“You can’t go back home to your family, back home to your childhood…back home to places in the country, back home to the old forms and systems of things which once seemed everlasting but which are changing all the time…” — Thomas Wolfe
On the Friday before the Memorial Day Holiday weekend, I reminisced about holidays past. Years ago, a group of friends nicknamed, ‘The Orphans,’ would plan an annual camping trip to Peninsula State Park in Fish Creek in Door County, Wisconsin. We dubbed these one of the ‘The Orphan Holidays.’ From a vignette from my memoir in the works, Perfectly Flawed.
“The Orphan Holidays always featured food, an open door to those who had no other place to go, a safe space to practice recovery, and a gathering place for the families we created. The hallmark of the summer, however, was our annual Memorial Day Weekend camping trip. For many of us, Memorial Day is the unofficial beginning of summer, the season opener for bratwurst, camping, and communing with nature. Here in Wisconsin that also means sharing time outdoors with mosquitoes, black flies, and if you’re camping in the wild — pesky raccoons.”
This is simply one of countless activities not to be recreated or enjoyed during the Safer-at-Home recommendations in our state. Some people will still camp, including families and couples who live together. Others may not follow the guidelines and congregate in larger groups; however, they risk their health and the health and safety of others.
These past almost 90 days, represent my COVID-19 Journey, sheltering-in-place at home at the hideout, venturing out only to grocery shop, visit the pharmacy, rare curbside and carry-out food trips, and drive-thru banking. February 27th was my last day at my previous job when I was laid-off due to a company reorganization and marked the beginning of my social distancing. I began a new job on May 1st working limited hours in a LGBTQ+ community center closed to the public. Since I live alone, it became my only in-person contact in addition to a couple of interactions when I practiced social distancing with friends and family.
A sign outside Madison’s Monona Terrace Convention Center
I’ve been chronicling my COVID-19 experience in eight installments of Dispatches from the Hideout, an addendum to a series I began writing three years earlier for my blog Mixed Metaphors, Oh My! (Note: As of October 2022, there are a total of 21 installments. See links to the entire series at the end of this essay).
Memoir-Writer & Blogger
When I began writing the original Dispatch from the Hideout series, this was my intention:
“These are troubling times, and as a person of a certain age, I don’t have a lot of time to simply experiment with my life and see how it turns out. I need to live consciously. The time for making a lot of mistakes or missteps, asking for forgiveness, or hoping no one noticed (including me) is long gone.”
“I need to live with intention, remain in the moment as much as possible, and still go with the flow of my days and my heart. I know this sounds trite, yet it rings true for me, I need to live each day as if it’s my last.”
To achieve my intention, I needed to periodically retreat to the hideout, though my hideout is a virtual one. I don’t have a cabin in the woods, or a bunker in the basement, I only have my home, a 645 square foot apartment. It’s where I wake up in the morning, retreat at the end of the work day, hideout on the weekends when I’m writing or feeling introverted, and end my days, often falling asleep on the couch watching TV. Yeah, I’m that girl. I live alone and most days I’m happy with that choice. During the coronavirus pandemic however, I was forced — not by choice — instead for my health and safety — to retreat for a prolonged period of time. Oh My!
Wall art reminder
UPDATE, 5/28/21: I continue to chronicle my lived experience and add to my coronavirus pandemic journal which I’m contributing to the Wisconsin Historical Society COVID-19 Journal Project.
The entire series is available to access at the end of this installment, plus additional related reading and a song by a local artist, Brianna Buhr, Holding You with My Gaze, which for me is an apt anthem to the physical distancing necessary to prevent the spread of the virus. The complete Dispatch from the Hideout series is available to access in chronological order beginning with the most recent to the oldest.
What was, what will be
What was
Many of the activities and behaviors we once took for granted, we’re now prohibited to engage in, though as we’ve discovered recently, as communities reopen, many people, due to denial or defiance, are not complying with the health and safety measures designed to protect us. Sadly, this is putting the larger community and vulnerable populations at risk.
First, before I whine about the activities, people, and beliefs I’ve been forced to let go, I’m grateful that I have a home, food security, the ability to pay my bills, a new job that feeds my spirit, and family and friends who love me. Today, I also have my health, though I’m a little challenged by age, family medical history, and past lifestyle choices. Officially, I’m a member of an at-risk group. I’m 70-years-old and have underlying conditions. For me, social distancing and wearing a mask when out in public are necessary precautions. Still, I’m luckier than most people, so I remain grateful.
As I’ve detailed in the series of dispatches in COVID-19 journal, I’m an ambivert by nature. I value a lot of solitary time in my home. I enjoy my own company. I use the solitude of my home as an incubator, to reflect on my life, to write, and to recharge. It’s base camp for daily living. On the flip side, I require regular contact with friends and family, individually, and occasionally in larger groups. I collaborate creatively with people who share common passions, and join like-minded groups who actively work for social change. I’m an elder in my bio family and participate in family holidays and celebrations.
The latter has especially been difficult while social distancing. My father turned 90-years-old this year and we had planned a celebration for 50 people, a reunion of sorts to mark the milestone, flying family home who live in Colorado, Las Vegas, and Kentucky. We had to let go of the celebration with great disappointment.
Since I live two hours away from my father who resides in my birthplace of Racine, Wisconsin, following my mother’s death four years ago, I plan a day once a month for a visit. To protect his health, I’ve let that go as well, without a sense of when it will be safe for an in-person visit. I now call him twice a week. We don’t always have a lot to say, but we’re comforted by the simple act of checking-in with each other.
Since I live alone, I’ve realized that I’m touch-deprived which I wrote about in Dispatch from the Hideout: Skin Hunger. For the past 12 years that I’ve lived alone, I made weekly plans with friends, making sure that I nurtured relationships with a circle of close friends. The intimacy, support, and play that we shared was critical to my well-being. Common activities were brunches and potlucks, movie matinees and film festivals, gallery openings and concerts, and nights out to the theater.
For the past few years, I was semi-retired, or as I like to say, I semi-worked, half-time. I enjoyed a schedule of three-day weekends off, and four abbreviated days of work, when I could enjoy mundane conversations around the proverbial water cooler with coworkers about the news or culture of the day, and carefully-crafted political discussions. It provided a regular opportunity for social connection.
We are a consumer society. Rather than be the hunters and gatherers of our ancient ancestors, we shop to meet our needs for food and clothing, eat out at restaurants, watch films, attend sporting events, enjoy outdoor activities and exercise, meet friends for a cocktail, spend a night out to dance or recreate, pamper ourselves with haircuts and spa dates, workout at the gym, and take vacations. All activities we’ve let go these past, almost three months.
We’ve all been asked to let go of a lot. For most of us, letting go is not an easy thing. The most tragic sacrifice however, are the people we’ve had to let go, victims of the coronavirus. [Deep healing breath].
What will be
During this pandemic we’ve identified new superheroes, healthcare and essential workers who risk their lives to feed us, keep us healthy, provide transportation so we can work and travel safely, plus police, EMS, and firefighters who protect and serve.
Banksy Superheroes
Unfortunately, the political partisan divide has also grown. Mask-wearers vs. bare-faced, social distancers vs. congregators, the have-nots vs. the have-it-alls, the powerful vs. the disenfranchised, POTUS vs. the governors, the economists vs. the scientists and medical community, gun-toting protesters vs. the protectors, and the list goes on. Nothing is black and white, so there are individuals and groups that fall in-between, like the privileged person who complains that they can’t go to the nail salon or neighborhood tavern, visit the barber, or go to the gym.
Our lives now are temporarily lived prophylactically. We wear masks, socially distance, refrain from physical touch with those with whom we don’t live, we don’t congregate recreationally or to worship, fly on planes or cross borders unless essential, fill stadiums, movie theaters, concert halls, shopping malls and classrooms. This may be a temporary adjustment, unless it becomes necessary to return to this life of isolation should the coronavirus resurge.
The news is hosted virtually, we hold Zoom meetings and share family gatherings and celebrations via laptops, tablets, and Smartphones, shop online including groceries, have TeleMedicine appointments instead of clinic visits, cut our own hair, bake our own bread, and educate our children. The graduating class of 2020 will not enjoy traditional commencement ceremonies, instead we‘re asked to think outside of the box, the box being large physical venues.
The danger now, in addition to the medical pandemic caused by the virus, is the economic pandemic affecting employment, financial security, and prosperity, there are ‘deaths of despair,’ people suffering from the isolation, loss of income and their homes, an increase in alcohol and drug abuse, PTSD as a result of coronavirus and the losses we’ve experienced, and the list goes on.
The road ahead
There is good news. It’s not all doom and gloom. Change, though difficult, is also an opportunity. In this pivotal moment we can take a look and assess how we’ve been living our lives. We can ask ourselves, what’s important, what was in the past that didn’t work and what will be the road ahead. We are reminded too, that by nature, though we are creatures of habit, we are also resilient.
We can take a look and reimagine what kind of society we want to live in. What kinds of rights and opportunities do we want to ensure for all people? Who do we want to govern us? We can ask ourselves, what’s important in our daily lives shared with loved ones, family members, coworkers, and neighbors.
Let’s use this time as society reopens to take inventory and ask ourselves the important questions about our responsibilities to ourselves, our families, the larger community, and the earth, which has just begun to heal.
Personally, I return to my original intention when I began chronicling my Dispatches from the Hideout before and during the coronavirus pandemic:
“I need to live with intention, remain in the moment as much as possible, and still go with the flow of my days and my heart. I know this sounds trite, yet it rings true for me, I need to live each day as if it’s my last.”
Dispatch from the Hideout Series (Most Recent to Oldest)
Dispatch from the Hideout: Hip-a-Dee-Doo-Dah!
Dispatch from the Hideout: Love in a Pandemic 2.0
Dispatch from the Hideout: Omicron Edition
Dispatch from the Hideout: Pod Squad 2.0
Dispatch from the Hideout: Two Steps Back
Dispatch from the Hideout: My Post-Pandemic Life
Dispatch from the Hideout Exit Strategy
Dispatch from the Hideout: A Shot in the Arm
Dispatch from the Hideout: Love in a Pandemic
Dispatch from the Hideout: The End Is Here!
Dispatch from the Hideout: Riding the Coronacoaster
Dispatch from the Hideout: Staycation Edition
Dispatch from the Hideout: Letter to Loved Ones
Dispatch from the Hideout: Quarantine Bubble Edition
Dispatch from the Hideout: Skin Hunger
Dispatch from the Hideout: Back to Life
Dispatch from the Hideout: Stirred Crazy
Dispatch from the Hideout: Home Alone Easter Holiday
Dispatch from the Hideout: Home Alone Edition
Dispatch from the Hideout: Pandemic Edition
Dispatch from the Hideout: Social Distancing
Additional Reading from Mixed Metaphors
Dispatch from the Hideout: Premature Hibernation
Another Dispatch from the Hideout
Related Reading & Listening
Going to the Movies. Getting a Haircut. Hugging Your Parents.
America’s ‘new normal’ will be anything but ordinary
What Cities Could Look Like in a Post-Coronavirus World
This is even better than usual! I LOVE reading Mixed Metaphors. Stay well, dear friend! Lewis.