20 20 Hindsight

20 20 Hindsight Remembering the Year of COVID-19

A photojournal made during the year of the COVID-19 pandemic. Journal entries and photographs by Susan R. Hanes, ©2020-2021

20 20 Hindsight Remembering the Year of COVID-19 A compilation of journal entries, clippings, and photos collected from the beginning of 2020 to the time of our vaccinations the following Spring.

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The year began with hope and excitement as we looked forward to the beginning of a new decade.

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On January 1, I flew down to Atlanta for Maggie’s grandmother’s 100th birthday celebration at the Piedmont Driving Club, continuing to Jacksonville to see Em. It was the last time I would ever see her.

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Outings, parties, and gatherings with friends…

2020 continued its festive start.

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In early March, I met my friend Ann in New York and attended the International Antiquarian Book Fair and the annual meeting of the Fellowship of American Bibliophilic Societies. News of a coronavirus was starting to get our attention and I was hesitant to go, but we donned plastic gloves and armed ourselves with sanitizer and proceeded with our plans. I intended to see Em the following week.

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But then…

March 16, 2020 I am amazed to think that I was writing about my busy trip to New

Beyond Chicago, the whole of America is shutting down, with everything from music festivals to trade shows to major league sports canceling events. Concert halls, museums—even Disneyland and Broadway

York just a few days ago. Now the authorities are seeing a surge in

—are dark and silent. We are beginning to see that what we thought might

coronavirus cases there, with nearly 1000 confirmed already. Mayor de

last a couple of weeks will realistically stretch into months. Life feels

Blasio is saying that the hospitals are not prepared to deal with a rapid surge

uncertain as we realize that there is no clear way forward. As one young

of patients and they have no idea what it will be like two weeks or a month

woman said, “It’s the uncertainly that is so hard to deal with. Everything is

from now. That is hard for me to comprehend when I think that I was there

a black hole.” The feeling is reminiscent of September 11, when Americans

just last week.

were waiting for the other shoe to fall. The difference now is that rather than

In Chicago, things are heating up as well. There are over 100 cases confirmed in Illinois now, a number of them in Chicago. George and I went

people coming together to comfort each other, this pandemic, by necessity, is suppressing the human need to be together.

out on Saturday to do a few errands, picking up my antique clock from the repair shop and my 2019 book of letters from the binder. On the way back, we saw that the bars along Division Street, near our apartment, were packed with groups out celebrating St. Patrick’s Day, a big event in Chicago. In spite of the pleas from the Governor of Illinois to practice “social distancing,” it didn’t look like anyone was paying the slightest attention.

Apparently, these people think that the virus only affects the elderly and that nothing can happen to them.

But since Saturday, things have really changed. At a press conference yesterday, Governor Pritzker ordered all bars and restaurants across Illinois to close to dine-in customers. This morning, the Mayor announced that all Chicago schools will close tomorrow. The churches are closed now, as well as clubs and museums and theaters. One of the city’s largest beauty salons, where I had a nail appointment this week, just sent me a message that they have closed. Even dentists have been told to avoid seeing patients. I am waiting to see if the place I go for my hair will be closed as well—I almost hope it will be so I don’t have to make a decision as to whether to go or not.

Maybe now is the time to let my hair go grey.

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…the day I left New York

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March 22, 2020

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March 22, 2020

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March 23, 2020 The US is stepping up its response to the coronavirus. As of this

George and I are keeping busy and are surprised at how quickly each

morning, Illinois, New Jersey, and New York have joined California in

day passes. We get up late (since I often wake up during the night) and

ordering all residents to stay in their homes unless they have essential

after breakfast, work on our computers or undertake tasks around the

reasons to go out. These lockdowns include the three biggest cities in

house. We are going to have to do our own housekeeping for a while, as our

America—New York, Los Angeles, and Chicago. Yesterday when I was

cleaning man can no longer come into the building. We have plenty to

talking to my mother, she wryly commented, “So you always wanted to

read and plan to start watching the 7-hour War and Peace this evening.

live in a big city, huh?” The lockdown actually begins today, but in

As my high school American History teacher once said, “No educated

reality, we have been “sheltering in place” for the past week. It is hard to

person is ever bored.” And she was right. Anxious and stressed, yes, but

believe that last Saturday, we were doing small errands; admittedly, with a

bored, no.

great deal of care. Now the only places we can go are the grocery store and

The news coming out this afternoon is more ominous than before,

the pharmacy. The good news is that the pharmacy will deliver and the

and I am trying to hold down my anxiety. I admit that it is not easy and I

grocery store has set up special hours for older people to shop two

am grateful to have my bike usable so that I can burn off some of my stress.

mornings a week, so our probability of exposure is greatly reduced.

Being here in this big city makes the crisis seem much more real and I

I am glad that the Governor of Illinois is being proactive about

worry about my family and particularly about George, who thinks he is

taking steps to “flatten the curve” since the response from the Trump

invincible. Since last week, the number of cases in Illinois has risen from

Administration has been far from comforting. Trump has substituted his

160 to 753. This virus is not going away any time in the foreseeable

wild campaign rallies with daily press briefings that usually amount to his

future. The world will be different when this is over; may it be a better one

assuring us that everything is under control and then saying something

for us all.

that is blatantly untrue, followed by blasting any journalist who asks him a question about what he has just said. It is patently clear that he is in way over his head and I just hope that his incompetence does not cost lives. He does seem to be picking up the Democrats’ talking points but the chaos in his Administration makes implementing anything a slow process.

As for us, we are getting into a routine of sorts. My bike was delivered with the wrong electrical cord so I have been sorting that out. I was disappointed when I was not able to use it, but reminded myself that it was but a small problem. We now have it set up in the window of the living room so that I have an interesting view down the street as I work out. We figure that we can move it to the back of the apartment once all 12

this is over; right now, we won’t be having any visitors to impress.

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March 26, 2020 Here, as in other countries, a coronavirus culture appears to be emerging as people creatively find ways to deal with the fear, the isolation, and the restrictions on daily life. Just like the example set by the Italians who sing from their balconies, good things are happening already. The Met is offering to stream operas for free during the pandemic. Cable TV companies are offering free stations with educational games and fun pastimes for children confined to home.

Subscription online newspapers and magazines are waiving their fees to provide free information about the coronavirus. On Twitter, Gen Xers are sharing tweets of pride at being self-sufficient in quarantine situations, a capacity they developed growing up as the “latchkey” kids of working, non-indulgent parents. As time goes on, I am sure we will see more examples of people finding ways to survive this unimaginable situation.

As for me, to allay my mother’s disappointment that neither Mike and Carter nor I can come to see her, I suggested that we have our own FaceTime Happy Hour. Each evening at 5:00 her time, we pour ourselves a glass of wine and chat together on the computer. She told me that she looks forward to it every evening—and I do, too. This will become more and more important to her as Fleet Landing imposes more restrictions on the residents’ movements and activities. She told me that just this evening, the dining room is closed and she will receive all her meals in her room; no more will she be able to meet friends for dinner. George and I have stocked up the pantry and bought a suitable supply of toilet paper and cleaning products.

Hopefully, we will still be able to go outside for fresh air as long as we keep our distance from other people.

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We had planned to resume our cancelled trip to England in May 2020, but again, it was not to happen.

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Our 2020 World

NYT Feb 3, 2021

March 29, 2020

COVID Survival Kit

Yesterday, I participated in a video conference with the IWA board. It worked pretty well; I am glad that we figured it out as I think we’re going to have to depend on web-based meetings for a while. I just heard that the US now has the highest number of coronavirus cases in the world. At nearly 120,000, the US has surpassed China. Coincidentally, Chicago Mayor Lori Lightfoot gave a press briefing yesterday afternoon in which she lambasted the people who have packed the parks and lakefront, ignoring her order to keep six feet away from others. She said that at this rate, there will be more than 40,000 coronavirus cases in Chicago alone in the next couple of weeks. The Army Corps of Engineers is now in the process of converting McCormick Place, Chicago’s huge convention center, into a 3,000-bed hospital.

This drumbeat of bad news is affecting my concentration. I don’t feel like reading or doing any work for IWA or Caxton or my other organizations and can’t seem to stick to any task for very long. The one thing that I do enjoy is being creative.

Mayor Lori Lightfoot 24

Book Spine “Haiku”

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GEL

SRH 26

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Oh the Places You’ll Stay (after Dr. Suess)

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George chooses books for their interest to him and not for their rarity. Books and cooking are carrying him through these days.

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April 5, 2020 Last week, there were 120,000 cases of Covid-19 in the United States. As I write this, the number has passed 300,000 (10,000 in Illinois) with over 8,000 deaths. If nothing else, this terrible plague is pointing out the weakness and inequity in our economic system. After all this is over, I hope that we develop a way to care for all of our citizens, not just the few who can afford it. There are going to be an awful lot of people who are left with nothing and we are going to have to figure out how to deal with it. Perhaps that will demonstrate what real religious faith is, rather than the fearful people who seek only for themselves.

Every afternoon at 2:00, I get on my bike and call my mother. We talk for around a half hour or so each day.

I then continue on the bike to complete an hour. It is fun to have the bike by the window. I can see all the people who have ventured out; most are young but there are a few older folks, wearing masks. Most of the young ones don’t. That is why I do not go out very often. It is too much hassle to try and avoid other people by turning around or crossing the street. I have a feeling of unreality as we stay at home, week after week, when others seem to have a greater sense of normalcy. I am sure that we listen to too much news, and are therefore obsessed with the situation and with keeping our hands washed and the surfaces in the apartment clean.

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April 10, 2020 In the evenings, when George and I sit in the living room, I can see partially into a particular window in the building across the street. Over the past few weeks, I have noticed that whoever is there has the TV going and the overhead lights on. Nothing special, but I just notice it each evening when I sit down. After a while, I started idly wondering who lived there. I have a friend who lives in that building, so one day I texted her to ask if she knew. She didn’t, but became interested and decided to ask the doorman.

We counted windows and she and the doorman figured out that it was an apartment on the fouth floor. Then she sent me a text, saying that it was really a case for Nancy Drew. Her doorman told her that no one lives in that apartment. A very strange man used to live there. The neighbors called him The Maniac behind his back. Apparently, he was a very angry man and pretty obnoxious to everyone around him. About nine months ago, he fatally shot himself. The doorman told her that the apartment does not appear to be on the market.

He said that the person who is the man’s Power of Attorney supposedly comes over to the apartment to check on it. The doorman was shocked to hear that the TV was on, as the PoA is the only one with access. So, we were thinking that perhaps the PoA has decided to live there instead of trying to sell it.

This has become part of my evening entertainment as we hunker down in our apartment. Is this not like a version of Rear Window? I feel like James Stewart.

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May 3, 2020 These times we are living in become more and more complicated. I

As the protests increase by frustrated people who want and need to

wonder if life will ever be a semblance of the way it was. As George and I sit

return to work, I am seeing a world split into the young and healthy who

in the living room in the evenings, we try to stay positive, remembering the

will work and go to restaurants and attend concerts and sporting events,

rich experiences we have enjoyed over the years. Surrounded by the travel

and the older and unwell, who will spend their final days sitting at home

journals I have made, we bask in their presence. Still, it is hard to imagine

alone. That is a grim thought, and certainly not what I was contemplating

ever traveling again like we once did.

for my “golden years.”

I was talking to Mike yesterday, and shared with him my concern that

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lady. But all I can do now is stay inside and watch the weeks pass by.

I realize that by living in the middle of the city, my viewpoint is

I might not see their baby for up to two years. “Two YEARS??” he

skewed. Whenever I step outside the door, I am faced with scores of walkers

responded. “You’ll be here by Labor Day!” I truly cannot imagine that I will

and runners who do not respect distancing practices and who feel

feel comfortable getting on a plane by then. And his confidence that I would

constrained by masks. I am taking a risk every time I leave our apartment, as

makes me fearful that we will end up in a sparring match about our

is George when he makes his weekly trip to the grocery. Do we just take our

approach to the pandemic. I realize that I am fast becoming a nervous old

chances on living or dying with this virus?

On one of our family FaceTimes I read Rowen a funny rabbit ABC book written and illustrated by our friend, Hannah Batsel. Although it worked pretty well, I think it might have been hard for Rowe to see the book over the computer. Still, it made his Grandmother Moonie happy and he did seem to enjoy it.

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May 31, 2020 What a week this has been! It started off with a nice Memorial Day

neighborhood looked like. I walked south down State to Rush, then on Oak

and many (too many) people out together in groups, enjoying the beautiful

Street where all the fancy boutiques are, continuing to Michigan Avenue

weather and the official start of summer.

and the Magnificent Mile to Neiman Marcus. What I found was shocking,

The whole world changed on Friday, when the video of the horrific

heartbreaking. Store after store had been broken into and looted. Shattered

death of George Floyd at the hands (rather the knee) of Derek Chauvin, a

windows and glass were everywhere. Men were out, sweeping up the rubble,

policeman in Minneapolis, became public knowledge. What started off as a

repairing what they could, and boarding up the windows in preparation for

peaceful protest by local people of all races evolved into wanton destruction

what tonight might bring. People were walking around in a daze, most with

and chaos, leading the Governor of Minnesota to claim that the violence had

their iPhones, talking to friends and taking pictures. As I walked along those

been perpetrated by organized extremists.

familiar streets, I felt a deep sense of sorrow. Looking up at the brilliant blue

Not only in Minneapolis but in most large cities all over the United

sky, I thought of that same sky, nearly 20 years ago—the sky on September

States, violent clashes have broken out between police and protesters:

11, 2001. On that day, I remember that everyone was asking themselves how

Atlanta, New York, Nashville, Denver, Seattle, Miami, Los Angeles, Dallas,

such a tragedy could happen under that beautiful sky. I had that same

and Chicago, to name but a few. As I write, the National Guard has been

feeling today.

called out in at least 16 states, including Illinois. This morning, Trump went on Twitter to designate ANTIFA a terrorist organization, blaming it for the violence and destruction. But ANTIFA is not just one organization, but a loosely linked assembly of leftist groups who support opposition to far right groups. Trump’s rush to label these activists as terrorists can be used to apply it to any counter-protestor of white supremacists—dangerous territory.

Last night, the chaos came to Chicago. What began as a peaceful, multi-racial protest quickly turned violent. Businesses were looted and cars set ablaze from the downtown area all the way north to within a couple of blocks of our home. Chicago’s Mayor Lightfoot hastily called for a curfew, beginning at 9:00 PM last night until 6:00 this morning. Major roads were closed and the bridges were raised. We saw that the traffic on our sleepy parkway was bumper to bumper as people tried to find their way out of the city. It took our building manager three hours to get home, since the major throughways were blocked.

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This morning, I got up early and went for a walk to see what my

May 31, 2020

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May 31, 2020

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May 31, 2020

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June 7, 2020 Although there is a feel of “opening up” in the air, I fear that the recent protests and demonstrations will result in a spike of Coronavirus cases, not only in the US, but around the world. I was amazed at how the unrest in the US migrated so forcefully to other countries. The US may be losing its influence in the world in many ways, but evidence showed this week that it is still present.

This week, I ventured out of the apartment a little more, although I am still trying to be careful. I was on my way to do an errand, which took me south of Division Street. When I got there, I found the National Guard posted with a city vehicle blocking the way. The streets had been closed off from there to the Loop in preparation for a protest that was getting underway. Not even pedestrians were permitted access unless they were residents. The event closed off the area for miles, as 20,000 marchers took over Lake Shore Drive, with a crowd that stretched for seven blocks. The city heaved a collective sigh of relief as things remained peaceful in spite of the crowds. The Mayor was happy enough with the outcome to lift the nightly curfew that she had imposed after the looting and vandalism of last week. So now we will wait and see what happens next.

Waiting for what comes next seems to be my way of life these days. I am still finding it hard to relax, and sleep continues to be a problem for me. The stress is like a distant hum deep in my head that never totally goes away. I know this is not healthy and try different solutions, including writing, or exercising, or reading, or meditating—or having a cocktail. It just seems to be there all the time. I suppose it comes from the wrenching change from our busy lives to the restraint of the lockdown and the gloom of the past months. The uncertainty that is a product of the Coronavirus, the civil unrest, our lack of leadership, and my concern for our world has become a cloud of anxiety. Not since the aftermath of 9/11 have I had such a sense of foreboding.

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June 7-14, 2020

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June 11, 2020 It was such a beautiful day today that I made myself get out and take a walk. The sky was brilliant blue, flowers were blooming everywhere, and the chirping of birds was so loud that it even drowned out the humming of car engines.

The park was full of people, most of them jogging, some walking dogs, some carrying children; few wearing masks.

Despite alarming indications that the Coronavirus is intensifying, it seems that people have decided that they are tired of the whole quarantine thing and are going to return to their normal lives. Trump announced this morning that COVID is now reduced to “ashes,” further encouraging Americans to break any resolve to follow expert advice. As I walked along, masked and hatted (to cover my awful hair), I felt like an alien from another planet. I felt no joy in being out; only confusion and sadness. How did our lives get so out of our control so quickly? I am lost. I have found some comfort in my projects, writing and working on my photographs and books, but when I lie in bed at night, I think, why? What is the use of any of it? All these papers and books… who is going to be interested in any of it? A lot of clutter. And I feel so far from my children. We talk seldom, even as the baby’s birth is only a few weeks away. It is hard to see friends. Everyone is isolated in their own homes; Zoom meetings are unfulfilling and exhausting and visits over masks and distance just seem like too much effort. I feel very alone right now.

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June 17, 2020 A lovely thing just happened. Back before the Corona crisis, we decided to order an icon from Maria Tsiboka, the icon painter we visited in Mistras when we were in Greece in 2012. She painted it for us and shipped it in early March, but it got stuck in New York in the worst of the Coronavirus outbreak and we thought it was lost. We had given up hope of ever getting it. And then on Friday, the day after my sad jouornal entry, it was delivered. As Maria had instructed, we opened it very carefully. When I saw it, I was moved to tears. That the beautiful icon came to us in the midst of this terrible time in human history seemed to be a message of hope. When I look at it, I feel the faith that went into her loving depiction of Christ. It reached us just when I needed it, and at a time when so many aspects of Christianity have been appropriated for the wrong purposes.

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June 18, 2020

Today I went on another walk, this time with my IWA friends. We walked along the Chicago River on another brilliant day; the water was a beautiful aqua color. The tour boats have just started up again, with all the passengers properly distanced. It was nice to see Chicago coming to life—as long as we don’t overdo it. The number of virus cases has spiked in some areas, such as Arizona and Florida, and I hope that it doesn't worsen here. But it is hard to tell anyone what to do, especially the people who feel invincible and are ready to get on with their lives. By the time I got back home, I had walked five miles.

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July 12, 2020 The new baby Hanes is here! William Tucker Hanes was born at 9:15 on Friday night, weighing 7 pounds, 3 ounces. He looks just like Mike did. Baby and mother are fine, and they are coming home today.

Jen went into labor on her own and delivered the baby after a little more than two hours. She is OK, but the labor was intense and they were not able to give her anything to relieve the pain. Mike said that she was amazing; he has said that every time she has given birth. The arrival of Tucker is the bright spot in this otherwise dreadful year.

My big outing this week was a trip back to the dentist. We still are not doing much. The Coronavirus seems to be hitting the young adults more than anyone, and they are the ones who go out to the restaurants and bars. Rush and Division Streets near us have been closed off and tables are set up outside in the street. However, there are so many people sitting out and walking by that we don’t feel that it would be very smart for us to try it ourselves. The Coronavirus has had such a huge effect on everyone. We are fortunate that we are not trying to get to work or worrying about our children going to school. If it just means that we cannot go out to a restaurant for a while, I think we can handle that. Thank goodness for my exercise bike and the park, where I try to escape each day for a little while.

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August 10, 2020 Today, more than 100 people were arrested following another night of looting and unrest all over the city, both in the Loop, along Michigan Avenue in our neighborhood, and further north in the Lincoln Park area where there are more upscale stores. Bands of thugs, coming in caravans of cars, smashed into stores and took off with all they could carry.

Those stores—including Tiffany and Louis Vuitton—have been broken into and looted again. Many of these places were just starting to reopen after the assault on the city following the death of George Floyd on May 25. Apparently, this started as a result of a police shooting earlier in the day in which a young man fired at police as he was running away and the police shot back. He was not killed, but this act was enough to set these people off on a night of destruction. There is now a heavy police presence all over the downtown area, with an 8:00 PM curfew and the bridges up. There will be a neighborhood watch in effect for the foreseeable future, for which I am grateful, but it is all very frightening. George’s doctor’s appointment today was cancelled due to the unrest everywhere. I don’t even feel comfortable walking to the corner right now, and neither do my neighbors. There is something really unsettling in the air. Strange people around, loud motorcycles, crazy driving on our neighborhood street. There is a dangerous storm predicted this afternoon with winds up to 100 mph but maybe that will clear out these people. Each day brings its own weirdness.

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The inspiring Gary Lewis is working to make a change for the better 52

August 22, 2020 We have had no further rioting in Chicago, but a feeling of disquiet pervades the city. I have gone out for short walks or to meet a friend for coffee but it is without joy. I love my city, and it is hurting. I read the other day that stores are starting to put up riot glass to avoid being looted again. We are having a security team conduct an inspection this week to see if we need to take further measures to secure our building. As the election nears, this feeling will only increase, I fear. Trump has already announced that if he loses the election, it will be because it was rigged.

Another part of the problem is the Black Lives Matter movement. Although the intensions of many people are noble, the movement has been hijacked by those with a darker intent. Ariel Atkins, one of the founders of BLM Chicago made the following statement: “I don’t care if someone decides to loot a Gucci or Macy’s or a Nike store, because that makes sure that person eats.

That makes sure that person has clothes. That is reparations.

Anything they wanted to take, they can take because these businesses have insurance.” This is no way to advance the cause, and I cannot imagine that any of the people who marched in solidarity with those who have been discriminated against share her thoughts. These comments are counterproductive to the BLM goals. The elders in the black community understand what many of these thugs do not—that real change requires coming together and speaking with one voice. Progress does not come from wanton violence and destruction. We need to work together to build a better social support system for our city so that life becomes healthier, safer, and more sustainable. That should be the goal for us all.

In the midst of hate, I found there was, within me, an invincible love. In the midst of tears, I found there was, within me, an invincible smile. In the midst of chaos, I found there was, within me, an invincible calm. I realized, through it all, that in the midst of winter, I found there was, within me, an invincible summer. And that makes me happy. For it says that no matter how hard the world pushes against me, within me, there’s something stronger – something better, pushing right back.

—Albert Camus 53

My Socially Distanced Birthday with Joan 54

The Mask Dispute

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October 14, 2020 The weather has continued to be beautiful and I have not missed a

to stay home. I have also signed up for is a tea lecture at the Fortnightly.

day getting outside to take advantage of it. On Sunday, I met a friend to

But instead of going to the lecture in person, I am to come to the door that

go for a walk. However, when we passed a restaurant, we decided to stop

morning and pick up my package of cookies and sandwiches that they

and have a drink at an outside table. So there we were at 11:00 on a

would have served, and then go home and watch the lecture on the

Sunday morning, drinking martinis. We thought, Hey, why not? Most

computer. Eventually this will probably get old, but right now these

therapeutic thing I have done in a long time.

events are new and different. If you look around, you can find things that

The IWA is plannig a virtual Halloween Party and the neighboorhood is decorating the homes along State Parkway—in spite of the fact that there will be no trick-or-treating this year. The National Museum of Mexican Art is having a gala on November 7—online.

George was delighted to buy tickets to it, knowing that we don’t have to dress up, go anywhere, or dance. But we will be entertained with live music, cooking demonstrations, cocktail-making lessons, comedy interludes, and a virtual dance lesson; plus, we get two special glasses and

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a hand-printed numbered print by a Mexican artist. All that and he gets

are actually better during this time of COVID.

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November 2, 2020

Preparing for the election

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November 7, 2021 I have been going out for a walk each day since the initial lockdown when we did not leave the apartment. What I witnessed today, in contrast to the days running up to the election, was remarkable. Last week, I walked down empty streets where only a handful of people were out, most of them workmen who were boarding up storefronts in anticipation of election-night unrest. But yesterday, after it became apparent that Biden had won, the streets of this heavily Democratic city filled with people—couples, dog-walkers, street musicians; the sidewalk cafes and outside bars were crowded to capacity; the park was overflowing with people walking, biking, playing volleyball, lounging on blankets in the grass. That night, you could hear car horns honking and people banging on pots and pans. A peaceful crowd gathered to dance and celebrate in the vicinity of Trump Tower by the Chicago River.

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November 7, 2020

After the election results

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SRH 62

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November 30, 2020 My mother peacefully slipped away at 10:29 this morning.

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Lincoln Park My Refuge

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Lincoln Park A Park for Chicago

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These are some of the projects and books that I worked on at home that have brought me comfort during the past difficult months. The sadness of not being with my mother as she struggled through pain and loneliness and the regret of lost times with family wore heavy on my heart. But the contentment of being at home with George and spending quiet days with him brought its own solace.

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When all of this started, I had never heard of Zoom, but it has eventually taken over our lives as the primary means of conducting meetings, gathering with friends, attending classes, and even remembering those who have died. During these months, we have taken classes on art and culture, been present at two memorial services, attended a high school reunion, hosted two parties and a couple of happy hours, and sat in on countless meetings. No matter how much we are suffering from “Zoom-fatigue,” it seems this online platform is here to stay.

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Steps towards Social Distancing

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Christmas 2020 at Home

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A Zoom Christmas 2020

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December 31, 2020 It seems that everyone is wishing each other Happy New Year with greater enthusiasm than usual as we celebrate the end of this terrible year. It is interesting that we always think that with the stroke of the clock, the slate will be clean and the new year will come, filled with promise. I wish that I felt so hopeful. I am fearful of what the next few weeks will bring. As the end of 2020 approaches, there are two things I pray for: a safe inauguration and a successful vaccine. I know that the coming year will not be easy.

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Post-Vaccine Priorities

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Some Phrases that Defined 2020 Black Lives Matter

New normal

Blursday

P.P.E.

Bubble

Remote learning

Circuit breaker

Sheeple

Contact tracing

Social distancing

Covidiots

Stay safe

Doomscrolling

Super-spreader

Essential workers

Unprecedented

Fake News

Virtual happy hour

Flatten the curve

Voter fraud

Frontline workers

We are all in this together

Hydroxychloroquine

Wildfires

Karen

You’re on mute

Mail-in ballot

Zoom

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Pandemic Afterthoughts Certain events have the power to transform our sense of who we are: the death of someone close to us, the birth of a child, illness, job loss.

These moments challenge our sense of self and cause us to question the purpose of our lives. Other events affect our collective mind: Pearl Harbor, the assassination of JFK, 9/11, and now, COVID-19. The pandemic has affected each of us individually. It has also been a shared lifealtering experience. Our world has been transformed, carrying us along with it as our public spaces have been suddenly emptied of the people they were built for, and we were all forced inside.

I had my first glimpse of this change when we drove into Chicago’s Loop a week or so into the lockdown. We found that this energetic city had become something of an eerie museum that we were observing with alien eyes. At home, quarantine forced us to reflect on the life we’d been leading and to question our connection to the world outside our walls.

Our relationship to time changed, too. During the past year, time felt simultaneously slow and fast; hours dragged while weeks flew by. In retrospect, it seems that 2020 was shorter than a normal year as our sense of time was distorted.

Each afternoon as I talked to my mother, up until her death in November, I gazed out of our front window to the street below. I witnessed the seasons changing and watched the people passing by: the endless dog walkers, police ambling by on horseback, occasional small groups of protesters, little kids herded along by their pre-school teachers, booming motorcycles and silent bikes, old couples wearing masks with barefaced joggers puffing past them. In the evenings, when George and I met in the living room, I felt a comfort in sensing the routine of my neighbors’ lives around us as lights turned on and off and TV screens flickered through their windows.

I have discovered that the forced isolation of the past year has provided me with another kind of window through which I have examined my own life, just as I watched others from my living room perch. I have embraced this involuntary time of slowing down. Knowing that George was nearby, cooking or working at his own desk, I felt comforted by the quiet of our daily routine.

Sometimes, I have had to force myself to stay in contact with other people. I soon realized that the longer I was confined to home, the more I felt content in my solitude. The pandemic has forced me to consider the nature and the strength of my friendships. While I have not seen many people during this time, I have formed deep bonds with some whom I did not know very well at the outset. By checking in with each other regularly, we have become close friends and have had time for real conversations rather than the exhausting social chatter that we all participated in before all this happened. Slowing down has allowed me to develop deeper—although perhaps fewer—friendships.

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I am surprised that I haven’t had the concentration to do much substantive reading. I have, however, enjoyed undertaking various projects.

Creativity has been a vital part of my life these past months. I have written a book of family stories; edited two journals that I kept years ago; written a chapter for an upcoming book to be published by Cambridge University; exchanged long and thoughtful letters with Dagmar; made four photographic catalogs of favorite collections; completed an expanded edition of my Hearts book; created a video about the lockdown in Chicago; written poems about our COVID life; knitted a blanket for William Tucker Hanes and a matching scarf for his grandmother; and made seven short submissions to the New York Times, six of which were published.

I have also taken two semester-long classes in Russian Literature from the Newberry, and have attended numerous lectures and meetings, two memorial services, two galas, and given a party, all on Zoom. I have managed to exercise every day, either on the recumbent bike (which we moved to the front window for the time being) or by walking a loop through Lincoln Park.

Feeling a quiet fulfillment at home, I have discovered that I am no longer as interested in working on endless committees and am wary of becoming ensnared in busy work. I want to spend time with people I care about and whom I enjoy being with, and participate in activities that I feel are meaningful. I have served on my share of boards and committees in the past, and am ready to concentrate on relationships and activities that are important to me now.

I have lamented the inability to be with my family. I worried about Mike and Chris more than usual since I was not able to temper my maternal concerns by visiting them. And I grieve the growth and development of my grandchildren that I’ve missed. But knitting the blanket for baby Tucker was something of a restorative substitute, as I imagined its warmth and softness cradling him as I worked on it each evening.

In spite of our not being able to see each other, my mother and I spoke every day, first at happy hour by FaceTime and then, as she became weaker, on 2:00 calls from my bike in the front window. When the time of her death drew close, we decided that I would not risk going to be with her, for we knew that we had nothing left unsaid and were secure in our decision. We agreed that she needed the boys to be there, and they were.

The pandemic has been transformative, but it will take time to understand its ultimate effect on us as individuals and on the world as we knew it. Although it has been a painful and challenging time for so many, I am grateful for the opportunity to slow down and appreciate the gifts of simple living.

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A photojournal made during the year of the COVID-19 pandemic. Journal entries and photographs by Susan R. Hanes, ©2020-2021

New York Times