As my 7-year-old finished up her second virtual play date of the day one afternoon last week, she turned to me and said, “Mom, FaceTiming my friends might become a thing after coronavirus is over, don’t you think?”
For her, social distancing is, so far, a novelty. She’s been granted new access to formerly forbidden technology, like texting and FaceTime, to connect with friends — first through my phone, and then through her own, an old one we repurposed to cut out the “middle-mom.” She has a Zoom video conference call scheduled for later today and a Zoom piano lesson coming up on Tuesday.
I wish she had Zoom for second grade. Her city public school is closed, like all the others — a reality that’s nowhere near as good as her fantasy. Her father and I are doing our best to keep her up to date on a mountain of worksheets, while also doing our journalism jobs from home. We all have a new appreciation for her teacher.
She and her dad are still taking a morning walk to school and back, and sometimes elsewhere, to stay on track, while giving others wide berths. And she and I take walks in the afternoons. They’ve been, in a word, lovely — long and lazy and full of commentary. She collects leaves and acorns, points out new blooms and old bird’s nests, and generally fills the air with carefully considered, chirpy analysis. “That dog looks like a good size to own.” “This tree swing is so tempting.” “Those flowers are beautiful.”
There have been disappointments: A promised sleepover is not going to happen; two friends have canceled birthday parties; and a planned spring break trip — our first going abroad as a family — is off, (though some of the bills for it are frustratingly still on: I’m looking at you, United Airlines).
But our life is still recognizable. The tooth fairy came, the mail came, the Hello Fresh dinner box came. Ironically, the online groceries did not — after more than a year of regular orders over the internet. The delivery demand is too high now, which means I’ll have to venture out at some point in the future.
After one week, though, hunkering down has been OK for us — more inconvenience than hardship, and I’m grateful. I say so, out loud, daily. I know it’s very different for many others.
I wonder what I would have done 25 years ago if this occurred, back when I was a waitress in upstate New York, barely able to scrape by rent money when working regularly. I have a dear friend from that time who was laid off in January from the same restaurant where we met, and quickly hired as a manager by another, a brand-new place. It opened its doors for the first time the morning of March 16, only to close them at 8 p.m. because of coronavirus. They’re soldiering on with delivery, like so many establishments in our area, but for how long?
In Maryland last week, there was a five-fold jump in unemployment claims, as restaurants, bars, casinos and other businesses entered a state of suspension. MGM National Harbor in Oxon Hill gave notice, through the Work Adjustment and Retraining Notification Act, that it plans to lay off 85. Woodberry Kitchen in Baltimore City: 76; the Hotel at UMCP in College Park: 150; Silver Spring Gymnastics: 88. In an email pleading with members to maintain their memberships, the Y in Central Maryland said it had furloughed 2,000.
The coronavirus ripple effects and repercussions will be felt wide, and the toll measured by more than its casualties. In the few short weeks since its discovery in Maryland, it’s taken away jobs and opportunities and once-in-a-lifetime experiences — and largely replaced them with fear and uncertainty. And who knows what will happen if (when?) coronavirus eventually comes for us and our families? Will it be gentle, barely felt? Or devastating, robbing us of loved ones or our own lives? Maybe something in between.
In the meantime, we’re all doing the best we can with whatever we’ve got.
In our house, we’re trying to remember to look for joy in small things, check on our neighbors and practice patience in close quarters, as we wait to see what else — besides FaceTime — might be a “thing” when this is through.
Whenever that may be.
Tricia Bishop is The Sun’s director of opinion content; tbishop@baltsun.com.
Life amid coronavirus: Tell us your story
The appearance of coronavirus in Maryland has changed our lives in countless ways. Schools and businesses have shut down, hundreds have been laid off, and more and more of us are getting sick each day. We’ve all felt the effects. For some, the changes have been relatively easy to weather; for others, a nightmare. As the days pass and bring new challenges, we adapt and cope, trying to find connection where we can and take time to uncover the beauty and wisdom in this mess.
We want to hear your stories, what you’ve learned about yourself and others, as well as how you’re passing the time, making ends meet, finding joy, helping neighbors, making connections, protecting your health, acquiring goods, handling loneliness, dealing with frustration, and entertaining — and educating — your children.
We’re looking for snapshots of daily life in this unprecedented time across Maryland in 450 words or less. To submit yours, send an email to talkback@baltimoresun.com with the subject line “CORONAVIRUS STORY;” please include your name, phone number and street address for verification purposes. We’ll edit and compile our favorites for later publication in The Sun.
For most of us, this is a time unlike any other. Let’s chronicle it together.
The Baltimore Sun editorial board — made up of Opinion Editor Tricia Bishop, Deputy Editor Andrea K. McDaniels and writer Peter Jensen — offers opinions and analysis on news and issues relevant to readers. It is separate from the newsroom.