Cristina Fridenstine – Corona Virus 2020

By Cristina Fridenstine, 4/11/2020

A quasi self-quarantine – because let’s face it, the quarantine isn’t perfect nor is it fully enforced – has caused me to stop attending Spanish classes and practicing tai chi chih with a group at Senior Amigos. For three days a week before the pandemic, I had enjoyed a comfortable routine that gave my retirement some sort of structure. For three days a week, I mingled with seniors like me, folks from all walks of life, folks I otherwise would never have met given my mostly reclusive existence. Outside of those brief sojourns to sociability, home was my comfort zone. Home was where I spent most days doing what I liked to do while sharing space with my husband Ed. Home was where we kicked off our shoes after exciting albeit exhausting trips abroad or across state lines. Home meant being gleefully welcomed by our puppies each time we opened the garage door. For me, self-quarantine left hardly a bleep on the radar of life generally spent enjoying our home.

But still, there are notable differences. I can’t, on a whim, just call up a friend for a tete a tete at the Asian Buffet. The temptation to drop in at Caliches for a decadent gizmo is now subject to second thoughts: do I really want to wait in line at the drive through? Ed and I don’t eat out as our former custom, once or twice or even more times a week depending on what we’re craving; instead, we make use of what’s in the fridge or the pantry until it’s time for a run to Sprouts. We can’t just jump into the car to go hiking or sightseeing because the parks are closed. Even our volunteering came to a standstill in compliance with the governor-issued guidelines. In lieu of spontaneity, I turn to Facebook, Messenger and my iPhone more often to take those virtual steps beyond our front door. 

to our credit, we have found other ways to fill our days. Ed, who has always enjoyed poking around in our backyard, just happened to have a new landscaping plan that he had commissioned from a master gardener whom he met at the Farmer’s Market, just before the pandemic became an issue. Nowadays he spends most days outdoors, wrestling with stubborn tree roots, raking the soil, digging up old plants and planting new ones, contentedly laboring as he coaxes our yard into a xeriscape. I, on the other hand, convinced that masks would be helpful during the pandemic but knowing that they are not readily available, decided to find out if I could make my own. Several YouTube videos later, I determined that I was ready to tackle the task. I did not let not owning a sewing machine stop me. I still remembered how to sew by hand, a skill learned from grade school several decades past. I dug out an unused table cloth and other fabric scraps, needles that until then had only been used rarely to mend split seams, a small iron, and then I got going. I had so much fun making masks for Ed and me that I kept making more. In doing so, I stumbled into a new hobby. Before I knew it I had several finished masks. What to do with them? I called a few friends whom I knew to be at high risk either due to age or a preexisting condition and offered to give them masks. They gladly accepted. I continued to sew. I continued to give them away. Occasionally I gained useful things in barter from a few who did not feel comfortable taking my work for nothing. I kept track of each mask much like collecting trophies. I gave away or traded a total of thirty-two masks, all hand sewn. Not bad for about two or three weeks’ worth of work. I sent masks to New York, Minnesota, Nevada, Arizona and Washington. For those, I paid out of pocket for priority mail shipping. Sewing masks has been very satisfying, as I feel as if I’m contributing albeit in a small way. It has also been very relaxing, due to the repetitive motion of the needle darting through fabric. I have tried to make my masks cheerful and colorful. “Don’t just wear a mask, make a fashion statement!” I’d joked. Even before then, I’d promoted the use of masks on Facebook as a precaution despite the CDC’s pronouncement that masks were no protection against the virus. I felt vindicated when eventually the CDC and the experts changed their tune.

But more than acquiring a new hobby, the global move to minimize human activity to only the most essential brought me a renewed appreciation of Mother Nature’s power. This pandemic is not as dramatic as Noah’s flood, or a giant tsunami like the one that killed thousands in Indonesia, or a volcano that buried a whole town in ash and lava. This time Mother Nature wielded a virus so tiny as to be invisible to the naked eye, yet has claimed the lives of millions and put every human commerce to a grinding halt and virtually every country in lockdown. It has stumped experts and is challenging scientists. It has driven us to retreat to our homes, to erect barriers between us and others under threat of contamination. Simultaneously, it has caused us to slow down our frantic lifestyles. From one perspective, it is giving us space for self-reflection perhaps to rethink our priorities. Parents not only have an opportunity to spend more time with their children; now they must assume a role as teachers that should have been primarily theirs in the first place. It is giving us a chance to remember that true worship does not have to take place in a building filled with religious icons, but in our hearts regardless of where we are. It reminds us of our need for interaction with each other, something we might have taken for granted. The overriding question is not whether self-isolating is helpful or even necessary. The question is whether we will be resourceful enough to make it work for us in positive, growth-provoking ways. Will we be perceptive enough to view this time as an opportunity rather than an obstacle? When we emerge from this, will we be more cognizant of what really matters for a meaningful life, or is it just going to be business as usual? We have the capability to bounce back, perhaps even make improvements on our lifestyles, but will we do it?

I do miss my friends in Spanish class, just as I crave the group dynamic that powered my weekly tai chi chih practice. But in all honesty, I don’t lament lost appointments, deadlines, or schedules. I like these open ended days. I treasure having time for deep contemplation, to have room to explore new avenues for creative expression. Shelter in home for some might feel like imprisonment. For me, it feels like freedom.