Not long after the start of the new year I had, at the time, what seemed like a really good idea. I wanted to tell this story about the last year of my life from St. Patrick’s Day 2019 to St. Patrick’s Day 2020. It was a year peppered with some pretty big changes, milestones and life events. I planned to start putting it all down into words some time in early March. While I was brainstorming this idea, news began circulating about a viral outbreak in Wuhan, China. In early January, it was believed the virus originated at a live food market, and most likely spread via animal-to-human. Soon, it became clear the virus could also be transmitted from human-to-human contact. By the end of the month, the World Health Organization declared “a public health emergency of international concern.”
In February a name was given to the deadly disease caused by the virus, COVID-19, as major outbreaks were seen in Italy and Iran. News about the virus was streaming in a wide channel of minute-by-minute reporting. Ever changing and sometimes conflicting information made it difficult to understand how serious the situation was. The last day in February I was at a brewery with friends celebrating BA’s (my girlfriend) birthday. We talked, in the crowded and boisterous space, about anything and everything. What’s going on with the Sixers!? Look at that dog over there! What are they serving at the food truck? I can’t wait for nice spring weather! Is Pilot Pete really going to choose Hannah Ann instead of Madison? Conversation about the virus was also a point of topic. I remember talking about an upcoming trip to Colorado planned for the second week in May. BA and I were going to bring disinfectant wipes on the plane, to clean our seats.
March brought some harsh realities to the Philadelphia area, and many parts of the United States. On March 11th The President banned most travel from Europe as the World Health Organization officially declared the coronavirus a pandemic and stock markets plunged. That same night an NBA player tested positive for COVID-19 and the season was suspended. Two days later The President declared a national emergency. In the following days schools were closed and local governments advised against large gatherings. First they said no crowds of 250 people. Then 50. Then the CDC recommended no gatherings of 10 or more. Restaurants, bars, and “non-essential” businesses all began shuttering their doors. With everything happening, the plan to write about my year in review was ending up a distant blip in my rearview.
I’ve never felt entirely comfortable writing about myself. Will I sound too preachy? Who wants to hear what I have to say anyway? What makes my experiences more noteworthy than anyone else’s? These questions, speed bumps in my usual creative process, seemed like impenetrable fortress walls this time around. It did not feel like the appropriate time to write about, basically, all the good things that happened to me in the last 365 days. People losing their jobs. Loved ones dying in hospitals, their families unable to be with them. Everyday heroes stepping up to work on the front lines so others can receive medical care, food, transportation, and countless other necessities. Everyone being challenged, asked to alter their lives so we can get through this unimaginable time. There was no way I could frame my personal story as suitable or relevant to the current chaos of the pandemic.
One of the strangest products of the pandemic is this feeling that the world has simultaneously slowed down to a near halt while also hurtling through a whirlwind of rapid change. Taking the dog for a walk, in our masks, BA and I see limited passersby. The neighborhood in Philadelphia where we live sits along a usually bustling corridor of small businesses and restaurants. Today it is like a ghost town. Yet, underneath the still surface a cacophony of shop owners, chefs, city councilpersons, and residents scramble to make sense of this new normal. How are we to operate, to be decisive in times of such uncertainty. This unsettling dance is happening in every neighborhood, in every city and town, all over America and other parts of the world.
Of course, the world has not come to a halt. We trot along. Consuming our favorite content on streaming services. Extended families and faraway friends are reconnecting via video chats. Businesses are shifting toward e-commerce platforms. Many people fortunate to still hold jobs are realizing they have, and always had, the capacity to work remotely. Babies are being born (I know three new babies born in April!). Parents are doing incredible things to educate and entertain their young children. The world is still made of endless new moments filled with beauty and pain, uncertainty and sadness, life and death, and all that we could ever possibly conceive.
The previous sentence was ripped from the caption of an Instagram post I recently wrote in the midst of the pandemic. In the caption I said, “On the news radio I heard ‘we’re living in unprecedented, extraordinary times.’ There are no more ordinary moments. Perhaps I was naive to think they ever existed in the first place. Those ostensibly mundane, trivial, insignificant slices of time. Illusions, meant to steal us away from the brilliance of life. When, in fact, each of us, and the myriad of moments since time immemorial, are inherently extraordinary by our mere existence. In all that is chaos, this swirling, ever expanding universe of stardust and cosmic waves. It all came together, forming this exact moment. A moment filled with beauty and pain, uncertainty and sadness, life and death, and all that we could possibly conceive. It is a moment unlike any other, yet no different from those before or after.”
With that mindset, the idea of writing a story about the last 365 days of my life doesn’t seem so self-centered anymore. Well, at least, no more self-centered than it initially was before the pandemic. Don’t worry, I’m not about to launch into that story, now 1,000 words into this current essay. It will have to wait. But the world, and life, certainly won’t wait. As quickly as the coronavirus moved around the globe, the days and weeks disappearing into the past, we were forced to adapt just as quickly. Some of our deepest anxieties and fears became all too real. Still, hope remains even more real. It may be somewhat painful to look back and recall the world before the pandemic. When times seemed more convenient. Though, it may also be quite reassuring to reflect on happier times, maybe even sad times, knowing a day will come when we return to some semblance of normalcy. Our pasts, after all, are what inform our futures. I still plan to write about my year in review, but I’m also looking forward to writing the year to come.
I hope you all are staying safe and healthy. We will get through this, together.