I’ve got a commission that I’m working on and I wondered if you would help. David Byrne’s site, Reasons to be Cheerful, has asked me to respond to the prompt: will we miss this? They’re riffing off of a poll that showed that only 9% of Britons want life to return to “normal,” after sheltering-in: “People have noticed significant changes during the lockdown, including cleaner air, more wildlife and stronger communities.”
Sharing a letter I wrote to my 2 year old a couple of days ago... “Dear Z, I was talking with your dad a couple of days ago about the fact that I am so grateful to be able to witness all these little things about you that I wonder if I’d have missed if we weren’t sheltering-in-place and together 24/7. I’m really seeing all these things about you and experiencing them with my whole self, not while I’m rushing out the door or just getting home. Maybe most of these things are just developmental, but they feel so you... The way you are learning to ride your bicycle and are now flying down the sidewalk, the way you are dancing with your dolls and falling in love with so many new exciting books in your bookshelves, the way you are crawling into our laps to read them... the way you are talking about your friends and family and pretend to call them on my phone to talk and see them... the way you are offering so many more kisses and also giving us detailed instructions on what you’d like to do next in the day... the way you are correcting my song lyrics and collecting baby pinecones and flowers and rocks and giving them to your fairy houses in our backyard... all the gardening and watering and watching things grow. The virtual family and friends time. The many rainbows we’ve seen. The hot tubs we’ve shared. The epic hammock swings and a couple of epic naps and nights and mornings too. The joy you experience, the adventures, the hide-and-seek. The tea parties. The bandaids. The music. The Jeopardy and the Mickey Mouse Club House! The way you hold my hand by just putting your fist inside my palm so I can wrap my hand around it. How long will it fit there? I’m so thankful that it fits today.“
My sheltering in has not been literal. I live in a very rural area - I go for walks, I see a handful of friends (one at a time) I take bike rides... but still, I have noticed not just a slowing down, but a freedom from assumptions, from habits of routine and "have to's" - while the virus granted this, it is also in the stars, quite literally - and I use a couple of really good astrological folks for my most reliable "big picture" perspective on all of it... mostly.
My biggest anxiety is that the divisiveness will continue, and that I'll be looking at a lot of masked faces.
I have learned at a deeper level how much I am nourished by the physical beauty of the world (where I live, in Maine) and how much I also need my friends.
I have also observed that the US is an extremely habitual and reactionary place, for the most part. More so than some other countries, it seems. Also, there is a lot of privelege in this country that blinds people to how fortunate they really are.
Mostly, it is the moments of meeting strangers, and really dropping into talking with them, and seeing them that has touched me. Today, I bought a used lawn mower from an elderly man who I so enjoyed talking with, I could have stayed and listened to his life story....
1. I anticipate missing the feeling of "enough time" and the knowing that even with all the time in the world, I do only the things that I feel like doing - as "the list" remains incomplete - hence the list is simply a list and not really my intention.
2. My anxiety about opening up is that until their is a vaccine, we are not "open" and need to act accordingly. But, I soothe my anxiety by realizing that I can and will make personal choices for myself, and do my best to mind my own business and not push against the choices of others.
3. I've learned how quiet it can be in a city and how much I appreciate quiet
4. I feel disappointed in my countrymen and then I wonder if what i "see" reported is simply the minority outliers. I hope that is true, as I want to feel good about my country.
5. The simple act of taking a fancy doughnut to a neighbor brought he and I such joy. The smiling felt good. it really is the simple things
I will miss the inexhaustible ordinariness of life at home. The world outside these walls is awfully scary right now, but when I'm here, with my partner and kids (9 and 7), I feel such joyful ease...most of the time. I've also felt a lot of what they used to call melancholy, but it's like a receptive melancholy. I really like it.
I am worried that we (my family, our neighborhood, our community, distant strangers, me, you) will be unsafe, but mostly I worry that I'm not worried enough. I am worried, but, despite all of the evidence that should persuade me otherwise, I have a lot of faith in people right now.
I didn't expect the limitations of this time to so forcefully remind me of who I really am.
I am daily reminded that one of the greatest evils of evil people is their ability to make other people hate them. The worst among us seem to bring out the worst in others. And so I have to risk love, that harsh and dreadful love in action. I need to show up in radical love knowing I am walking in the presence of everyone one of you who does the same. I don't know where we're all going, but I know we're accompanied in friendship and commitment by each other.
A few weeks into Minnesota's safe at home order, an employee from Saint Paul Public Schools called our house and her first question was, "Is there anything you need?" I said we were doing fine. She said, "Good. We're calling everybody just to make sure." I'm reasonably confident I can't write about the brief but profound connection I felt with this woman. It was the first (but not last!) time a very random interaction with someone brought me to tears. Add that to the list of things I'll miss.
I’ll miss being home so much. I love being home. I love that I don’t have to make excuses to not go to big parties, which I don’t enjoy. I’ll miss religious services from my couch, where I can practice my Hebrew without feeling less than cause it’s not so good.
My biggest anxieties about things opening back up is that things are opening back up. And it doesn’t feel safe. I read about a woman in Nashville who went into a store with a mask on and was called a pussy. I worry that we are not safe. I wonder, sometimes, in my darkest moments, if I will ever feel safe again.
I’ve learned that I am more afraid of dying alone than I am of dying. And that the thought of one of my kids being really sick without me able to be with them, makes me sob like I have never sobbed. I’ve learned that every death matters to me. Every single one. I’ve learned my husband is able to compartmentalize in a way that makes me not like him sometimes. And other times I’m very jealous.
I’ve learned the country I live in … I don’t know that I have the words that can express the sadness …. I’m seeing what I have seen my whole life, only so much bigger, through the lens of this president who, in my view, has no humanity. I want to show up louder, though always with love.
My favorite moment is when my husband and I were sitting in our yard. Our neighbor who lives on our right came out and pulled up her chair – at least 6 feet from ours. A few minutes later, I saw my other neighbor. A woman in her 80’s, who came out with her chair. She said she was not dressed but saw us through her window and wanted to join us. She apologized that her hair was a mess. And we sat. and we chatted about birds and life and it didn’t last long, but it was a moment that is sealed on my heart. She was worried about her hair, and she didn’t want to miss the chance to sit with us. I will never forget the smile on her face when she joined us.
thanks for asking. while not my best writing, capturing this opened my heart a bit
For the first month or two, I would have said I'll miss nothing. I am a college professor and department chair and the pivot to all online was brutal. Plus two of my kids ended up back home unexpectedly and against their will. Once we all settled in, though, and especially once the semester ended, I came to love the unexpected opportunities for laughter and connection. Also all the family meals (especially since the kids help cook and do all the dishes!).
I am anxious that we will open up too quickly and also that people will forget to be kind and generous with each other as we negotiate the new world created by this virus. I am also anxious for my kids. One just graduated college in 2019, another is a junior in college, and the third a senior in high school. I have no template to help me guide them to and through the world that awaits them.
I had lost sight of how blessed I am. I may not have enjoyed working from home, but I have a job. We live in the country and have two porches so we can get outside as much as we want. Plus I am an introvert by nature, so staying home mostly suits me fine. Yes, my kids are missing out on opportunities, but some kids never even get to have such dreams. I have also discovered a much more natural sense of balance in how to introvert - when I need to be alone and when I need to reach out. The forced "on" of the campus environment and life in general had thrown that all out of whack. Now that my mind and energy are more centered, I am rediscovering how much I love to read and write and feel more connected to family and friends.
We are so divided. It hurts my heart. I'm largely a liberal, but conservatives are people too. Yet if I try to inject humanity or nuance into a conversation, more often than not, people immediately dismiss it as complicity with the "other" side. I'm tired of sides. I want us to start doing the hard and dirty work of coming together instead of finding more things to split us apart. So as a first step, I'm a) getting off of social media for a while and b) working on kind, firm, non-shaming ways to call bullshit when I hear it from any side.
On Mother's Day, I decided to take a nap, an act of self-care I almost never indulge in. While I slept, my daughter decided to walk down to the river, an act of self-care she almost never indulges in. I woke to find her standing by my bed, looking more than a little disheveled. Her phone had fallen in the river, and with it, her license and credit/debit cards. I guess it should have been the straw that broke the camel's back. Instead, every time we think of it, it all seems so ludicrous that we end up bursting out laughing instead.
I sincerely hope that the following comments will help, in response to David Byrne's site, "Reasons to be Cheerful".
1. I will miss the ease of online teaching my two courses, Ethics and Philosophy, from students at Lincoln public high school in Portland, OR. While the experiences I've had with these classes since the start of last school term in Sept. have been consistently inspiring, the advantage of Google Meet has proved unexpectedly efficient and rewarding. I have been able, with my co-teacher, Gabrielle, to enter into the homes of these 12 students, engage their parents and siblings, enjoy stimulating conversations on topical issues that would have been unimaginable when school was in regular session, that is, before it closed in mid-March due to COVID-19. The convenience, inclusiveness and accessibility of this educational experience has been so uniquely exciting that I hope it may somehow continue next school year if it opens. If it doesn't, then I'll certainly miss it immensely.
Yet the implications of my admittedly limited experience with online teaching, extend far beyond these high school classes. During my 40 year tenure as a professor at Barnard College, ending with retirement in 2008, I sometimes underrated, even berated, online instruction as inevitably inferior to in-class education. My recent experience, both with an online seminar that I was invited to join at Barnard last March (with the college also closed) and these high school classes, has prompted an about face in this respect.
If we extend this issue still further, then another dimension might be relevant. This relates to a notable controversy about our educational system in America in the media, especially the NY Times op pages, concerning the quality of these two modes of education. Although the epidemic has obviously prompted this exchange, the implications extend beyond potential problems of health on campus this coming academic year.
On the one hand, it's argued that colleges must be open this fall to foster the "fierce intellectual debates that just aren't the same on Zoom..." (Christina Paxson, president of Brown Univ., "College Campuses Must Reopen in the Fall", 4/26/20). Several other reasons are given here to support this imperative, all arguing the case against online education. On the other hand, the argument has been made that "virtual classes could save costs and expand inclusiveness," enabling an equality and quality of education that is increasingly being lost due to exorbitant tuition costs. (Hans Taparia, NYU professor of business, "The Future of College is Online," NY Times, 5/26/20).
Returning to the question, then, we all should be concerned about whether our present educational system fails to meet the needs of less privileged families. As one who has devoted a lifetime to teaching, (I'm age 82) there is no doubt in my mind that online instruction can meet the standards of our conventional in-class system, whether in high schools or colleges. As a citizen and educator in college or high school, I am now committed to the evident quality and accessibility enjoyed by my current class instruction where we do indeed have "fierce intellectual debates" as before, whether compared to my numerous seminars at Barnard or now. Zoom definitely can provide this and in private colleges especially, at a much lower expense than our elite privileged universities demand.
2. Following from my response to Q#1, I now have a heightened concern about opening up to the elitist system of education that has become much worse since I joined the faculty at Barnard College in 1969. I can share better the anxiety of those high school seniors who cannot possibly afford a traditional Ivy league education or comparable to it. We urgently need an inclusive mode of learning in direct contrast to the highly exclusive system characteristic of our unequal capitalist economy.
3. I have learned that my previous views on education were flawed. As indicated above, I had for over four decades, a strong bias against online instruction that precluded any appreciation of its decided advantages or the systemic transformation that may be made through it. Now, as I've watched once again, graduating seniors face severe disappointments over being accepted by top universities and then denied access due to financial incapacity, I've learned that there is another way of making this education affordable if these colleges will open opportunities as indicated above. I was wrong to have accepted this gross injustice and my change of view would not have occurred without the recent narrative that I've related.
4. As a professor of political science, trained in this discipline and teaching it to literally thousands of college students, I honestly did not believe that I could learn at my age much new about the workings of politics in the U.S.
Now, as I've watched with horror the political operations of America, it's evident that the country has descended into unprecedented baseness. The level of incivility and indecency is difficult to witness much less comprehend. I cannot explain to my four grandchildren how our citizenry could allow such political depravity to occur.
My particular area of research and scholarly publications is nonviolent resistance to illegitimate or unjust political authority. From this study, I firmly believe that the only remedy for this current political disaster is a mass civil disobedience movement. I propose this against the background of personal involvement. I was proud to participate in such a political movement during the 1960's under the inspired and inspiring leadership of Martin Luther King, Jr.
From that remarkable event, I learned that even the most egregious evils such as blatant racism can be overcome to a significant degree if we can produce courageous and gifted leaders and profoundly progressive politics.
Unfortunately, we now have the opposite: an ensuing plague of catastrophic politics combined with all the suffering caused by COVID-19. As a citizen, I am committed to methods of nonviolent resistance comparable to what was attempted yet not fully achieved in the 1960's. As an educator, I only hope that my teaching ethics and philosophy may have some effect on achieving what MLK called "the beloved community."
5. I will never forget a quintessential moment that occurred on the morning of Sunday, May 3rd, during my "sheltering-in" experience. It was a Zoom meeting joined by seven former Barnard/Columbia students from around the world. It started when Fatima Bhutto zoomed in from Oxford, U.K., early that a.m. to tell me that a big surprise was at hand. She then proceeded to connect us with Elena in N.Y., James in D.C., David in Cincinnati, Rae, traveling on the east coast, Josh at his jungle retreat in Costa Rica and Leilani in Honolulu. This group of alums whom I hadn't seen in years, had been members of a club formed in 2001 to combat the grave problem of multiple Columbia student suicides. We had regularly corresponded over the years, but only through this miracle of zooming might such a meeting have been possible. As Leilani enabled us to watch the sun rise in Hawaii, any doubts that I had about the expansive capacities of online technology were erased.
Subsequently I connected this group to Courtney Martin, who had inspired us all with her exquisite poetry recitations while she was among my other brilliant Barnard students. I'm indebted to Courtney for innumerable memories of our experiences together in NYC, Oakland and Portland. Now she has enabled me to share these ideas and I'm deeply grateful. Thank you. Sincerely, Dennis Dalton, emeritus prof., Barnard College, ddalton@barnard.edu.
I am already feeling nostalgic for the elements of simplicity of our lives right now. Or, rather, our lives, circa 4 weeks ago. It feels like there was a moment in which all we were tasked with doing was staying healthy and feeding one another. That is a state of being I’m going to miss.
I’m most unclear and worried about my kids’ school life. I wonder so much about how life will be this fall. I haven’t thought too much past the July cutoff for unemployment which will bring its own new issues.
I began a more public writing practice that has been my thread, my connection to the outside. What it's given me in return is a knowing that my imperfect work resonates with others deeply. That feels so good. I’m trying to continue giving that gift, though I’m weary and uncertain how long I can go.
What have you learned about the country you live in, and how has that learning shaped how you want to show up as a citizen? Wow. This one. The structural inequities of our society keep revealing themselves over and over, deeper and deeper. There’s no way to replace the losses my city has seen and I am privileged to feel the impact only tangentially. I worry most about the kids in this city, kids I used to teach and kids who I know need support. I wonder how I can be of service to them; no answer yet, but something I'm working toward.
One night, my partner and I decided to make dumplings for dinner. He insisted, which is his way, on making them from scratch and this process ended up taking longer than expected. That night you could find the four of us, him, me, our twin 6 year olds, all rolling and crimping dumplings at around 8:30pm, way past bedtimes and rising hunger levels. We all kept going, all of us, our hands making the dinner we’d normally be in Chinatown for, instead, at our round kitchen table. It was 9:30pm when we ate. None of that mattered. It was delicious.
What do you anticipate missing about sheltering-in (if anything)? I will miss the quiet streets and the quiet evenings. I will miss knowing that all my neighbours are home, and that (although I am actually going in to work where I am alone in a building all day) there is a sense of community surrounding me. I will miss how open most folks' schedules are...they're available to talk or meet just about whenever I ask. I will miss feeling that I don't need much of anything...I am spending so much less and am less triggered by advertising.
What are your biggest anxieties about things opening back up? That the capitalist machine will kick right back into gear, and be even more driven than before. And, of course, that we won't yet have a vaccine and that there will be many many more deaths.
What have you learned about yourself in these last few months that was unexpected or meaningful to you? I am an introvert who lives and mostly works alone. I have learned that I need people around me more than I thought I did.
What have you learned about the country you live in, and how has that learning shaped how you want to show up as a citizen? I live in Canada, and although things aren't perfect (the gov't is still working on pipelines and relying on big bankers to solve things), I am generally very proud of the way the gov't has support ALL people, no matter their circumstances. That makes me more willing to show up and engage as a citizen.
Share a quintessential story of your sheltering-in — a small moment that really broke/touched/buoyed your heart that you never want to forget.
One night I thought I was having a heart attack, which led to an emergency room visit and a CoVid test. I'm fine...but what I learned is that when people are stressed (in the ER, and in the cardiac clinic), it takes a special effort to be kind and gentle. Some folks were more able to do this than others. As the 'receiver', I was much more aware than usual of how important it is to practice kindness.
1. I will miss my husband's constant presence as he goes back to working in an office. I will miss being able to call out and engage him immediately in anything that sparks my interest. I will miss the increased social connection I am experiencing with more video calls and calls in general from friends. I will miss being able to receive therapy at home. I will miss not having to commute to get connected.
2. Exposure, despite all the safety measures I can take. My elder parents being exposed to it, in India, while I am all the way here unable to help them in any way.
3. I can let go of my spending/hoarding. I do not need to keep buying yarn to feel the "warm fuzzies". I do not need to get my child toys (at exorbitant prices during these times) to make an optimal environment for him. I can find real happiness and peace within myself, and all the connection and stimulation my child needs with what I have at home.
4. I have grown to appreciate a lot how essentials were really available to me here in the USA. At the same time, I have realized what and where are there still flaws and lack of community support. I would like to show up by being more aware of ways I can help and support those who have had very little during these times.
5. I never want to forget the support and kindness that I received. I never want to take for granted most things that I used to - unexpected warmth from strangers, being able to go outdoors whenever we wanted to, knowing that my loved ones are safe and healthy without having to check on them everyday, seeing my toddler play with others his age on preschool.
I will miss spending so much time with my kiddo. As exhausting as parenting a toddler is in normal times, let alone in a pandemic, I have really treasured our time together, which is now longer than the time I had off when she was born. (Side note: America do better on parental leave.)
I'm anxious about missing my kiddo. I'm anxious about navigating a new world. I'm anxious about slipping back into an old world.
I learned that I can ask for help.
I'm not learning as much about the world as I am being sadly affirmed in what, as a scholar of gender studies, I teach in the classroom year after year. Health disparities based on race/gender/class, an economic downturn that is reversing hard won (and long fought for) gender equity goals, the neoliberal state apparatus that forces us to focus on individual rather than structural responses to systemic issues (i.e. wearing masks but not being able to get tested). It's exhausting, but also means that I have been thinking about this a all a long time! I hope that I am able to help my students to think about this all in a more critical way... after all, they are going to inherit it all and need to think differently than the ways of thinking that got us into this mess!
I never want to forget daily walks around the block with my kiddo, which are always reminders of finding joy in the every day.
I will miss a slower pace. I have loved not being overscheduled and having more control over the rhythms of my days. I've learned how little "stuff" I really need to live a meaningful life. I've relearned how to cook from my pantry. I really miss the little daily interactions--the 2-minute conversation with the owner of the wine store, the shared joke with the clerk at the public library. I treasure the daily interactions I still have like the chat with the bagger at my supermarket who has served me for nearly 20 years. I miss my community--my yoga classmates, the people I run into at our monthly ArtWalk. I feel more disconnected from those folks than I do from my inner circle because my close friends and family have made the effort to stay in touch.
My anxieties about opening up are health-related and also about the well-being of my nation. I live in South Carolina, and a lot of people in my town are not taking this threat seriously. They are not wearing masks and they are eager to gather in large groups again. I'm frightened of that because since we started to reopen our state, our daily number of new cases has steadily climbed. Although I knew this already, I am even more aware of how polarized we are as a nation and how ruthless demagogues can harness little things (like wearing masks) to divide us even further. I don't want to be part of that divisiveness, but I can't help but be angry about the disregard for human life displayed by our president and those who feel mobilized by his demagoguery.
I will miss hearing the birds chirp louder than the traffic. I will miss how many people are out strolling , skating, and sitting at their porch. I will miss the guilt-free pleasure of staying home and working from home.
I’m anxious about another wave of contagion and I’m anxious that the different opinions between: the right to not wear a mask and the respect and concern for public safety, will continue to drive a wedge deeper into our country.
A lesson I have re-learned: that if I feel left out of a conversation or forgotten about, that this is often a self indulgent lie. And the way out of this funk is to turn my thoughts and energy outward instead of on the self.
What I have learned about our country: that identity politics have become more a priority than the welfare of our citizens. And this reminds me that I need to listen to both sides of beliefs and be aware that my “side” doesn’t hold the “absolute truth”.
The moment that I hope to never forget: Kathryn and Matt’s wedding and Tom Prince’s poem that captured and enriched that feeling
1. How life got smaller and simpler: other than grocerie shopping, working and taking care of the kids, all the “extra” exciting, stimulating stuff is put on hold.
2. getting sucked up again by overstimulating and exciting “crazy”
3. I don’t need anything. I already have everything and more.
4. That helping is sth you have to learn. In Switzerland people are very introverted and scared to intrude into people’s lives and disturb. Helping my neighbours, other parent-friends and also being let down and disappointed by some close people in my own circle showed me how much I still have to practice the art of helping and being part of a community.
5. The stillness in my heart and mind when everything started to fall apart. Like standing in the middle of a tornado.
I hope I am doing this correctly. I didn't see a comment section so here are my answers.
1. I anticipate that the process of sheltering in will teach me something about myself that I need to learn such as: gratitude, patience, moderation, kindness an generosity.
2. My biggest anxiety is that more will die before a cure is found due to their own reluctance to follow directives.
3. I have learned that I am a better artist than I believed I could be since I now have time to work on painting.
4. The quintessential moment was when I stayed up late, thought I was alone in the living room and looked up to see our year old puppy staring at me. I called her to me to love her and then she trotted off to her bed. She just wanted to day good night.
Sharing a letter I wrote to my 2 year old a couple of days ago... “Dear Z, I was talking with your dad a couple of days ago about the fact that I am so grateful to be able to witness all these little things about you that I wonder if I’d have missed if we weren’t sheltering-in-place and together 24/7. I’m really seeing all these things about you and experiencing them with my whole self, not while I’m rushing out the door or just getting home. Maybe most of these things are just developmental, but they feel so you... The way you are learning to ride your bicycle and are now flying down the sidewalk, the way you are dancing with your dolls and falling in love with so many new exciting books in your bookshelves, the way you are crawling into our laps to read them... the way you are talking about your friends and family and pretend to call them on my phone to talk and see them... the way you are offering so many more kisses and also giving us detailed instructions on what you’d like to do next in the day... the way you are correcting my song lyrics and collecting baby pinecones and flowers and rocks and giving them to your fairy houses in our backyard... all the gardening and watering and watching things grow. The virtual family and friends time. The many rainbows we’ve seen. The hot tubs we’ve shared. The epic hammock swings and a couple of epic naps and nights and mornings too. The joy you experience, the adventures, the hide-and-seek. The tea parties. The bandaids. The music. The Jeopardy and the Mickey Mouse Club House! The way you hold my hand by just putting your fist inside my palm so I can wrap my hand around it. How long will it fit there? I’m so thankful that it fits today.“
My sheltering in has not been literal. I live in a very rural area - I go for walks, I see a handful of friends (one at a time) I take bike rides... but still, I have noticed not just a slowing down, but a freedom from assumptions, from habits of routine and "have to's" - while the virus granted this, it is also in the stars, quite literally - and I use a couple of really good astrological folks for my most reliable "big picture" perspective on all of it... mostly.
My biggest anxiety is that the divisiveness will continue, and that I'll be looking at a lot of masked faces.
I have learned at a deeper level how much I am nourished by the physical beauty of the world (where I live, in Maine) and how much I also need my friends.
I have also observed that the US is an extremely habitual and reactionary place, for the most part. More so than some other countries, it seems. Also, there is a lot of privelege in this country that blinds people to how fortunate they really are.
Mostly, it is the moments of meeting strangers, and really dropping into talking with them, and seeing them that has touched me. Today, I bought a used lawn mower from an elderly man who I so enjoyed talking with, I could have stayed and listened to his life story....
1. I anticipate missing the feeling of "enough time" and the knowing that even with all the time in the world, I do only the things that I feel like doing - as "the list" remains incomplete - hence the list is simply a list and not really my intention.
2. My anxiety about opening up is that until their is a vaccine, we are not "open" and need to act accordingly. But, I soothe my anxiety by realizing that I can and will make personal choices for myself, and do my best to mind my own business and not push against the choices of others.
3. I've learned how quiet it can be in a city and how much I appreciate quiet
4. I feel disappointed in my countrymen and then I wonder if what i "see" reported is simply the minority outliers. I hope that is true, as I want to feel good about my country.
5. The simple act of taking a fancy doughnut to a neighbor brought he and I such joy. The smiling felt good. it really is the simple things
I will miss the inexhaustible ordinariness of life at home. The world outside these walls is awfully scary right now, but when I'm here, with my partner and kids (9 and 7), I feel such joyful ease...most of the time. I've also felt a lot of what they used to call melancholy, but it's like a receptive melancholy. I really like it.
I am worried that we (my family, our neighborhood, our community, distant strangers, me, you) will be unsafe, but mostly I worry that I'm not worried enough. I am worried, but, despite all of the evidence that should persuade me otherwise, I have a lot of faith in people right now.
I didn't expect the limitations of this time to so forcefully remind me of who I really am.
I am daily reminded that one of the greatest evils of evil people is their ability to make other people hate them. The worst among us seem to bring out the worst in others. And so I have to risk love, that harsh and dreadful love in action. I need to show up in radical love knowing I am walking in the presence of everyone one of you who does the same. I don't know where we're all going, but I know we're accompanied in friendship and commitment by each other.
A few weeks into Minnesota's safe at home order, an employee from Saint Paul Public Schools called our house and her first question was, "Is there anything you need?" I said we were doing fine. She said, "Good. We're calling everybody just to make sure." I'm reasonably confident I can't write about the brief but profound connection I felt with this woman. It was the first (but not last!) time a very random interaction with someone brought me to tears. Add that to the list of things I'll miss.
I’ll miss being home so much. I love being home. I love that I don’t have to make excuses to not go to big parties, which I don’t enjoy. I’ll miss religious services from my couch, where I can practice my Hebrew without feeling less than cause it’s not so good.
My biggest anxieties about things opening back up is that things are opening back up. And it doesn’t feel safe. I read about a woman in Nashville who went into a store with a mask on and was called a pussy. I worry that we are not safe. I wonder, sometimes, in my darkest moments, if I will ever feel safe again.
I’ve learned that I am more afraid of dying alone than I am of dying. And that the thought of one of my kids being really sick without me able to be with them, makes me sob like I have never sobbed. I’ve learned that every death matters to me. Every single one. I’ve learned my husband is able to compartmentalize in a way that makes me not like him sometimes. And other times I’m very jealous.
I’ve learned the country I live in … I don’t know that I have the words that can express the sadness …. I’m seeing what I have seen my whole life, only so much bigger, through the lens of this president who, in my view, has no humanity. I want to show up louder, though always with love.
My favorite moment is when my husband and I were sitting in our yard. Our neighbor who lives on our right came out and pulled up her chair – at least 6 feet from ours. A few minutes later, I saw my other neighbor. A woman in her 80’s, who came out with her chair. She said she was not dressed but saw us through her window and wanted to join us. She apologized that her hair was a mess. And we sat. and we chatted about birds and life and it didn’t last long, but it was a moment that is sealed on my heart. She was worried about her hair, and she didn’t want to miss the chance to sit with us. I will never forget the smile on her face when she joined us.
thanks for asking. while not my best writing, capturing this opened my heart a bit
For the first month or two, I would have said I'll miss nothing. I am a college professor and department chair and the pivot to all online was brutal. Plus two of my kids ended up back home unexpectedly and against their will. Once we all settled in, though, and especially once the semester ended, I came to love the unexpected opportunities for laughter and connection. Also all the family meals (especially since the kids help cook and do all the dishes!).
I am anxious that we will open up too quickly and also that people will forget to be kind and generous with each other as we negotiate the new world created by this virus. I am also anxious for my kids. One just graduated college in 2019, another is a junior in college, and the third a senior in high school. I have no template to help me guide them to and through the world that awaits them.
I had lost sight of how blessed I am. I may not have enjoyed working from home, but I have a job. We live in the country and have two porches so we can get outside as much as we want. Plus I am an introvert by nature, so staying home mostly suits me fine. Yes, my kids are missing out on opportunities, but some kids never even get to have such dreams. I have also discovered a much more natural sense of balance in how to introvert - when I need to be alone and when I need to reach out. The forced "on" of the campus environment and life in general had thrown that all out of whack. Now that my mind and energy are more centered, I am rediscovering how much I love to read and write and feel more connected to family and friends.
We are so divided. It hurts my heart. I'm largely a liberal, but conservatives are people too. Yet if I try to inject humanity or nuance into a conversation, more often than not, people immediately dismiss it as complicity with the "other" side. I'm tired of sides. I want us to start doing the hard and dirty work of coming together instead of finding more things to split us apart. So as a first step, I'm a) getting off of social media for a while and b) working on kind, firm, non-shaming ways to call bullshit when I hear it from any side.
On Mother's Day, I decided to take a nap, an act of self-care I almost never indulge in. While I slept, my daughter decided to walk down to the river, an act of self-care she almost never indulges in. I woke to find her standing by my bed, looking more than a little disheveled. Her phone had fallen in the river, and with it, her license and credit/debit cards. I guess it should have been the straw that broke the camel's back. Instead, every time we think of it, it all seems so ludicrous that we end up bursting out laughing instead.
I sincerely hope that the following comments will help, in response to David Byrne's site, "Reasons to be Cheerful".
1. I will miss the ease of online teaching my two courses, Ethics and Philosophy, from students at Lincoln public high school in Portland, OR. While the experiences I've had with these classes since the start of last school term in Sept. have been consistently inspiring, the advantage of Google Meet has proved unexpectedly efficient and rewarding. I have been able, with my co-teacher, Gabrielle, to enter into the homes of these 12 students, engage their parents and siblings, enjoy stimulating conversations on topical issues that would have been unimaginable when school was in regular session, that is, before it closed in mid-March due to COVID-19. The convenience, inclusiveness and accessibility of this educational experience has been so uniquely exciting that I hope it may somehow continue next school year if it opens. If it doesn't, then I'll certainly miss it immensely.
Yet the implications of my admittedly limited experience with online teaching, extend far beyond these high school classes. During my 40 year tenure as a professor at Barnard College, ending with retirement in 2008, I sometimes underrated, even berated, online instruction as inevitably inferior to in-class education. My recent experience, both with an online seminar that I was invited to join at Barnard last March (with the college also closed) and these high school classes, has prompted an about face in this respect.
If we extend this issue still further, then another dimension might be relevant. This relates to a notable controversy about our educational system in America in the media, especially the NY Times op pages, concerning the quality of these two modes of education. Although the epidemic has obviously prompted this exchange, the implications extend beyond potential problems of health on campus this coming academic year.
On the one hand, it's argued that colleges must be open this fall to foster the "fierce intellectual debates that just aren't the same on Zoom..." (Christina Paxson, president of Brown Univ., "College Campuses Must Reopen in the Fall", 4/26/20). Several other reasons are given here to support this imperative, all arguing the case against online education. On the other hand, the argument has been made that "virtual classes could save costs and expand inclusiveness," enabling an equality and quality of education that is increasingly being lost due to exorbitant tuition costs. (Hans Taparia, NYU professor of business, "The Future of College is Online," NY Times, 5/26/20).
Returning to the question, then, we all should be concerned about whether our present educational system fails to meet the needs of less privileged families. As one who has devoted a lifetime to teaching, (I'm age 82) there is no doubt in my mind that online instruction can meet the standards of our conventional in-class system, whether in high schools or colleges. As a citizen and educator in college or high school, I am now committed to the evident quality and accessibility enjoyed by my current class instruction where we do indeed have "fierce intellectual debates" as before, whether compared to my numerous seminars at Barnard or now. Zoom definitely can provide this and in private colleges especially, at a much lower expense than our elite privileged universities demand.
2. Following from my response to Q#1, I now have a heightened concern about opening up to the elitist system of education that has become much worse since I joined the faculty at Barnard College in 1969. I can share better the anxiety of those high school seniors who cannot possibly afford a traditional Ivy league education or comparable to it. We urgently need an inclusive mode of learning in direct contrast to the highly exclusive system characteristic of our unequal capitalist economy.
3. I have learned that my previous views on education were flawed. As indicated above, I had for over four decades, a strong bias against online instruction that precluded any appreciation of its decided advantages or the systemic transformation that may be made through it. Now, as I've watched once again, graduating seniors face severe disappointments over being accepted by top universities and then denied access due to financial incapacity, I've learned that there is another way of making this education affordable if these colleges will open opportunities as indicated above. I was wrong to have accepted this gross injustice and my change of view would not have occurred without the recent narrative that I've related.
4. As a professor of political science, trained in this discipline and teaching it to literally thousands of college students, I honestly did not believe that I could learn at my age much new about the workings of politics in the U.S.
Now, as I've watched with horror the political operations of America, it's evident that the country has descended into unprecedented baseness. The level of incivility and indecency is difficult to witness much less comprehend. I cannot explain to my four grandchildren how our citizenry could allow such political depravity to occur.
My particular area of research and scholarly publications is nonviolent resistance to illegitimate or unjust political authority. From this study, I firmly believe that the only remedy for this current political disaster is a mass civil disobedience movement. I propose this against the background of personal involvement. I was proud to participate in such a political movement during the 1960's under the inspired and inspiring leadership of Martin Luther King, Jr.
From that remarkable event, I learned that even the most egregious evils such as blatant racism can be overcome to a significant degree if we can produce courageous and gifted leaders and profoundly progressive politics.
Unfortunately, we now have the opposite: an ensuing plague of catastrophic politics combined with all the suffering caused by COVID-19. As a citizen, I am committed to methods of nonviolent resistance comparable to what was attempted yet not fully achieved in the 1960's. As an educator, I only hope that my teaching ethics and philosophy may have some effect on achieving what MLK called "the beloved community."
5. I will never forget a quintessential moment that occurred on the morning of Sunday, May 3rd, during my "sheltering-in" experience. It was a Zoom meeting joined by seven former Barnard/Columbia students from around the world. It started when Fatima Bhutto zoomed in from Oxford, U.K., early that a.m. to tell me that a big surprise was at hand. She then proceeded to connect us with Elena in N.Y., James in D.C., David in Cincinnati, Rae, traveling on the east coast, Josh at his jungle retreat in Costa Rica and Leilani in Honolulu. This group of alums whom I hadn't seen in years, had been members of a club formed in 2001 to combat the grave problem of multiple Columbia student suicides. We had regularly corresponded over the years, but only through this miracle of zooming might such a meeting have been possible. As Leilani enabled us to watch the sun rise in Hawaii, any doubts that I had about the expansive capacities of online technology were erased.
Subsequently I connected this group to Courtney Martin, who had inspired us all with her exquisite poetry recitations while she was among my other brilliant Barnard students. I'm indebted to Courtney for innumerable memories of our experiences together in NYC, Oakland and Portland. Now she has enabled me to share these ideas and I'm deeply grateful. Thank you. Sincerely, Dennis Dalton, emeritus prof., Barnard College, ddalton@barnard.edu.
I am already feeling nostalgic for the elements of simplicity of our lives right now. Or, rather, our lives, circa 4 weeks ago. It feels like there was a moment in which all we were tasked with doing was staying healthy and feeding one another. That is a state of being I’m going to miss.
I’m most unclear and worried about my kids’ school life. I wonder so much about how life will be this fall. I haven’t thought too much past the July cutoff for unemployment which will bring its own new issues.
I began a more public writing practice that has been my thread, my connection to the outside. What it's given me in return is a knowing that my imperfect work resonates with others deeply. That feels so good. I’m trying to continue giving that gift, though I’m weary and uncertain how long I can go.
What have you learned about the country you live in, and how has that learning shaped how you want to show up as a citizen? Wow. This one. The structural inequities of our society keep revealing themselves over and over, deeper and deeper. There’s no way to replace the losses my city has seen and I am privileged to feel the impact only tangentially. I worry most about the kids in this city, kids I used to teach and kids who I know need support. I wonder how I can be of service to them; no answer yet, but something I'm working toward.
One night, my partner and I decided to make dumplings for dinner. He insisted, which is his way, on making them from scratch and this process ended up taking longer than expected. That night you could find the four of us, him, me, our twin 6 year olds, all rolling and crimping dumplings at around 8:30pm, way past bedtimes and rising hunger levels. We all kept going, all of us, our hands making the dinner we’d normally be in Chinatown for, instead, at our round kitchen table. It was 9:30pm when we ate. None of that mattered. It was delicious.
What do you anticipate missing about sheltering-in (if anything)? I will miss the quiet streets and the quiet evenings. I will miss knowing that all my neighbours are home, and that (although I am actually going in to work where I am alone in a building all day) there is a sense of community surrounding me. I will miss how open most folks' schedules are...they're available to talk or meet just about whenever I ask. I will miss feeling that I don't need much of anything...I am spending so much less and am less triggered by advertising.
What are your biggest anxieties about things opening back up? That the capitalist machine will kick right back into gear, and be even more driven than before. And, of course, that we won't yet have a vaccine and that there will be many many more deaths.
What have you learned about yourself in these last few months that was unexpected or meaningful to you? I am an introvert who lives and mostly works alone. I have learned that I need people around me more than I thought I did.
What have you learned about the country you live in, and how has that learning shaped how you want to show up as a citizen? I live in Canada, and although things aren't perfect (the gov't is still working on pipelines and relying on big bankers to solve things), I am generally very proud of the way the gov't has support ALL people, no matter their circumstances. That makes me more willing to show up and engage as a citizen.
Share a quintessential story of your sheltering-in — a small moment that really broke/touched/buoyed your heart that you never want to forget.
One night I thought I was having a heart attack, which led to an emergency room visit and a CoVid test. I'm fine...but what I learned is that when people are stressed (in the ER, and in the cardiac clinic), it takes a special effort to be kind and gentle. Some folks were more able to do this than others. As the 'receiver', I was much more aware than usual of how important it is to practice kindness.
1. I will miss my husband's constant presence as he goes back to working in an office. I will miss being able to call out and engage him immediately in anything that sparks my interest. I will miss the increased social connection I am experiencing with more video calls and calls in general from friends. I will miss being able to receive therapy at home. I will miss not having to commute to get connected.
2. Exposure, despite all the safety measures I can take. My elder parents being exposed to it, in India, while I am all the way here unable to help them in any way.
3. I can let go of my spending/hoarding. I do not need to keep buying yarn to feel the "warm fuzzies". I do not need to get my child toys (at exorbitant prices during these times) to make an optimal environment for him. I can find real happiness and peace within myself, and all the connection and stimulation my child needs with what I have at home.
4. I have grown to appreciate a lot how essentials were really available to me here in the USA. At the same time, I have realized what and where are there still flaws and lack of community support. I would like to show up by being more aware of ways I can help and support those who have had very little during these times.
5. I never want to forget the support and kindness that I received. I never want to take for granted most things that I used to - unexpected warmth from strangers, being able to go outdoors whenever we wanted to, knowing that my loved ones are safe and healthy without having to check on them everyday, seeing my toddler play with others his age on preschool.
I will miss spending so much time with my kiddo. As exhausting as parenting a toddler is in normal times, let alone in a pandemic, I have really treasured our time together, which is now longer than the time I had off when she was born. (Side note: America do better on parental leave.)
I'm anxious about missing my kiddo. I'm anxious about navigating a new world. I'm anxious about slipping back into an old world.
I learned that I can ask for help.
I'm not learning as much about the world as I am being sadly affirmed in what, as a scholar of gender studies, I teach in the classroom year after year. Health disparities based on race/gender/class, an economic downturn that is reversing hard won (and long fought for) gender equity goals, the neoliberal state apparatus that forces us to focus on individual rather than structural responses to systemic issues (i.e. wearing masks but not being able to get tested). It's exhausting, but also means that I have been thinking about this a all a long time! I hope that I am able to help my students to think about this all in a more critical way... after all, they are going to inherit it all and need to think differently than the ways of thinking that got us into this mess!
I never want to forget daily walks around the block with my kiddo, which are always reminders of finding joy in the every day.
I will miss a slower pace. I have loved not being overscheduled and having more control over the rhythms of my days. I've learned how little "stuff" I really need to live a meaningful life. I've relearned how to cook from my pantry. I really miss the little daily interactions--the 2-minute conversation with the owner of the wine store, the shared joke with the clerk at the public library. I treasure the daily interactions I still have like the chat with the bagger at my supermarket who has served me for nearly 20 years. I miss my community--my yoga classmates, the people I run into at our monthly ArtWalk. I feel more disconnected from those folks than I do from my inner circle because my close friends and family have made the effort to stay in touch.
My anxieties about opening up are health-related and also about the well-being of my nation. I live in South Carolina, and a lot of people in my town are not taking this threat seriously. They are not wearing masks and they are eager to gather in large groups again. I'm frightened of that because since we started to reopen our state, our daily number of new cases has steadily climbed. Although I knew this already, I am even more aware of how polarized we are as a nation and how ruthless demagogues can harness little things (like wearing masks) to divide us even further. I don't want to be part of that divisiveness, but I can't help but be angry about the disregard for human life displayed by our president and those who feel mobilized by his demagoguery.
I will miss hearing the birds chirp louder than the traffic. I will miss how many people are out strolling , skating, and sitting at their porch. I will miss the guilt-free pleasure of staying home and working from home.
I’m anxious about another wave of contagion and I’m anxious that the different opinions between: the right to not wear a mask and the respect and concern for public safety, will continue to drive a wedge deeper into our country.
A lesson I have re-learned: that if I feel left out of a conversation or forgotten about, that this is often a self indulgent lie. And the way out of this funk is to turn my thoughts and energy outward instead of on the self.
What I have learned about our country: that identity politics have become more a priority than the welfare of our citizens. And this reminds me that I need to listen to both sides of beliefs and be aware that my “side” doesn’t hold the “absolute truth”.
The moment that I hope to never forget: Kathryn and Matt’s wedding and Tom Prince’s poem that captured and enriched that feeling
1. How life got smaller and simpler: other than grocerie shopping, working and taking care of the kids, all the “extra” exciting, stimulating stuff is put on hold.
2. getting sucked up again by overstimulating and exciting “crazy”
3. I don’t need anything. I already have everything and more.
4. That helping is sth you have to learn. In Switzerland people are very introverted and scared to intrude into people’s lives and disturb. Helping my neighbours, other parent-friends and also being let down and disappointed by some close people in my own circle showed me how much I still have to practice the art of helping and being part of a community.
5. The stillness in my heart and mind when everything started to fall apart. Like standing in the middle of a tornado.
From Andrea Rogers:
I hope I am doing this correctly. I didn't see a comment section so here are my answers.
1. I anticipate that the process of sheltering in will teach me something about myself that I need to learn such as: gratitude, patience, moderation, kindness an generosity.
2. My biggest anxiety is that more will die before a cure is found due to their own reluctance to follow directives.
3. I have learned that I am a better artist than I believed I could be since I now have time to work on painting.
4. The quintessential moment was when I stayed up late, thought I was alone in the living room and looked up to see our year old puppy staring at me. I called her to me to love her and then she trotted off to her bed. She just wanted to day good night.