Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes

Five hundred twenty-five thousand moments so dear

Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes

How do you measure?  Measure a year?

In daylights?

In sunsets?

In midnights?

In cups of coffee?

In inches, in miles, in laughter, in strife

In five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes

How do you measure a year in the life?

— “Seasons of Life” by Jonathan Larson, from the Broadway musical RENT.

by Lynn Mandaville

My mind lately has been consumed by thoughts of this past year spent in isolation, from family, from commerce, from volunteering, from “normal.”

On one hand it feels like forever.  The habits of isolation have morphed into the ways in which I (and others to whom I’ve spoken) instinctively react to old movies and TV shows.  I find myself wincing and saying to myself “Why aren’t they wearing masks?  Why are they so close together?”

On the other hand, it feels like just a few weeks ago.  What do you mean I haven’t had a haircut in a year?  How is it possible that I’ve haven’t had a meal out in eleven months?

I knew early on that we would never be the same after this pandemic had either run its course or a vaccine was developed.  How far-reaching the changes would spread has gone far beyond my wildest estimations.

So this, my friends, is a reflection on one woman’s year in the life.

• Masks.  They aren’t my favorite thing, but I believe they have helped keep me, overall, healthier.  No COVID, no colds, no nothing in a year.  I’ll keep wearing a mask in public after my vaccination and into the future.

• Personal space.  I was never one to crowd people in lines, and I will continue to give ample distance once this is over.  It just feels better.

• “Have a nice day,” will be forever be replaced by “Stay safe,” or “Stay healthy.”  And I’ll mean it.

For the most part, I have developed a better understanding of the fact that not all maladies or disqualifications (such as in mask wearing) are readily evident.  There are lots of afflictions we simply cannot see in others, so I’m more ready to give them the benefit of the doubt.

• Education. I have always advocated for education, and we’ve always supported increased taxes and bond issues for the school systems where we lived.  What I didn’t fully understand, until I was helping to home school my grandsons, was how incredibly difficult it is to really teach.  And all I’m doing is getting through first and third grade English and math lessons each day.  I don’t have the added responsibilities of psychological counselling, or identifying problems kids have at home, or diverse behavioral idiosyncrasies.  How in God’s name do the good teachers do it?  It’s like herding cats!

• Government preparedness.   Will pandemic planning become a “thing” like managing toxic materials and bloodborne pathogens?  Will there have to be updated plans filed every couple of years to reflect the changes in our abilities to manage outbreaks of disease?  Will those changes exist beyond the federal level to state and local governments, to school districts?  I’ve watched my state governor fail pretty miserably in overall management of COVID-19.  Will Americans be smart enough to de-politicize catastrophic health issues and demand a standard of care that is nationally uniform?

• Voting.  Even before The Big Lie we were aware that Russia, and maybe other nations, were interested in manipulating our elections.  Maybe Congress will get interested in the real issues involved in American voting.  Voting rights, voter suppression, finding the means for people to vote safely and securely in situations like COVID-19.  Some states have already accomplished successful systems.  Perhaps such measures could be adopted nationwide and de-politicized.

• Essential workers.  Suddenly we have been thrust into a situation where the veil has been lifted as to what work we depend on (I mean really depend on), who does that work, and how we compensate them.  I hope we can continue to appreciate the folks who do the harder, hands-on work we forgot to notice in the Before Time.  I hope a national minimum wage will be adopted that can address the true poverty of far too many working Americans.

• Birthday cakes.  Oh, my God, how did we ever think that blowing out the candles with our own breath is okay?  Even without COVID-19, imagine the germs we were spreading unnecessarily.  Does Party City sell those little battery-powered fans that we could use to do the candle-blowing job for us?

These are some of the things I have pondered over the last few months.

But I’ve also measured my COVID year in more mundane ways.

• Eight inches of hair that should have been trimmed every couple of months, but still grows ‘til I feel safe enough to go to the salon.
• Foregone therapeutic massage I used to get for my chronic pain.
• Unhugged hugs from my second son, his wife, and their precious boys over the first six months of the pandemic.  The hugs I used to get from friends.
• Cancelled soccer seasons for my grandsons.
• Time not spent in conversation with neighbors.
• Missed church services where a community of God is grateful together.
• Missed volunteer hours at the library where I can make a small difference in the financial health of that institution.
• Volunteer hours no longer bolstering my mental health.

Surely there are more that don’t readily come to mind.

Certainly everyone reading this can relate to these measurements as they apply in their own lives.  Insert your own personal experiences.

I know what I will have learned and retained when I come out on the other side of this wretched pandemic.  I can only wonder what others will learn and retain from their time in this pandemic hell.

The musical RENT was written in 1996 and dealt with another terrible period of health-related tragedy in the US and the world, the AIDS epidemic.

Time, education, learned tolerance, and science worked together to bring an end to the death sentence AIDS once was.  Lots of good stuff came out of that shared, national experience.

Lots of good stuff has and will continue to come out of this experience as well.

How will we measure this year in our lives?

How about love?

Measure in love…

Seasons of loooooove…

Seasons of love…