Memories of our unprecedented times
I am by nature a hopeful man, who believes that what has served us well in the past will continue to do so in the days ahead
What, years from now, will we remember about these “unprecedented,” “surreal” days?
What, when the danger is finally passed, will stick with us about the period which began just last March, when the Atlantic provinces declared a state of emergency in a bid to contain COVID-19?
I do not mean the anxieties that are sure to linger, deep or close to the surface, and the existential dread that, for some, may never leave — for if you ask around you will learn that I am not a psychiatrist, and can shed no light on these matters.
I mean the images, the specific details with which we will regale the nurse’s aide at our senior’s residence.
It is a hypothetical question because the pandemic is seething all around us, and our first 222 days in the shadow of the plague may not remotely look like the days ahead.
When I spoke with Dr. Robert Strang recently, Nova Scotia’s chief medical officer of health would not even speculate on when the pandemic would cease to qualify as an emergency here.
Yet, I am by nature a hopeful man, who believes that what has served us well in the past will continue to do so in the days ahead.
Just last week the New York Times pointed to the four Atlantic Canadian provinces as one part of the world that has kept the virus in check, which we have managed to do by largely closing our borders, “a strategy that has also worked in several other countries, including Australia, Ghana, Taiwan and Vietnam, despite skepticism from some political liberals around the world,” as the Times wrote.
So, for the purposes of this column, let us say that we will see nothing stranger than the masked folks walking mostly silently through our streets, shuffling down the aisles of the grocery store, obediently lining up two metres apart outside the NSLC and the bank.
The oddness of restaurant tables separated by the same plexiglass that surrounded the cash registers at the corner stores, will stay with me, as will the downtown Halifax streets that mid-morning on a Monday seemed as quiet as pre-breakfast on a Sunday, and the classrooms.
Until the day I die I will remember all of that, in the manner that my parents never forgot the war years.
Just as I will remember the odd habits that gripped me during this period: the baking and gardening, the hoarding of toilet paper, hand-sanitizer and pasta, the jogging and virtual karate and yoga classes.
When my grandchildren ask me what 2020 was like I will tell them how I was beset by disturbing pandemic dreams, how a decent night’s sleep became just a memory, and how reading a book that required a little concentration became as challenging as trying to push through Ulysses.
I will tell them about the struggles of the owners of businesses where no one came anymore, and once-rollicking restaurants, now a fraction of their former selves.
I will explain how work changed forever during this period when the at-home office became de rigueur. Consequently, office towers everywhere were left mostly empty and silent, sweats and Ts became all the work wardrobe that a person needed, and salary earners everywhere were forced to learn the ins and outs of Zoom meetings, with sharply varying degrees of success.
Certain words, I believe, will forever be associated with these times: “quarantine,” “social distancing,” “flattening the curve,” “asymptomatic,” “pre-existing condition,” “the new normal,” “Northwood.”
A veil of sadness, it is certain, will forever hang over this period, even though we got off easy in a region where, for long periods of time, it has been possible to forget that we are in the midst of a global pandemic.
We, nonetheless, watched in horror as the death toll mounted elsewhere, where our friends and family lived, and as good people within our own bubble died, leaving behind their own loved ones.
Mourning their passing occurred virtually, or, as a line at the end of their obituary indicated, was postponed until some later point, or, under the circumstances, perhaps did not occur at all.
Things like that are so achingly sad that they can never be forgotten.
Yet, the pandemic may well be the big event of our lives and all momentous events have heroes. So, I will remember how, during the past seven months, we learned the value of our front-line health care workers, and the dedication and importance of our public servants.
Most of all, if things continue to go as they have gone in this region, I will tell whoever will listen about the numbers that I read on Monday. On that day, Quebec reported 9,337 active COVID-19 cases. Ontario’s total stood at 8,096, while Alberta had 5,172 cases.
The Atlantic bubble? A total of 51 active cases in all four provinces, where discipline, a willingness to work together, and a determination to keep our neighbours safe managed, at least for 222 days, to do just that.