It was one year ago that life here took a stark turn.
Do you remember what went down in that surreal week last March? On a Thursday, Governor Steve Bullock declared a state of emergency. The next day, Montana reported its first four coronavirus cases. That Sunday evening, schools were given three days to come up with a plan for online instruction.
And things began to shut down. Little Guy Wrestling nixed the rest of its matches. The Montana City School’s Academic Olympic team learned it wouldn’t be traveling to Bozeman for a statewide competition. Jefferson High’s National Honor Society Senior Bingo Night was done. So was the Heritage Center’s annual tea and dessert social. (Also: Prom! OMG)
Pretty soon, the cancellations and closures were filling a full page of the paper.
Doug Dodge, Jefferson County’s director of emergency services, had spent years preparing for unknowable disasters. Now that one was upon us, he launched an Emergency Operations Center to respond to whatever might emerge. No cases had hit the county yet, but the trajectory was clear: “From everything we understand,” Dodge said then, “I think this is going to be with us for a while.”
In fact, it has turned out to be a very long slog. Since last March 24, when the county’s first COVID-19 case was reported, over 1,000 residents – close to 10% of the population – have tested positive. Nine of those have died. Hundreds have been laid off or furloughed in that time, and many others have lost pay, with lowest-income workers the most vulnerable. Parents have had to juggle their regular jobs with a new side gig: assistant teacher.
And we’ve all had to reckon with the loss of many of the things that make us human, and that make this a community. Less time with the family and friends we care about. Fewer activities and events that bring us together. Only sporadic coffees, or play dates, or chance encounters at the grocery store or Post Office. “I want the life of Boulder to come back,” said Deanna Brulla, a server at the Elkhorn Bistro. “It would really be nice.”
As the crisis deepened, we responded in three ways:
We coped: Life didn’t stop, of course. We quickly figured out work-arounds. We stocked up on toilet paper and wipes – possibly more than were really necessary. We delivered groceries to elderly neighbors who couldn’t get out. Libraries brought books and videos out to customers in their cars; “We’ll troubleshoot and adapt as we learn more,” said North County Library Director Carly Delsigne.
We became mask machines. Jill Honer was a “one-woman mask-maker,” sewing more than 100 in the pandemic’s first month for her son, a Butte police officer, other officers, family, friends, friends of friends, “and on and on.” Residents and restaurants brought meals to staff at the county public health department – which, as cases mounted, grew consumed with tracking, reporting, and contact tracing.
We argued: In the face of a virus with no known political ideology, we took sides. Wearing a mask, or not; going out to eat, or not; traveling at the holidays, or not, became totems of party affiliation. The Pew Research Center reported in June that just 37% of Democrats felt comfortable going to a hair salon or barber shop; twice as many Republicans felt the same.
We fell into the trap of either/or: Public health, or economic welfare; individual rights, or common good. Conspiracy theories regarding the pandemic’s origin took hold. Even our psyches became politicized: According to the research company Ipsos, Democrats were most likely to report feeling stressed (51%) and overwhelmed (27%) by the ongoing crisis; Republicans most often said they felt frustrated (48%) and angry (21%).
We reinvented: “We had to recreate everything, our whole system,” said Lauren Oelkers, who heads food service at the Montana City School, describing the non-trivial shift from cafeteria-style lunches in the gym to individual meals delivered to each classroom. (She was speaking to the Monitor’s editor, Diana McFarland, whose great series profiling the county’s essential workers, “On the Front Lines,” concludes this week.)
This may prove the most lasting, most beneficial outcome of the past year. The pandemic has forced us to examine the way we’ve always done things, to fix systems that needed fixing anyway, and to consider the possibility that there are, in fact, better ways forward.
Zoom video conferences are not, as the Jefferson City Volunteer Fire Department has learned, the best way to train firefighters to use a new engine — but they can be a convenient and efficient way to bring together far-flung residents for a regular committee meeting. Universal ballot-by-mail yielded the highest voter turnout in the county — 87% — since 1968.
The county schools’ transition to virtual instruction last spring was remarkable: In the space of 72 hours, teachers, staff, students, and parents worked out how to teach, and how to learn, without coming into a school building. It wasn’t easy, and it wasn’t always pretty — but it did raise the question of whether, in the longer run, education might happen differently. It turns out that some students actually learn better online, and more flexible schedules with hybrid instruction could advance school performance.
Rural communities around the nation are asking similar questions about how residents might have better access to health care, mental health counseling, and services for the elderly. Likewise, employers and their staffs are thinking differently now about how work gets done. Surveys have consistently shown that employees think their productivity has stayed the same or increased while working at home; that most enjoy working flexibly; and that managers are increasingly open to the idea.
The upshot is, some parts of our lives may work better after the pandemic than they did before.
Of course, we first have to get to “after.” The Ipsos poll reveals that, as coronavirus cases decline and the availability of vaccinations expands, we’re growing more optimistic on that front: 40% of Americans expect to return to something like their normal, pre-COVID life within six months, up from 26% in January.
We’re not there yet. It will be months, at least, before we’re clear. But when we arrive, it’ll be important to remember where we started, a year ago – and to contemplate all we’ve learned since.
