‘I KEEP THINKING IT’S NOT REAL’

The JetBlue flight that left Bradley for Orlando was nearly full, and though no one took a poll, it’s safe to assume everyone was a little nervous. At least two people wore masks (while the others commented quietly that wearing masks seemed unfriendly, like a comment on the cleanliness of their fellow travelers). Everyone cleaned their seats with disinfectant wipes they’d brought aboard. And then a few wiped the seats again.

It was mid-March. The virus had gone from being a sad story happening far away to something native, and personal. Connecticut colleges and universities announced that after spring break, classes would resume online for a while. Eventually, that arrangement would be extended through the end of the semester and into the summer, though we didn’t know that then.

Christine Syracuse, an illustration student at Hartford Art School at University of Hartford, was on that plane. Florida called.

Please understand she gave the trip some thought. A couple of days before her flight, she noticed the conversation about the virus had begun to shift. When her school announced that campus would close for a while, she was attending her illustration classes and packing for spring break. She rushed to her studio to grab a few things, and there on the steps of the building, a senior sat crying.

Rather quickly — humor being an excellent coping mechanism — friends started sending her memes. One suggested — laughingly — that graduation would be held over Skype. Another showed graduates dressed in hazmat suits. Ha, ha. As if, right?

In Florida, Syracuse was meeting friends she hadn’t seen all year. They decided that for safety’s sake, they’d hit the beach and avoid shopping and bars and crowds as much as possible.

But even on the beach, they heard rumblings. One friend kept checking her emails to see if her theater department would reopen. The friend’s housing was tied to her job with the department, and that is the house where the friends were staying.

Syracuse was most concerned about her senior show, scheduled for April. The senior show is the culmination of all the hard work and late nights for seniors, who spend the reception surrounded by people who love them, with catered food.

People on Florida’s beaches acted as if they were immune to the coronavirus (Gov Ron DeSantis didn’t issue a stay-at-home order until April 3) after a few days. Syracuse decided to come home early. To avoid going through New York City, she went to stay with her boyfriend in New York’s Hudson Valley. She wanted to be cautious, and not hysterical. If she started to feel sorry for herself — the loss of a senior show, no May graduation ceremony — she reminded herself that at least she had time with her boyfriend, which was nice. They took walks. She worked on her art. She saw a fox. She pined for her studio space, and became proficient at Zoom.

In fact, Easter was spent Zooming with her family on Long Island. Her boyfriend’s brother turned 13, and she participated in something the pandemic has given us, a drive-by birthday parade with balloons.

Back at school, her belongings were packed for her as University of Hartford offered housing to first responders and other essential workers. And then the email came. All exhibitions were off, but the Hartford Art School Senior Thesis website would go live on May 15, which would have been Syracuse’s graduation day. Mark G. Snyder, associate dean of student academic services, acknowledged that the website wouldn’t make up for the actual exhibition, but maybe more people would see the students’ work this way.

Syracuse decided to keep looking on the bright side. Later, she’d figure out what to tell the friends and family members she’d invited.

Through all this, there continued to be a sense of other-worldly suspension, that regular life was going on somewhere on some cosmic calendar page we can’t see from here, in a place where there’s no virus and no pandemic, where those notifications our phones keep sending us are attached to actual events — haircuts, dinners, appointments that have in reality been put off until fall.

“It’s very strange, indeed,” said Syracuse. “I keep thinking it’s not real.”

She’s coming to Connecticut this weekend to pick up her stuff, and to pack her senior art studio space. In-person graduation has been scheduled for far-off December, at Hartford’s XL Center. At some point, the suspension will lift. She’ll get an apartment in Brooklyn or Queens. Or she’ll move to Boston. She visited Boston before the pandemic, and she sat sketching in a coffee shop and didn’t feel like a poser. She’ll travel, and live on the cheap because she’s young and flexible and this is the time to do that. She’ll start her life, and most likely will be wonderful.

Contributed photo Christine Syracuse