OP-ED: Some good from the COVID-19 pandemic
In two New York Times-related newsletters, I’ve recently read opinion pieces by Ross Douthat and David Wallace-Wells that explored the aftermath of the early and most intense COVID-19 era. In these commentaries, both the past and future were explored from the perspective of progress and the regression of our society caused by the presence of this modern-day plague.
One of the pieces seemed focused primarily on the “unwinding of years and decades of progress,” while the other attempted to objectively weigh the reality that, in spite of this global plague where millions died, “We’re still in a basically familiar landscape that looks more like the George W. Bush era than some post-apocalyptic desolation.”
One of the writers emphasized the “rise in mortality, spike in violent crime, the learning loss for children, and higher homicide rates.” He didn’t mention the higher suicide rates, but higher inflation was acknowledged.
In an earlier column, Douthat argued that “the pandemic was an accelerant, hurrying along social, political, and technological changes that might otherwise have unfolded more slowly.”
As a parent and grandparent, however, I observed something else that was not mentioned, not emphasized, and not appropriately evaluated, and that something was the outpouring of love, empathy, kindness, and caring. It reminded me of something Fred Rogers used to say, “When I was a boy, and I would see scary things in the news, my mother would say to me, ‘Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.'”
Maybe I was lucky, maybe it’s because I came from a different era, or maybe I just feel things more intensely, but from my perspective, a series of deep meaningful emotions were part of the journey as well. The helpers were there and remained there throughout it all.
The most challenging emotion to control throughout the entire first wave was that of fear. With some immunocompromised close relatives, we were constantly attempting to hold back that fear of an unnecessary loss of a loved one, but that fear turned to pure nurturing care when our kids and grandchildren all were infected on that first go-round. We made food, bought treats, delivered medicine, and took care of them in any way that we could as they struggled through that first wave, but they lived, and for that we were incredibly grateful. They did the same thing for us when we were infected a year later.
The other challenge was to ensure connectivity in spite of the distance we were encouraged to keep, and we connected by using technologies that had been developed for business and casual activities. FaceTime became a lifeline. We also used social apps that enabled us to share the spirit of dinners. While practicing appropriate distancing in our garage or unfinished basement, we had game nights where we laughed, played, and enjoyed each other’s company.
Even though the worst seems over for now, we’ve recognized the absolute fragility of our existence, and we continue to connect and still connect daily via phone, email, Snapchat, FaceTime, and drive-by’s, but most importantly, we took and still take the time to say, “I love you” every chance we get. Because others were not as careful, lucky, or protected, and some lives ended in tragedy, it intensified our care for and nurturing of each other.
The pandemic also put another generation in clearer perspective for me because my father was born in 1917, right before the last major outbreak. As I dug more deeply into that era, I could see similarities. It did, though, also explain my father’s commitment to Sunday dinner with his folks, and to providing as much love, support, and kindness as possible to his entire family.
COVID-19 was awful, but we did easily identify the caregivers and know what they are made of and can completely understand that commitment.
Nick Jacobs is a Windber resident.