. My first visit, I stayed for a long weekend. Visitors remaining at the monestary for more than a day are put to work on the grounds, aiding the monks in their daily work. I was put in the kitchen due to my previous experience in a commercial kitchen setting.
The diet at the monastery is remarkably simple; a bean and rice soup, bread, and tangerines grown at the monastery. None of the smells of these foods were new or remarkable to me, but instead this provided an interesting aural experience. The monks pray constantly in everything they do, and kitchen work was no different. Low, repetitive Greek prayers were the only auditory input in the kitchen, aside from the hum of the dishwasher and the clinking of utensils against pots.
Services were held in the early morning, around 3:00am. While making my way from the guests' lodging to the church, I heard a rhythmic wood-on-wood striking, reverberating across the monastery. I saw the source. A monk was striking a wooden board, suspended in the air by two chains, with two wooden mallets. This was essentially the call for the service to start. I later learned from another pilgrim that this practice was adopted by Greeks living in Ottoman-controlled Greece when restrictions on church bells were implemented.
The service itself, too, was a sensory experience unlike any other. Sonorous Byzantine chants, clouds of aromatic incense, all lit by candlelight and a handful of small oil lamps. The sense of touch was also engaged; I felt the wool prayer rope in my hand, each knot a tactile counter for the number of prayers completed. Nearly every sense was full engaged in this temporary and much needed respite from the chaos of the outside world during uncertain times.
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2020-05-01
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.
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2020-04-10
The memories that stick in my head the most durning the pandemic are of the time I spent in my backyard with my partner and our dogs. I couldn't go to work and there was not much to do with my job virtually. I spent my days outside playing with my dogs; and sitting or laying on the grass next to my partner. I would sit in the backyard and feel the warmth of the sun cascading over my body; as I inhaled deeply the warm rush of the marijuana smoke into my lungs. I would walk on the ground barefoot feeling the earth beneath my feet and the grass between my toes. Listening to the birds chirp and the bees buzz by on their way to pollinate the many wild flowers and vegetables we have in our back garden. It was such a peaceful time for my partner and I. We had only bought our house a year or so earlier, and during this time we really started to feel like we settled into this space. Our backyard was our shelter from the world. To juxtapose that with what was happening outside of our sun drenched backyard is the most striking thing about these memory for me. Here we were enjoying a freedom that is seldom experienced in this hyper-capitalist world we live in (the freedom of not working). We were fortunate enough that we could spend our days in the sun with our dogs while the world passed us by. There was a brief moment during this pandemic where we hoped that others would see how capitalism ruins our lives and how much better things could be. It seemed in many ways the earth was healing, we had a brief glimpse into what a ecologically sustainable future could look like, but not only that, we had an opening to see what a life that emphasizes people over profit and leisure over work could be. Unfortunately, that was not going to last and was never meant to. The powers that be needed their profits, and their workers to exploit; and slowly but surely they demanded we risk our lives for their economy. The warmth of the sun and the feel of grass beneath my feet was lost to the grinding gears of the capitalist machine and I'm not sure I'll ever get it back.
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2022-05-27
Sensory Memory for Pandemic Archive
Smell of Clorox wipes
One of the strongest sensory memories I have of the early pandemic months in spring and summer 2020 is the scent of Clorox wipes. During the pandemic, my father, in his 90’s, lived with my children and me in Albuquerque, NM. My dad had numerous health problems I was extremely concerned with his health and well-being.
Early on, when wipes were in short supply, I hoarded the bright yellow canisters, some from the store and some from my son’s dorm room which he had to vacate. I used them daily to wipe the surfaces that we touched the most, such as door handles, the microwave, and refrigerator door and at first, even to wipe down the groceries that I had delivered to avoid going to the store. The scent of bleach with a layer of lemon that the wipes left behind became a satisfying sign—an illusion that I had some control over my family’s safety.
Over time, when evidence of how COVID transmitted became clearer, I used the wipes for my father’s care—his inability to make it to the bathroom sometimes and wiping down the ever-growing stable of equipment Dad needed for daily life: an oxygen machine, lung drain kit, walker, portable commode. My dad passed away of in 2022, and while miraculously none of us ever did contract COVID, the smell of the wipes will always bring me back to that time of fear and uncertainty.
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2020-03
I've always used my hands to shape the world around me. Working with my hands both soothes and stimulates, and it feels good to be productive. I've long been known at work for crocheting or cross stitching (my hands can work at those with little help from my eyes) during boring meetings, as a way to keep myself awake and render fruitful an otherwise pointless meeting.
I have some very talented hands, if I do say so myself. I make jewelry, I quilt, I cosplay (itself honestly probably 10 or so different skillsets), I etch glass, embroider, play deftly with resin, string art, and perler beads. You name it, these very talented hands of mine can probably do it. If they can't, someone on Youtube will show me and I will figure it out. My hands are always busy. At least they used to be. COVID took that from me.
When quarantine hit, that is what was left to me. So that is what I did. Fortunately, crafters are notorious hoarders, so that was one thing I struggled little to find when the shelves at all the stores were bare. Whatever it was, it was already in my craft room. When you couldn't find masks anywhere, me and my loved ones never had to worry. I sewed probably 100 from the leftovers I had from a few of my quilts, fun masks with swirling DNA strands, dinosaurs, and Bat-signals. When we couldn't get toilet paper and mom my had to mail me some from out of state, I sent her a giant cross-stitch of her favorite character (Snoopy) as a thank you for being my toilet paper hero. I didn't stop there though. I had to make videos daily for the kids in my (now) virtual classes. So I went from being the women who crocheted in meetings, to the one who painted herself to look like different characters during meetings. (The first student to comment with who I was dresses as that day only had to do half the day's assignment.) The other meeting participants would periodically make me turn my camera on to check on the progress of my transformation. Crafting was really the only thing left to me, what with lockdowns, my school going virtual, the inability to access basic necessities, and the persistent taboo on leaving the house. Crafting got me through it. I made so many things, simply because I needed to be doing something. I sewed, mod podged, and wire wrapped, papier mached, and glass painted, until every wall and surface in my home (and some in my classroom) were covered. Often I'd have the TV on in the background so I'd have noise for company. I'd craft into the wee hours, because it's not like I could go anywhere in the morning. It got so bad that my housemate (a dear friend and fellow transplant with no family in Arizona, we moved in together a week before COVID struck because neither of us wanted to live alone) Kristen had to stage a crafting intervention of the "No really, we are out of space. For the love of God, knock it off or get an Etsy store" variety. (I then switched to baking because I don't know how to be if my hands are still. I was accused instead of trying to make her fat.)
I crafted until I ran out of things to craft. Thanks to COVID, I squished a lifetimes worth of crafting into a year. Now I'm out of projects. If I wanted it, I made it already. If anyone compliments something I made it is given immediately as a gift to them, so I can then go make myself a new one and my talented hands can be busy again for a minute. I've taken to cross-stitching random things my friends say, just to have something tactile to do. My hands remain as sharp as ever, poised for the next project, but the brain that fired them has run out of steam.
And I still don't know how to be if my hands are still.
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2020-05-12
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.
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2020-04-25
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.
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2022-05-26
When Covid first kicked off, I was in the final months of my undergraduate degree, weeks away from obtaining my B.A. in history from CSU Stanislaus in December 2020. I had made plans to travel and work in Japan, teaching English, doing cultural work, and generally immersing myself into the culture I found so fascinating in my studies. However, the world's shutdown would put an end (or a pause) to this plan. Now working remotely from home, I stayed in my room working on my senior thesis, looking out the window to the often empty street. My family had decided to move, as we had decided years before but loose ends such as my degree were the final threads to be cut. Remote work had given us an unexpected leap in our time-frame, and so in the midst of the Paradise fires, to which I vividly remember the dark orange skies blotting out the sun and the ever present ashy, smoky stench on the air, carried by the warm breeze from the north, we began the process of transitioning our lives to be on the road, and to be resettled in northern Idaho.
For the next year and a half or so we settled in to our new home, however the world was still largely in lock-down, and so I spent most of my time inside or in the basement where I had set up a study space to finish my senior thesis and to earn my degree through my last online semester. It was a self reflective and solitary time, in which I would often take many breaks to venture out my backdoor, which quite literally lead into the forest. Not fifty feet from my home, we have a circle of trees where we would eventually put a fire pit and often sit around together around the warmth on cold nights, talking and sharing fun with one another. When alone however, it serves as an incredible spot to simply sit back and become immersed into our natural world, an amenity I often take advantage of to this day while working on my M.A. through ASU's online program. This audio recording is a sample of that, and in it, you can hear the spring time birds chirping away, the low rumble of the highway just over the mountain, feel the breeze through the trees and the valleys from the lake, and imagine the smell of pine and flowers on the forest floor.
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2022-05
As someone who is very affectionate, the loss of touch throughout this pandemic has been devastating. While hugs, handshakes, fist bumps, and all kinds of other casual touches were second nature before March of 2020, six feet apart became the standard overnight. Greet your friends with an elbow bump, not a hug, and don't get too close because you might get sick. In May 2020, my first nephew was born, and I didn't get to snuggle him for months. It felt like I was missing out on vital connections with him, because I interacted from afar with a mask on.
I live alone, and this loss of touch felt so isolating. You don't realize how important hugs are until you are quarantined alone for weeks and weeks without the touch of another human being.
Now in 2022 as the fear has lessened a considerable amount, the lack of touch still seems to be prevalent in my life. After two years of adjusting to the loss of that particular sense, it feels awkward and forced to show the same affection that used to come easily. It seems like such a silly thing to mourn, the fact that I'm hugging people less. But it's one of those senses that you don't realize the importance of until it's gone. The loss of touch didn't affect everyone, but this completely altered the way I show the people in my life that I care about them.
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2020-06-01
The pandemic was a time of separation for all of us. The two weeks of isolation to lessen the curve turned into months of remaining at home, at least six feet away from friends and loved ones. As an intensely social creature, this was a time of anxiety and loneliness, despite being quarantined with my husband and three children.
The person I missed seeing most was my best friend, Allison. We spoke on the phone daily, and attempted FaceTime (though it felt awkward to both of us). Prior to Covid, we saw each other at least once a day, working closely together to serve our church and meeting at the playground after school with our children.
In April of 2020, we planned a coffee date with our daughters as a way to see each other and get out of the house. We went through the drive-thru line of a coffeeshop, and drove to adjacent parking lot. We parked opposite of each other, climbed into the backs of our SUVs, and had the first "coffee date" in over a month. Seeing my best friend's face, in person, brought me to tears - as did the distance between us. I needed a hug, desperately. As I drove away that day, I wondered when I would ever get to hug someone outside of my immediate household, when I would shake hands with someone, when I could high five my daughters' friends.
In June of 2020, our church cautiously reopened for in-person services. Masks were enforced, and the six-foot rule was heavily encouraged. However, when I was finally in the same room with my best friend, I couldn't maintain the six foot rule. With my mask on and my hands carefully sanitized, I gave her a hug. It was one of the best hugs of my life.
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2022-05-25
Listening to Marketplace on the radio each morning as I arrived at work in mid-January of 2020, I never suspected that what was forcing cancelations of Lunar New Year celebrations in China would leave me with raw hands and ringing ears. At that time, I was working at the Census Bureau for the lead person responsible for on-the-ground execution of the 2020 census in Idaho. The work involved data analysis and strategic planning, as we created and staffed a field operation to complement the Census Bureau’s attempt to transition from the traditional door-to-door canvassing to online self-reporting.
In the early days of the pandemic, we tried to maintain business as usual as we, and most of the country, watched cases rise. When things got bad enough, a mandate from Washington shut down our office for nearly six weeks. When our team was called back, we entered a totally new world. The Census Bureau leadership had mandated a hyper safe work environment and work rules. The office furniture was completely rearranged to create social distance. A six-foot perimeter around every desk was marked on the floor to ensure work interactions took place at a distance. Similarly, walking paths were marked on the floor and one-way traffic was encouraged. Everyone was issued a box of masks and hand sanitizers and soap dispensers were everywhere. The visual was pretty laughable but it is my hands and ears that carry the strongest memories of attempting to work in this environment.
Trying to comply with the guidelines meant more hand washing and sanitizing than one would likely see around an operating room. The government, while trying to be a really good parent, however, had failed to supply hand lotion. Shame on me! I didn’t bring my own and raw, chapped hands became my red badge of courage, and compliance. Additionally, I will never forget the volume in that concrete block room. A room full of people on the phone can be noisy; but social distanced work conversations meant masked people shouting to co-workers as they stood six feet from their desk. It was the definition of cacophony. The work I was doing required a lot of attention to detail and I remember it being so loud at times I could not think clearly. There were time I would go outside to listen to quiet of the traffic on the busy street in front of the office.
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2022-05-23
This biography was created out of a self-directed project from the HST580 class. This biography will be linked to the submissions of the person mentioned in the document and title.
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2020-12-08
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.
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2022-05-23
This biography was created out of a self-directed project from the HST580 class. This biography will be linked to the submissions of the person mentioned in the document and title.
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2022-05-25
Different taxis and companies usually have different protocols posted. More often than not, there is a plastic or fabric divider between the front and back seats. This sign explains the expectations for passengers traveling via taxi in Arequipa, Peru.
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2022-05-25
All guests have to have 3 vaccines and an N-95 or double facemask to enter the mall. The flow of in and out of the mall are still controlled.
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2022-05-25
When the pandemic hit, there wasn't a lot going on in my house. I was living at home, working where I could/when I could (nannying, dog walking) and my parents had recently retired. My parents quickly turned into stereotypical teenagers, spending all day on their phones and iPad, scrolling through Facebook and playing card games electronically. My mom got sucked into a few dog groups on Facebook as she had always wanted a dog in retirement and to train this dog to be a therapy animal. It was her dream to take this dog to schools, hospitals, and nursing homes and provide much needed stress relief and other benefits that therapy animals provided. When I was a kid, we had a smooth collie name Stormy and he was a great family pet. When he passed away when I was in high school, my parents agreed to not get another dog until retirement (mostly my dad's request, my mom could have dogs all her life if it were up to her). Then COVID and there was nothing for my mom to do besides look at dogs on Facebook, specifically smooth collies. After much discussion and pleading by my mom and probably sheer boredom by my dad, my parents decided to get a puppy from Kentucky in July. We named this little one Iko and he came home rambunctious as ever. This brought a host of new senses into the house. First was the sound. Iko was never a big barker, but he did bark as most dogs do. I never saw this as a bad thing. Prior to Iko, there was no lively activity or accompanying noise. Also came the smells of a new dog. Miraculously, Iko came potty trained at 8 weeks (over achieving puppy from the start) but Iko had lots of hair and stirred up a lot of dust, thus making the house smell more like a dog kennel than our house before that was pretty clean (because there wasn't anything else to do during COVID besides clean). The final, and my favorite, sense that Iko brought into the house was the unconditional affection. With a new dog in the house, there were constant pets and puppy kisses which added a huge sensory stress relief to what was going on outside in the world around us. Iko Brough so many senses and such life into our home. He brought the youth out in my retired parents who go on long hikes with him out in the mountains of Utah now. Iko, the smooth coated collie, saved our COVID.
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2022-05-21
This is a local neighborhood market where you can buy fruit, meat, juices, food, toys, keys, and other items. With the pandemic, this water tank and handwashing station was installed to encourage better hand hygiene.
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2020-08-16
In 2020 it was over 100 degrees Fahrenheit (38 + Celsius) in August in the eastern area of San Diego, California. I was working as a delivery driver for Amazon delivering packages around greater San Diego County. Having been about six months into the pandemic, masks were required pretty much everywhere. For health and safety, we were required to wear those masks while delivering.
The picture above shows me wearing one of the masks which is made of cotton and double layered. These masks have a sleeve inside to insert a filter. Elastic strips with a stopper on the end goes around the ears to hold the mask over the nose and mouth. Because this mask irritated my ears, I took a bread wrapper twist and hooked it to the back and tied it so it wouldn't sit on my ears and was instead tied around the back of my head.
This jerry rigged mask led to a tighter fit on my face. This in turn led to sweat and moisture collecting in the fabric of the mask throughout the day which led to an extremely pungent stench because of the sweat, mucus from a runny nose, and stinky breath. The other issue that caused more distress was the soaked mask. Especially on this particularly hot day, I was essentially breathing through a wet rag. Breathing through my mouth was the only option because my nose wasn't strong enough to draw in enough air. Climbing up stairs and up and down drive ways made it more difficult to breath. I had to take intermittent breaks to pull down the mask to get air and breath fresh air. Needless to say, mints, gum, and breath freshener was regularly on hand after this day. Along with lots and lots of water.
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2020-06-01
The pandemic changed so many things about everyday life, and even our food wasn't spared. Not only did the effects of COVID-19 attack our sense of taste, but it even affected those who hadn't contracted it. Going out to restaurants was completely out of the question, and to avoid spending too much money on take-out, my family continued to brave the grocery stores. There was a silver lining, though, because it started to change the way we felt about meals. I spent more time cooking with them back home in Vienna, VA, and now that I live here in Tempe I find a lot of those habits have stuck with me.
I'm especially glad that I started baking more before I left home. Baking was a way to get the whole family together and give each of us something to look forward to that day, in a time when days kind of blended together and none of us knew what to expect. What's more, we'd all heard stories about how early COVID symptoms included loss of smell and taste, so I think there was a small part of me that was reassured by actually being able to taste what we'd all worked on together. I included a brownie recipe that I use a lot with this post, so you can try it if you like and get a taste for how it still offers me some comfort.
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2022-05-24
Like many other people who suddenly found themselves at home for an extended period due to the COVID-19 quarantines I picked up many new hobbies which have now become a part of my normal life. In March of 2020 I suddenly found myself unable to go into nail salons that had been closed as nonessential businesses. I found online advertisements for at-home dip powder nail kits and ordered to materials to turn my living room into a makeshift nail salon to do my own nails. The smell of a nail salon is distinctive, and I found that smell filling my living room every time I did my nails.
Also in March 2020, my office shut down and the entire staff was sent to work from home. At the same time my kids’ school was also closed and they were sent home for virtual classes. My quiet private office at work was traded for my noisy house with dogs barking, teachers teaching over Zoom, and kids in group videos talking with their friends. With all our usual reasons to leave the house gone I found little escape from the chaos that was now a typical day at work in my house. Looking for a reason to get out of the house I took up running. A few days a week I would head outside for a quiet neighborhood run trading in the sounds of Zoom calls with teachers and kids for the occasional neighborhood bird.
Over two years later and life has returned to a version of what we used to call normal. Nail salons are open, I am back to working in my office, and my kids are back to learning in their classrooms. However, some of these hobbies I picked up out of necessity have found their way into my life permanently. I still do my own nails at the house, turning my living room into a nail salon every other weekend. I still go for neighborhood runs a few times a week either before or after a day at the office. While these have become fixtures in my life now, the smell of a nail salon in my living room still reminds me of the earliest quarantine days and when I head out for a quiet neighborhood run, I still recall the peaceful feeling that brought me when life at home was becoming too stressful in 2020.
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2020-05-05
When the COVID-19 virus struck in the spring of 2020, I was still completing my undergraduate degree in history at a small university near the border of North and South Carolina. My university transitioned to online learning around the second week of March. One of my classes that semester was an upper level special topics course on Public History. Seizing the opportunity to document the COVID-19 pandemic for future generations, my course instructor had students to document and journal about our everyday lives in quarantine during the second half of the course as we transitioned online. The above is a video I took for that course of some my friends from back home, where I had returned to live in isolation with my mother, father, brothers, and grandfather; while at home, I would drive about once a week to an empty target parking lot to socialize with some of my friends from the community. We would sit in our cars, spaced at least fifteen feet apart, in order to avoid spreading the virus. Though I was thankful for the opportunity to still see my friends, and to have at least one social outing each week, the sense, or rather lack of sense, that was most prevalent in my mind, and still is when recalling the COVID-19 pandemic lockdowns in the spring of 2020, is not being able to touch my friends. I am a very tactile person, and giving a hug or a handshake to my friends is an important part of expressing my love and feelings for others. Though during the COVID-19 pandemic we were able to communicate by means of modern day technology, such as zoom, and even in cases such as mine due to the state where I lived, still being able to socialize in outdoor areas, the fear of the virus prevented me from being able to express friendship in one of the most natural ways. Though only ten to fifteen feet apart, it was if we had all created an invisible bubble that could not penetrated. Though this was all for good reason, it did not make the psychological implications any less real. The ten feet that separated me from my friends for over two months felt like ten million miles, and my thoughts constantly played tricks on me. I grew accustomed to not touching or being near others. It was in early May, almost two months after returning home from college, that I touched someone outside of my family unit for the first time. A friend of mine who I went to high school with, who also worked on a farm that borders my family's farm, wanted to ride ATV's together. I agreed, and we remained at least six feet distant from one another. We it came time for him to return home, however, he extended his hand to give me a "fist bump." Normally, he probably would have tried to hug me, but even the notion of touching our fists together made me hesitant, though I did return the friendly gesture. The virus had me, and most of society, programmed to remain enclosed to ourselves, and in doing so, though necessary for a time, unable to engage in the most basic of human interactions. Prior to the pandemic, I never had give thought to the importance of touching in my relationships, however, in a post-pandemic world, I will never take for granted the most basic of human interactions, such as touch, because in a moment it could be gone.
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2020-03-23
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.
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2020-05-03
Most people probably don’t think of belly buttons when they think of a pandemic. They likely also don’t think of the South African Activist Miriam Makeba. However, when I consider the earliest days of covid, those days before I realized I would be teaching online for an extended time, or that my Varsity Lacrosse players whom I had coached through their careers would never step on a field for our 2020 season, my life was all about belly buttons and a song called Makeba by a French Singer-Songwriter.
In April of 2020, schools in Michigan closed, sending me home with every other educator to figure out online teaching. Also at this time, my daughter, Edie, was just over one year old. She was very fond of her “Beluh-but’n” (bellybutton) and ran around the house proudly showing hers off, thinking she was hilarious. To her credit, it was hilarious, and also adorable. She had recently heard the song Makeba by Jain on a BMX video featuring my husband from when he used to ride professionally, and it became her anthem. Even at three years old, she still requests Makeba in the car, though today it is second to David Bowie or Vampire Weekend these days. She would dance to it on repeat, her little feet on her ABC play mat making a sticky pitter-patter, her arms swinging wildly, and her diapered baby butt dropping low like she was in a nightclub. She was, and still is, one of the funniest little humans I have encountered. The attached sound clips are recorded from a video of Edie, my daughter, strumming my guitar on its stand, while singing her version of Makeba. These videos are some of my favorites, her head bobbing and bum wiggling with her music. These are the sounds that filled my house and my heart throughout those first weeks of quarantine, and they still bring me nothing but immense joy and thankfulness.
Covid for me meant more time at home with her. I was there when she woke up, we spent much of our days outside in the warming spring weather, and I nursed her and tucked her in for naps and at bedtime. We were lucky, we did not face financial crisis or unemployment, nor did we or our loved ones fall seriously ill. The result was time at home together as a family. While the restrictions and isolations of covid did mount over time, and stress of restrictions were certainly felt during my second pregnancy for my baby boy born in May of 2021, by and large, our lives just kept moving. We adjusted, we kept a small circle of trusted friends and family, and we were cautious. But when it came down to it, covid to me will always be marked by extra time with my daughter, time that I would not have had if the pandemic did not change everything about our lives. I wouldn’t trade the extra moments of her laughter, dancing, snuggles, or silliness for the world.
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2022-05-23
This is a pair of socks I found at It's Sugar. They say "Relax! I Got the Vax" on them. This is referencing the COVID vaccines people have gotten. Now, places are selling merchandise referencing it as a way to get more money. Things like this are not uncommon and many big stores will sell vaccine related merchandise. I have no idea how well it actually sells, but there must be some market out there for companies to keep producing it.
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2022-05-23
I have been to this Starbucks a few times over the years. This is a Starbucks inside Target. When I went there years ago, there used to be seating available for people to enjoy their beverages at leisure. Due to COVID, those seats are gone. I hope they get brought back eventually, because while I don't order from Starbucks that often, it was a nice place to sit while waiting for other people to get done shopping.
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2022-05-23
While at Target, I noticed a sneeze guard at the Starbucks inside it. I can't remember if the staff were wearing masks, but that is one COVID-era precaution I saw that is still in use. My sister was ordering something from there, so I took a picture while I was waiting for her to be done.
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2022-05-23
This is a sneeze guard at Hot Topic. The staff themselves were not wearing masks, but the sneeze guards were still up. Since both cash registers were being used, I took a picture from the back for privacy reasons.
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2022-05-23
Due to COVID-19, Gen, a Korean barbecue place, has had a staff shortage. Today I went there for lunch and noticed that there was fewer people working many tables than in times I have gone in the past. This speaks to the bigger labor issues that have come about since COVID. Some of it may be realizing that jobs like this aren't offering nearly enough to work there. Another possibility is that staff shortages might be happening from vaccine mandates, which depending on how many vaccines some place require, would be less appealing. The sign says that it is only due to COVID-19, but there are many components to that, so narrowing down the reason there are staff shortages could be difficult unless I asked the manager.
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2022-05-23
This is a sign on the front door of It's Sugar. It's Sugar is a chain candy store. Here, it is saying that those who have not been vaccinated should continue to wear a mask while inside the store. I went in there today, and no employee asked about my vaccination status, and the employees weren't masked. Arizona as a whole has been pretty light on COVID restrictions, but I imagine that other locations of this store might react differently.
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2022-05-23
This is where you can get cart wipes at Target while shopping. In addition to the thing itself, it gives you information on where to get a COVID vaccine. Wiping down surfaces has become a bigger thing since COVID, as it would help reduce the spread. COVID itself can't survive on surfaces for very long, but it can be there for a short amount of time. Using things like cart wipes is a way to prevent COVID and other diseases.
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2022-05-23
This is a sneeze guard seen at Target. This is a COVID-era restriction meant to prevent the spread of COVID. Even though most restrictions are gone, these are still up.
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2022-05-23
This is a picture of a COVID-era restriction put in place at some stores. The store this was seen in was Barnes & Noble. Not pictured, but employees were also wearing masks in addition to the sneeze guards.
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2020-04
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.
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2020-05-23T09
We lived in a very town in western Illinois as the pandemic arrived in America. Covid-19 seemed abstract until circumstances caused us to travel to a major international airport. The eerie quiet, in place of what should have been a noisy, madcap atmosphere, elevated sounds I normally would not have heard. It was as if a scene from a science fiction film had jumped off the screen and into my life. The experience had a nightmarish quality that has stayed with me two years later.
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2020-05-01
Covid-19 for me was difficult as a high school senior at the time and graduation coming. My class kind of lost the fun trips and experiences with teachers and classmates that graduates look forward to. We did not see our classmates till the day of graduation. I felt that Covid-19 allowed me the opportunity to better myself as I lost 18 pounds and wished I took more advantage of that time at home to learn new skills and offered me an opportunity to think and plan the future. At the end of the day. It taught me many lessons and ways to prepare for disasters.
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2020-05
Covid-19 had more of a positive effect than negative on my life in the spring/summer of 2020. I am a teacher in the small community of Anson, Texas, population 1,884; we are social distanced by default. Following the spring break of that school year, Anson ISD shut down and went wholly online. It was already a time of great transition for me, I was leaving the world of coaching in favor of becoming a regular classroom teacher and I had just been given five months to reflect on my new role. That time was spent with family and friends in an almost semi-retirement doing the things I never had time for because of my demanding schedule. As a teacher and coach, 60-hour work weeks were a norm, and during football seasons you could expect those hours to creep to the upper 90’s. There were also no “real” summers like other teachers. A coach’s summer is spent in morning workouts and summer camps with the occasional week off to visit family and decompress. That is why the “covid summer,” as I remember it, had such a profound impact on my life. Those five months were spent with family and friends playing dungeons and dragons, golfing, and remodeling a good friend’s house.
My younger brother is an avid dungeons and dragons player, a hobby that I never found myself with enough time to delve into. The collaborative story-based tabletop role playing game known as dnd requires several people, a few hours, and a lot of reading to play. My covid summer left me with ample free time to do just that. The sound of dice on hard tabletops rang throughout our houses as we held a regular weekly gaming session for five months. One unique thing about dungeons and dragons is the diversity of dice required to play the game, from four sided up to twenty sided and almost every even number in between, were required to effectively play the game. Most sets came with every dice, but the variety of color, size, and material quickly made collection a side hobby. Before long, I had a large bag full of dice and special black and gold metal set saved for only the most special of encounters. That is what I remember most, the cool touch of those dice as I contemplated the best course of action for my character to take against the hordes of enemies by brother could conjure up.
While the hottest days were spent in the air conditioning playing games, the pleasant ones were spent golfing. At the time, state health officials had mentioned golf as an almost perfect sport to play during covid because it was easy to social distance and the vitamin D from the sun helped to boost the immune system. I played a lot of golf with much of the same friends I played dnd with. Many of the golf courses we played at threw their doors open and welcomed golfers with open arms to try and keep the business afloat through the troubling times; we never once were denied a t-time. We played golf at least twice a week for five months and I don’t think my hands have recovered yet. The feel of those club handles wore out two gloves and countless blisters across both hand and I wouldn’t change it for the world.
While my other two hobbies offered little in the form of vocational skills, my third allowed me to learn the most. My good friend purchased his first home in May of 2020. A quaint 3 bed 2 bath home on a third of an acre just outside of Abilene, a larger town about 20 minutes south of Anson. The home was a product of the 60’s and while it had been well maintained by its previous owners, it needed quite a bit of updating. My friend had some experience in construction from a previous job, but we were all learning on the fly as we decided to remodel his home. Roughly a dozen power tools across four friends, we tore out walls, updated electrical, redid flooring, framed, drywalled, painted, and wired his 1500 square foot house for the better part of three months. There were a lot of late nights, beverages had, and good laughs shared. We all had some know how, but YouTube and google became our best friends. I had always heard the saying that rough hands meant hard work, but the feeling of my hands covered in drywall dust gave a much more visceral connection to it.
I think all these feelings for me were so profound during this time because the pandemic had placed a warning label on touch. My mom is a thirty-year veteran nurse, directed an ER during swine flu and bird flu, and still received Christmas cards from high-ranking officials of the CDC; I was well informed on the virus. In the early days, we didn’t know how long it lasted on surfaces, the severity of the virus, or its communicability. Touch was one thing that had to be eliminated. A six-foot bubble was placed on the world and people feared handshakes, hugs, and human embraces foundational to the species. One knows the dangers of the everyday world, but rarely to we expect a loving hug to potentially carry death to a dear loved one. This notion changed how we, as a species, saw each other. Some embraced the struggle to soldier on with courage and others gave into fear as new information came out hourly. Two years later, after mask mandates have been lifted across most of the country, people are still trying to heal. Fist bumps taken over handshakes, hands free pay at most supermarkets, automatic doors becoming a priority are all examples of how Covid-19 changed our perception of touch as a human race.
With all the activity I had during my covid summer, I did eventually contract the novel virus on my birthday in June. My only symptom was a loss of smell, one of the weirdest sensations I’ve ever had. I count myself extremely lucky that that was the only symptom I had. Aside from my ten days of self-quarantine, my life was affected in very much a positive way. I cherish the memories of my covid summer and count myself incredibly lucky to have experienced the pandemic the way I did.
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2020-05-29
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.
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2020-04-12
Easter 2020 was very different, but as it turned it out different in a good way
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2022-05-20
This is a news story from The New York Times by Catherine Pearson. Due to the nationwide baby formula shortage, new methods of obtaining milk have come about. One of those ways is sharing extra breast milk.
There is some risk involved in getting donor breast milk. Informal sharing means that it won't get checked for things like HIV or hepatitis B.
There are some health benefits to using donor milk though. One of them is immunity to COVID. For example, mothers who have been infected with COVID or have received the vaccine can pass down those antibodies to babies through their milk.
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2022-05-19
This is a news story from Metro Weekly by Joseph Reberkenny. For the first time since COVID started, DC Black Pride will be back in-person. It is organized by the Center for Black Equity and it includes over 25 events highlighting the Black LGBTQ community in Washington. During the height of the COVID outbreak, the Center for Black Equity held events online instead.
The organizers say that in-person events are special for this community and has planned safety precautions for people attending. There will be things like masks available at the event in addition to rapid test kits.
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2022-05-21
This is a news story from NBC News by Tara C. Smith. This is comparing COVID to the recent monkeypox outbreak. Unlike the COVID, Smith says that monkeypox has had more understanding due to it being related to smallpox. Monkeypox is milder than smallpox and is more difficult to spread compared to something like COVID.
However, monkeypox and COVID do have some things in common. One of them is that both are respiratory viruses, meaning that they can be spread through cough, sneeze, and sometimes breathing.
One very good thing about monkeypox is that there are already vaccines available that can work against it. The smallpox vaccine is similar enough to monkeypox that it can help prevent both.
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2022-05-03
This is a news story from Vice by Joseph Cox. The CDC bought access to location data harvested from millions of phones in the United States. Although it was originally purchased for lockdown related reasons, it is intended to be used for non-COVID purposes too. The way they did this was through purchasing data from SafeGraph. The author of this piece mentions how the decision to do this was not without controversy, as it brings into question the freedom of movement and the rights to privacy. Google has banned SafeGraph from its app store in June.
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2022-05-21
This is a news story from Fox 10 News by Bob Christie. Governor Doug Ducey has recently signed legislation that would prevent state health officials from adding COVID-19 vaccines to list of required school vaccines. This legislation was done by the GOP to prevent government overreach.
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2022-05-19
This biography was created out of a self-directed project from the HST580 class. This biography will be linked to the submissions of the person mentioned in the document and title.
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2022-05-20
Having such a difficult school year before the pandemic hit, I initially couldn’t be more excited for this break from those all nighters. After getting the opportunity to recharge for a few weeks, finishing the school year was relatively easy. Summer flew by, and I soon realized that my entire junior year would be online as well.
I quickly found the homogeneity to be unavoidable; I could sleep and attend school without moving more than a few feet. Each day was the same, a mechanical routine of jumping from Zoom meeting to Zoom meeting. Countless students would log into these meetings for roll call, and simply tilt the camera at the ceiling fan as they went out with friends or took a nap. It was easy to think this situation was just an obstacle to get past, another building block for the vision I had put in place for the years after high school. For me, this vision was about college, building knowledge towards my future career, and compiling a worthy resume. However, there was no reason I couldn't give value to this time period, to give meaning to each day such that they didn’t all blend together. From the daily differences in curriculum to the unique interactions of each period, I found these minute contrasts to be more significant. Realizing the importance of being mindful, even when little to no dynamic quality existed, allowed me to continue furthering my studies and interests.
Looking back now, during a time when I have gotten accepted to one of the best schools I could’ve ever asked for, I think about how difficult that year and a half was for me, and how much harder the situation was for many other individuals. Again, the biggest lesson I learned was the importance of mindfulness. Whether it be a triumph or a tragedy, these life events should not be skimmed over like a mountain or trough to pass through. They are all lessons in some form, pieces of knowledge that should be taken with thought.
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2022-05-20
Having such a difficult school year before the pandemic hit, I initially couldn’t be more excited for this break from those all nighters. After getting the opportunity to recharge for a few weeks, finishing the school year was relatively easy. Summer flew by, and I soon realized that my entire junior year would be online as well.
I quickly found the homogeneity to be unavoidable; I could sleep and attend school without moving more than a few feet. Each day was the same, a mechanical routine of jumping from Zoom meeting to Zoom meeting. Countless students would log into these meetings for roll call, and simply tilt the camera at the ceiling fan as they went out with friends or took a nap. It was easy to think this situation was just an obstacle to get past, another building block for the vision I had put in place for the years after high school. For me, this vision was about college, building knowledge towards my future career, and compiling a worthy resume. However, there was no reason I couldn't give value to this time period, to give meaning to each day such that they didn’t all blend together. From the daily differences in curriculum to the unique interactions of each period, I found these minute contrasts to be more significant. Realizing the importance of being mindful, even when little to no dynamic quality existed, allowed me to continue furthering my studies and interests.
Looking back now, during a time when I have gotten accepted to one of the best schools I could’ve ever asked for, I think about how difficult that year and a half was for me, and how much harder the situation was for many other individuals. Again, the biggest lesson I learned was the importance of mindfulness. Whether it be a triumph or a tragedy, these life events should not be skimmed over like a mountain or trough to pass through. They are all lessons in some form, pieces of knowledge that should be taken with thought.
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2022-05-20
My name is Kasper, I live in the U.S. and I was 24 at the time the novel corona virus first started to cause shutdowns nation wide and world wide. I did not have the luxury of staying sheltered in place as I worked for a company that was deemed necessary to operate no matter what. My co-workers and I were basically told that our company will close when the federal government completely shuts down. That never happened. All throughout the pandemic I did not notice many changes to my life other than lack of major social events. I still hung out with friends and didn't really take the whole shut down seriously. I never had anything major happen to anyone I knew until the second year. That being said I never felt that hiding was going to solve the whole pandemic issue as many people believed it would. I spent a lot of time riding motorcycles with my wife and friends living my life to the best of my ability. One thing that did change was the whole mask dilemma. I wasn't someone against masks but I do wish the whole situation would have been handled differently. I feel that the picture above can illustrate that I did not nor will I ever let anything stop me from living and enjoying my life
