Social distancing

Applying Buffy’s “The Wish” Episode to the Pandemic

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I just returned from Publix. My grocery trips used to be pleasantly mundane stops. At least when alone, my mind would happily wander as I meandered, occasionally chit-chatting with the helpful employees. But now the world has changed. I am so grateful for Publix and all grocery store workers who keep food in our community and on our plates and are smiling, still greeting, and still helping. This shift I’m feeling is not on them. It’s the entry point into our new “Contagion World,” a universe filled with blue tape arrows, yellow social-distancing boxes, and hidden faces.

As a super TV fan, our new reality reminds me of the “alternate universe” storylines of many fictional shows. Piggybacking off of It’s a Wonderful Life, these episodes demonstrate a butterfly effect, in which one detail of a character’s world dramatically alters reality. The result is always the same, as the hero finds a way to return life to “normal,” as no one else recalls that the parallel reality existed.

In “The Wish” (3.9, Buffy the Vampire Slayer), Cordelia Chase wishes that Buffy (the vampire slayer) had never come to Sunnydale. The town is instantly transformed into a dark version of itself. Most of the students have disappeared from high school, as they were either eaten or turned into vampires after the Hellmouth was opened. The remaining ones face a bleak existence, with daily memorials and restrictions on clothing and venturing out at night.

After showing us all of the ways that hero Buffy changed Sunnydale for the better, the wish-granting amulet is destroyed, undoing the spell.

While we cannot smash the amulet or block the Hellmouth, this episode’s messages do hold new meaning in our pandemic state, offering a sci-fi view on peaking versus a flattened curve. In the regular Buffy reality, the Scooby gang prevents the evils of Sunnydale from rising by regularly combating bouts of malevolent entities before they become unstoppable. Buffy and her friends can thwart the attempts of a steady trickle. However, in the alternate Buffy-free universe, the Hellmouth opens, pouring vampires into Sunnydale on one tragic night. Much like an epidemic peak without adequate resources, the town becomes too far gone that even Buffy cannot reverse its course (when she finally arrives).

If you think this comparison is a stretch, consider it a lesson in available resources/personnel in handling sick people. As we’ve already seen, peaking areas have produced more cases than there is equipment or (amazing) health professionals). On the upside, social distancing measures are flattening the curve, curbing spikes in cases so that the ill can receive treatment.

I like the Buffy parallel though. In thinking of “The Wish” during my Publix bewilderment, I take comfort in its resolution. I can trust that the actions that make me feel distressed and well, distant, are also those that will help jump us back to our reality.

What the Archives Didn’t Teach Me About Life in a Pandemic

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In researching my book, I spent months studying primary sources: newspaper articles, pamphlets, public health records, personal correspondence, diary entries and other materials. I never expected that I would see first-hand what a global contagious threat would look like in my life time. I had an idea of the progression of quarantine and the pattern of media coverage. At the same time, no book or microfilm prepared me for a number of aspects in this experience.

  • The Waiting Game: Nothing that I’ve read addressed what it is like to feel fine, have your family feel fine, but know that the danger is coming. . .for months and is not a matter of if, but when. I’m sure the people in the army camps of 1918 that got hit with the March/April wave of influenza felt similarly–just no one wrote about it.
  • Balancing Crisis Mode with Everyday Life: In the yellow fever epidemic of 1793, townsperson Elizabeth Drinker made daily notes in her diary that combined mundane activities like taking a walk with notes about the latest death toll and friends who had passed. I never imagined how strange it would be to do the basic things we have to do, like buy dog food, within the context of the COVID-19 cloud. Everything is the same, yet it’s not the same.
  • Some people are fools. Newspapers of the past occasionally mentioned individuals that broke quarantine and were then arrested. Since they didn’t have social media in 1925, for example, there weren’t Instagram photos capturing crowds flaunting their poor choices and lack of consideration for others.
  • Parenting in a pandemic: This is a big one that NO ONE talked about in the past. Children were part of past epidemics, of course, and were mentioned when they became ill and died, but the stories of active parenting during such a time were not documented and a preserved. As parents, it’s a tricky time. Not only are we juggling childcare and work, but we are also trying to balance crisis and despair with making sure our kids are fed, engaged, and have pretty good days. We have the added challenge of explaining and demonstrating this new reality without terrifying them and inciting panic. At the end of the day, our kids deserve to think that the world is good, they are safe, and this will pass.
  • How much I would miss the world during social distancing. I am certain that the groups of students quarantined at the University of Kansas and other schools felt lonely, bored, and isolated. However, we don’t have their personal testimonies about the experience. We are privileged to be safe here as a family. Yet, I will fully admit that I mourn our normal reality.
    Being extra-extroverted, I knew that I would have these feelings. But it’s not just my friends that I miss. I love being part of a community–like a normal one, in which you see the same faces at stores, parks, karate, and on campus. I miss teaching to human students sitting in front of me, even if they fall asleep sometimes. I want maskless faces to slightly breech the six-foot distancing just to chat for fun, comment on the weather, or to just return a “hello.” Someday we’ll get back to a new version of that world.

What does this all mean, aside from my own lamenting? We need to be writing our stories and recording the diverse experiences of others so that future generations can better understand what living at this time was like.

Nothing is normal. We’re in a pandemic. Shifting Expectations in the Midst of Crisis

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In 1751, George Washington’s diary entries stopped for 24 days because he was ill with smallpox. Forty-two years later, the yellow fever epidemic in Philadelphia forced President Washington to relocate to Mount Vernon. Disruption due to disease was frequent and expected.

This pattern continued with other epidemic moments as well. When influenza hit in 1918, Kansas, like many states, canceled all group meetings and conferences, closed businesses and schools, and prohibited public loitering. The University of Kansas canceled all classes and mandated quarantine. Even though students were stuck on campus, they were not expected to continue their studies. Healthy male students practiced drills and smuggled cigarettes into the makeshift hospital for their ailing friends. Female students cared for the sick, but were also encouraged to go on hikes and roast hot dogs.

In the midst of an epidemic, historical precedent suggests that life dramatically shifts to revolve around the outbreak itself. We are in that moment. For months, we’ve seen it coming. Videos and images from other countries have been showing us what will happen, how bad it will become.

I’m not advocating that we completely shut down working from home, online learning, or virtual activities. However, we do need assume that everything we do, task we assign, and decision we make is shaped by the current and future reality of this global pandemic. Our expectations in our normal, pre-social distancing world do not directly carry over.

Even if we are fortunate to not be sick, the current situation dramatically influences all of our routines. A month ago, this was my typical Friday morning: Wake up, care for dogs, make breakfast, wake up kids, get kids and husband off to school, exercise dogs, do some writing or other work, drive to campus, hold office hours, teach, stop at the grocery store, eat lunch. Now my Friday morning consists of juggling parenting, attempted home-schooling, attempted online teaching, and attempted writing. Added to the mix are my worries and concerns unique to this time: Will the kids get to see their teachers or friends? Am I doing enough to help them through this? And then, the questions plaguing all of us: Will the stores have milk? What about people who are less fortunate than we are? How will local businesses survive? What will happen to the economy? Does it make sense to plan anything in the next 6-8 months?

At the same time, our face-to-face outlets for dealing with stress and working through situations have been cut-off. Without lunches with friends, gym workouts, or (gasp) in-person meetings, it’s hard to emotionally process it all. I’m glad that we can have online classes, connect over social media, and take virtual karate. But let’s not pretend it is the equivalent of the real experiences that we all crave right now.

My point is that we need to adopt a communal understanding about this time. Our standards and goals, even for daily productivity, should not be the same because our lives are not the same. What we do now will inevitably affect the future, but it doesn’t mean we are setting the bar (or lowering the bar) for next year and beyond. In other words, we need to asterisk * the things we think, decide, do, and communicate with the pandemic grain of salt.

This * is already happening for many people. If you are sick or care for someone who is, or if you work in healthcare, you are already there, where the details of a pandemic are all that concern you. A month into the yellow fever epidemic, every article in the Federal Gazette mentioned disease–even those that talked about a local fire. Every poem and parable printed focused on the epidemic. Ads only addressed “remedies” and other related goods and services. Even if we are lucky enough not to be in this place and can play with the kids, teach our online classes, and do “regular things,” we need to remember that not everyone shares our fortune.

This is a strange time full of uncertainties. Enjoy the moments that feel a bit normal, especially if they bring hope and optimism. But let’s also give ourselves permission to take a breath and just try for average, not exceptional, since every accomplishment is extraordinary right now. If Washington could ease up multiple times because of disease, then so can we.