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Sensory history
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2020-10-14
Time to Cook
Before the onset of the corona virus and the lockdowns and quarantines that followed, I had a pretty routine schedule. I would wake up around 7:15am and I would not get home again until about 7pm. Normally I would make something easy for dinner that I could have at least another night in a row. Usually it would just be a meat and a vegetable with fruit for dessert. I would cook the vegetables and the meat in the same pan to save myself the clean up time later as I would normally go to bed around 11pm and not want to waste any more time cleaning than I had to. I also would not stray too far from recipes that I was comfortable with. I would be very upset if I made something terrible after a ling day at work. However now with quarantine, I work from home and my schedule has become quite different. I am able to sleep in a little longer as I do not have to commute anymore. As soon as I am finished work I am already home and can start making dinner as soon as I want. This extra time gives me more flexibility to try new recipes and take chances on foods I may not have tried otherwise. On my lunch break I am able to go food shopping so I am not limited by what ingredients I have on hand. For this meal that I made and posted pictures of, it would be a rare treat to get this on a worknight before COVID-19. This meal took longer, used more ingredients, involved more pots and pans, and took longer to clean up than any pre-quarantine meal that I would make. Yet the payoff was absolutely delicious. To have pan seared scallops in a creamy garlic sauce over wheat spaghetti on a random Wednesday night is one of the few bright sides of quarantine. I am looking forward to the day when all restrictions are lifted and life returns to normal but I will surely miss all the extra time I have to try new recipes, to have my kitchen filled with new and unique scents and for my taste buds to experience diverse ranges of cuisines that my normal schedule precluded. -
2020-10-15
Sounds of Chronic Lung Disease
In January 2015, my mom got very sick and was in the hospital for 2 weeks, 3 days of which were in the ICU with a breathing tube. She was diagnosed with severe COPD and has required at-home oxygen ever since. Her disease has now progressed to end-stage. Last year, she received a non-invasive ventilator to use at night. A lot of people with COVID-19 have breathing problems even after recovering from the disease. Some of these people might have permanent lung damage and require at-home oxygen therapy and possibly non-invasive ventilators. The first recording is the sound of an oxygen machine. The second is the sound of the ventilator. At the end of the ventilator recording is the alarm that sounds when it does not detect any breathing. These sounds demonstrate the impact of COVID-19 has on its victims and the legacy it will leave behind long after the disease itself has gone away. -
2020-10-14
Slimy, Uncomfortable, and Antibacterial
I work at a bar in north-east Wisconsin. The stereotypes regarding the people of Wisconsin and their love for drinking and the bars are pretty accurate. There isn't much to do in the small town I live in besides that. When Covid began, people were most concerned with the bars being open. We were closed for a while as many devoted patrons, and the Tavern League of Wisconsin tried to fight the orders. We've been open now for several months and still most people that come into the bar do not take the virus or safety measures seriously. There's been times where customers tell me I don't have to wear my mask, or I don't need to wipe down their table, or use hand sanitizer as much. I am constantly around people at my job and risk a lot of contact with the public. I take the safety measures seriously and constantly use hand sanitizer. Since Covid, we have bottles of hand sanitizer everywhere, and now, because of the demand of sanitizer, we have strange brands made out of different products than I am used too. Every time I put on hand sanitizer it comes out all slimy all of my hands. It's incredibly uncomfortable and it feels like you almost need to wash your hands after to get rid of the gross feeling. But eventually it rubs in, and I go on with my job, only to follow up the uncomfortable sensation of slimy hand sanitizer with the complaints of customers who think the virus is fake and there shouldn't be any regulations in place that may hinder the bar experience. -
2020-07-18
A Trip to a Silent Hospital
On July 18th 2020 in the late afternoon, I started experiencing some concerning not Covid-related symptoms and I made the decision to go to the Emergency Room. I’ve had chronic health issues all my life, so this wasn’t an unfamiliar experience. However, I’d been isolating since March and I was terrified of having to potentially go into a situation that was unknown in the middle of the pandemic. The things I remember most about the visit are how utterly desolate the places in the hospital felt, and how silent it was. I’m used to packed waiting rooms and constant noise. This visit was very different. After a brief screening in a large, mostly empty lobby with large barriers and protective measures in place, they assessed that I was not a potential COVID patient and sent me to a waiting room that I was alone in for most of my visit. There was no real chatter, mostly just silence, broken by the TV. The silence continued even back into the ER, where it seemed that the staff was spread thin. The most notable sounds were occasional low conversations and the sounds of medical equipment being moved around and the beeps and pulses. Even when evaluating me, while warm, the conversations sounded more terse and to the point. Everything moved more quickly. In some ways, it felt like being in an abandoned building. Everything was dark, silent, and empty in the areas where I was. -
2020-03-19T09:06-05:00
When the Airport Becomes a Library
In the middle of March in 2020, flight prices dropped dramatically. I took advantage out of this circumstance by purchasing a $75 non-stop round trip ticket on United from Phoenix to Chicago. My flight to Chicago on Monday, March 16 was somewhat full, and O'Hare Airport in Chicago was less crowded than usual. However, the Coronavirus situation quickly worsened each day. I returned to the airport on Thursday, March 19 for a 10:00 AM flight to go back to Phoenix. O'hare, normally packed with people during this aviation morning rush hour, was almost like a ghost town. It had only taken a couple of days to make the big drop in passanger traffic. It was earily quiet. The colorful walkway to the satellite concourse in Terminal 1 had just a few people, making it quite easy to hear Gershwin's "Rhapsody in Blue." When I got to the satellite concourse, it felt like a library. You could walk on the concourse with barely anyone around surrounded by little to no noise. It was if you owned the place. I went to Starbucks, a favorite among travelers in the morning, where there was no line. The workers enjoyed conversating among themselves. Walking past each of the gates, I could hear near silence as most were empty or near empty, with very few gate agents working in the terminal. As someone who had taken flights out of this airport since I was little, this felt very bizzare. I knew this was historic and I took a couple of photographs along the way. One of the things I've realized about the history of the pandemic, and major historical events in general, is that it isn't necessarily about what's added, but what is removed. The sensory details do not necessarily involve jolts to your senses, but perhaps the opposite. Like Lower Manhatten after the collapse of the World Trade Center, sometimes what you may sense during major historical events is near silence. No one on my flight that day needed to point out the sheer gravity of the situation; the silence spoke a thousand words. -
2020-03
Time to Complete a Decade-Old Project
We had just moved from Fort Bragg (Fayetteville), North Carolina, to Eglin Air Force Base (Destin), Florida, when my husband learned he was deploying to Afghanistan this past January. Usually, when my husband deploys, I have work to occupy my time, but I did not find a teaching job when we moved. I decided to return to my hometown of Kane, Pennsylvania during my husband’s deployment. When the pandemic started, I decided to fix up a one-hundred-year-old table left in my sister’s house by the previous owner. I made my sister keep this table in her basement for ten years, with the promise that one day I would take it with me. It only took a deployment and a pandemic to get me started on this project. I figured working on the table would be an excellent way to pass the time since I could no longer visit old friends due to the pandemic. I started working on the table in my sister’s basement armed with paint scrapers, wire brushes, CitriStrip, Mineral Spirits, and an acrid-smelling varnish remover. CitriStrip smells like oranges, and that is not a bad smell to have to permeate your sister’s house for days; however, the other varnish remover was not as nose-friendly. It smelt so bad that one could say that I was using biological terrorism on my family. Imagine ten thousand girls removing their nail polish at the same time with acetone, and you have some idea of the smell. It did not take long for my sister to kick me out of my (almost warm) basement work area, and I began to work on the table in the frigid temperatures of my parent’s garage where the smell of chemicals would not reach inside. Pennsylvania is not very warm in March, and I could never get warm, especially when I was using acetone. Acetone evaporates quickly, and as a result, it kept my hands cold. Also, I found that the acetone melted my latex gloves, and that made matters worse. My hands were always dry. Removing the old varnish was laborious, and I am still not sure if it was varnish that coated the table. Research led me to believe that it might be shellac or a type of wax, and when I scraped the layers off, everything turned into a goopy mess. As I scraped each layer of the varnish off the table, I could begin to see more of the table’s features. I began to see the scorch marks from the saw, a mark where the previous owner left a paint can, and I could see the beautiful wood hiding underneath. Finally, it was time to sand. When you are sanding wood, you start with large grain sandpaper, and you work your way to finer sandpaper. I used both an electric sander and a hand sander. The electric sander made my hands numb, but the hand sander was time-consuming. As I wiped the sawdust away from the table, I felt accomplished. Now the table is a treasured part of our new home in Monterey CA; in fact, I am writing this paper on it right now. *This is the story of someone finally getting around to refurbishing an old table. -
2020-10-13
The end of quiet time in the home.
I am very lucky. I have a job that allows me to work 12-hour shifts, which means I have three or four days off a week. I used to have the time while my daughter was at school and my wife (a teacher) was at work to relax or work on my master's classes. These classes take concentration and time to read and write, and noise is very distracting to me. I should also mention that we purposely bought a small house, less than 1300 sq. feet. Suddenly in March, 2020, my world (at the risk of sounding selfish) was changed. My wife was teaching from home, juggling rooms back and forth with me for computer usage etc., while my daughter was asking for help with school. The voice mail attached is a memory I have of my comfortable little environment changing. This particular voicemail surely caused stress and anxiety to the parents of 16,000 students in one district. Even today listening to it feels ominous. Ironically, today I dropped my daughter off for the first time at in-person school, and I was sad to see her go. *Voicemail sound file from my child's school district announcing school closures. -
2020-03-20
Fresh Air, But For Only So Long
During the pandemic, specifically between March and June, there wasn't much for me to do with work. I would help my Dad with his now unfamiliar school work. I did play games and watched the entirety of Parks and Recreation, but couldn't stave off the boredom. I needed to do something. So, I would go on walks. Sometimes I would go by myself and sometimes I would take my dog Carolina. She loves taking walks and it was something new for her with every walk. I lived in a rural part of town and the air was fresh. The smell of flowers drifting in the air, while also smelling cow manure as well. All I could hear was the sound of the birds, neighbor dogs and the farm animals. Carolina would stare at those dogs or animals, but never approach them. It was wonderful to breathe in the warm air. Cars were a rare sight and sound when I would walk along the asphalt with no issues. It was so quiet. It was nice to have the road to ourselves. Prior to COVID, people would be driving along our road frequently and we could hear them even from the end of our driveway. There seemed to be less garbage in the ditches too. Sometimes, I would see whole families walking along the road, probably wanting to inhale that fresh air that I was enjoying. Mid to late summer though, the air became thick with smoke. The fires around Washington, especially from nearby Selah, were suffocating and my walks stopped. There was even a fire on the ridge behind our house and I was worried that we would have to evacuate. The sky was muggy and the area was too warm, thankfully, since we all started wearing masks, we could cope with the fires. Mostly, I was disappointed that the fresh air I breathed towards the beginning of summer was gone. The picture I chose to share was a picture I took of the fire that started on the ridge behind our house. It's not the best quality, but that smoke was what closed out the summer. There was a lot to deal with this summer; COVID and fires mostly, but somehow, we made it. *Photograph, this is something that I took myself. -
2020-10-12
Loud noises and Quiet Cooking
There are two things that have marked this pandemic for me: sound and smell. He sounds of slammed doors from a very bored, angry, unsure ten-year-old boy and the smell of my late-night cooking. As a 10-year-old, he felt set adrift, when schools closed, and he couldn’t go play with his friends and they couldn’t come here. How do you explain the concept of pandemic to a kid without scaring the crap out of them? Because he was slamming the door to his room almost anytime he was spoken to, the dogs, of course, had something to say about it, because, well, they’re dogs. So, most of the day, there was slamming doors, constant barking, yelling (him), more yelling (me), crying (mostly me) and just really wanting some peace. So, I began to cook. Stock, one of the first things I learned in culinary school. Tomato sauce. Pasta. Cookies. Bread, and no, I didn’t get on the sour dough band wagon. And I would do this late at night. When it was quite and cool. Filling the house with the rich smells of food. Meals that have been frozen, stock that has been frozen or canned, cookie dough stashed away to make cookies later. I could think while I cooked. It was and is, my de-stressor. The picture is of one of my creations – “Ravioli Lasagna” – basically, using fresh ravioli (this is ricotta and spinach) as your lasagna “noodle”, layered with marinara, mozzarella and sweet Italian sausage. -
2020-10-12
Waiting for My Next Breath of Fresh Air
The magnitude of COVID-19 has certainly changed all of our lives forever, and I can absolutely discuss the greater magnitude of the issue. However, in this archive, I will submit a more specific story of how my wife, children and I have been affected and are still affected today. Living in Arizona, there is one thing every Arizonian knows, the summers are hot! After living in Arizona for almost a decade now, my wife and I have grown to appreciate Fall, Winter and Spring because the weather is spectacular, and we enjoy being able to take a walk. In Summer we quickly learned we could enjoy our walks by window shopping in any store or mall as the air conditioning was second to none. This all came to a screeching halt in March 2020 with the declaration of the COVID-19 Pandemic. We heeded all the orders, bypassing our Spring walks to stay indoors for our safety. My wife and children would stay in while I would make very sparse food runs to restock following every precautionary instruction given. I quickly realized what was said to be not important at first, later to be told it was necessary for basic safety measures, I would learn the “Mask” would be my greatest foe. Why? Because it makes it very difficult to breathe. As stores begun to open in early Summer, it was too hot to be outside as temperatures were topping 100 degrees in the valley of the sun. We would at least be able to enjoy our walks in stores after the stay at home orders were lifted. However, at this point mask orders were put into place making it mandatory indoors. Now faced with the choice of it being too hot outside or walking indoors with a mask where breathing is labored, gaining headaches and now lightheadedness while struggling for air. As the mask orders continue and seeing masks of every type, people wearing them incorrectly, people touching them, raising them and removing them. The more and more people I see out and about and no significant rise in deaths or hospitalizations, I wonder what the reason for these masks can be? Right now, the only thing I am waiting for is my next breath of fresh air. -
2020-10-12
A Covid-19 July 4th, 2020
One of my favorite holiday rituals is to go to a park, lay a blanket down, enjoy a picnic with my circle of family and friends along with the many other groups who are also awaiting the start of the fireworks show. The aromas of barbecued items such as hot dogs, hamburgers, and corn wafting in the air mixing with other ethnic delights are reminders of the diversity of this country. I open the doors of my Jeep, connect my iPhone and select my July 4th playlist to share with the people around me. In the distance I hear other groups talking and commenting on the music; it's nice to have background music as the show begins. "What's a July 4th show without the good 'ole '1812 Overture'?" is a common remark. The attraction of the fireworks, at least to me, is being there to hear the reverberation and smell the sulphur as they explode in the air besides the visual display. Timing the music to the show, especially the finale, is my annual challenge; one that I've been somewhat successful several years in a row. This year's holiday was spent indoors, by myself. I just didn't have the energy or interest to go to the bother of barbecuing for just me. My friends and family were all hunkered down at their respective homes. To observe July 4th via TV was just not same. For me, there would be no physical sensation of the sounds or of the smells that are so closely associated with the holiday. So, I passed on recognizing July 4th as a holiday...it was just another Covid-19 day in the year 2020. -
2020-10-12
Sensory history contribution to COVID-19 Archive
These are the instuctions posted in Canvas for HST 643. Students enrolled in Global History Fall B at Arizona State University will all submit a story related to the pandemic and senory history -
2020-04
The Silence of Moab
Moab Utah is a lively tourist town normally filled with visitors from around the world. However, the COVID-19 pandemic has made it a ghost town. -
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. -
2020-04-20
Cherry wood and the smoker
My submission to the Covid-19 sensory archive was about the smell and texture of cherry wood chips. During the first month of the Covid19 pandemic my father quarantined with my husband, daughters, and I. After a week or so of organizing, deep cleaning, and binge watching we decided we should find something else to do. My husband had been gifted a small wood smoker a few years ago and my father decided he was going to figure out how to smoke different types of foods. The first few attempts were less than stellar, with large flames, boiled water overflowing out of the bottom of this smoker but after another week he was doing quite well. He had ordered several different types of woods, chunks, and chips, almond and orange etc. I had not been a huge fan of anything he had done but it was keeping him, my husband, and my three-year-old entertained so it was fine. Finally, after his many attempts he came to me with mozzarella cheese he had smoked with cherry wood from our own trees. It tasted so good! I was thoroughly impressed with what he had accomplished. After that I helped him chop the wood and do various other things as he tried different recipes. Now anytime I move those wood chips around my pantry or smell the residual cherry wood smoke on the smoker in our side yard I think of that first month in quarantine. All the memories and recipes and the time in the middle of a pandemic where we got to slow down stay home and figure out how to use a smoker. I think that was a recurring event for a lot of people that were fortunate to get to quarantine with family. My family and I are typically terribly busy with various activities and jobs that we must run from one to the other and never get to have time to slow down and enjoy time with each other. -
-0007-10-18
The Smell of Quarantine
During the early days of the pandemic, I flew from my duty station at Marine Corps Air Station Yuma to Marine Corps Base Camp Lejeune to attend an eight week school. While most of the country was shutting down, the military was forced to find solutions to mitigate risk of infection while still maintaining readiness. The solution to this was isolating service members for two weeks prior to training, protecting potentially infected service members from each other while giving time to monitor for potential symptoms. Looking back at my experience being restricted to a room for two weeks, what stands out to me is not how I stayed occupied, the food that was provided, or how I communicated with family, but the smell of the particular hand soap I had in that room with me. Through meticulously using it to clean and wash my hands, the scent filled my room, and I became more annoyed with that smell than I was being restricted to a room. The smell of that soap slowly became my memory associated with the COVID-19 Pandemic. Looking back at that time, five months later, the smell of that soap still standouts as my COVID-19 memory, and I don’t think I’ll be buying that soap in the future. -
2020-08-20
Sensory history and the pandemic
I've been thinking about sensory history and how often it's left out of historical records. We often don't stop to comment on observations we make every day like noise of a busy street corner or the smell of muffins baking in the kitchen. I'm teaching HST643 Global history during Fall B with a module on sensory history. I'd like to ask students to add a perspective on the sensory history of the pandemic. I posted this thought in the JOTPY Slack workspace and Shanna replied with a really interesting observation about sound: “…there is an odd tension of noise inside my home and silence the second I step outside. I find myself needing a quiet space when I’m in my house. Yet the second I walk outside, it’s way too quiet that I start to feel uncomfortably lonely and in need of human connection.”