holding onto the extraordinary
Photograph by John Robben
Published in The Greenwich Sentinel on May 15, 2020
The images of people dying alone in hospital beds and their lifeless bodies being transported to makeshift morgues have us grappling with the meaning of this pandemic. We woke up to its severity after reading about the painful decisions being made in Italy. Who gets a respirator, when there aren’t enough to go around? It’s hard to fathom. And yet, it got our attention and we, in turn, did our best to alleviate the devastation, by sheltering at home, hand washing, and wearing masks. COVID-19 prompted our nation to close up shop and invest in medical research, diagnostic tests, and vaccines. As Americans, we paused, something we rarely do, reprioritized and considered how to best protect the vulnerable and the elderly, and pay homage to the medical professionals and the essential worker in harm’s way. This disease has brought heartache and suffering not exclusive to the infection but also felt in its unintended side effects: an increase in unemployment and hunger, and in the widening of the political divide. It’s bleak, but the American spirit is bright and has given us a renewed sense of life, and wouldn’t it be extraordinary if we could maintain some of that goodness long after the virus has subsided.
Musical artists came together to create “One World: Together at Home”. Celebrities and athletes collaborated in the All-In Challenge. And our leaders and former leaders are stepping up to give speeches for our high school and college seniors who will miss their graduations.
In our community, a masked man in the checkout line took the time to say to the cashier, “Thank you so much for being here.” Many have responded to the countless food drives and PPE distributions. Homemade signs hang in store windows, messages to the frontline - “You are my hero” - and coordinated church bells ring. Our town government organized an outreach to the elderly. There’s a return to an appreciation for the simple things: family dinners, game nights, and unhurried time listening to children at their bedside.
We are learning to connect and show love despite being physically divided. I have been a participant in a birthday parade, the chance to celebrate another from the safety of my car. And I have joined in a memorial service, in front of the house of a friend mourning the loss of her father: car by car, candles in hand, and the sound of a bagpiper playing Amazing Grace.
But what happens when we get through this time, and we will. What then? The shackles will come off, and we will be in a world more protected from disease, I am sure, but can we hold onto the spirit that COVID-19 has instilled in us?
Historically, there have been other crises that have warranted similar responses. After 9/11, we saw a world that had changed. New Yorkers were friendlier and proud. They greeted each other on the street. And that feeling was felt across the country. Twenty years later, we see the change in the increased security at airports, but we have not been able to sustain that renewed sense of life that was so prevalent in the months that followed 9/11. Every September, we celebrate the anniversary and then return to business as usual.
I hear many say, “imagine the extraordinary world we could become”, but I fear that the farther away from the crisis we get, the more collectively we will forget. What lengths are we willing to go to hold onto the good that we are witnessing during the pandemic? Consider the alcoholic trying to stay sober or the elite athlete preparing to become the best in sport. Sobriety is maintained one day at a time, and champions are made in the sweat of tireless training. In order for our world to be extraordinary, we must be ready to make a similar commitment, one that is deliberate and far exceeds a modest pledge to cleanliness.
As the mother of four, I am desperate for this extraordinary world, for my children and others, and I am willing to grasp at whatever I can to see that we do not return to a world that is anything less. To do so would be one of the great tragedies of this pandemic.
Do we close up shop on Sundays to honor priorities: family, community, service, and a God? Do we find time in our week to commit to these values that are giving us hope and resolve during this crisis? Are we willing to slow down in order to reach out to those in need, and care for the vulnerable and the elderly? Are we prepared to make the societal shift and sacrifice that are needed to bring about change?
Because if we really want an extraordinary world, we might need to make some extraordinary changes.
Last week, in the tri-state area, we all looked up at one sky to witness the incredible precision and expertise of the Blue Angels and the Thunderbirds. It was the launch of their cross-country tour, Operation America Strong, a salute to the heroes of COVID-19. The flyover elicited criticism.
“Not worth the money spent.” “Not what America needs now.”
But, for my family, it was the first planned excursion in six weeks. We came out to see a show and headed back inside proud to be an American and thankful for all of those caring for our nation. And on that sunny April day, we watched until the last of the residual white smoke that trailed the planes dissipated, hoping that our renewed sense of life, hard-earned, would not dissolve too, and we would remember it’s not business as usual.