Mark Dawson describes how the COVID-19 crisis has impacted his life
And I am crabby.
Since the middle of March 2020 I have been watching my beloved city collapse all around me. I have never endured anything like this before, an un-seized life, a new disappointment every day, loss piled up on to top of loss. Between March 15 and May 15 some 20 concerts, lectures, and museum events that I had planned to attend, cancelled. No church, no Chicago Cubs, no museums, no biking on the lakefront, no Sacred Harp singing, no jam sessions with my recorder playing friends. A virtual Old Town Art Fair for the first time in 70 years (bleh). A trip to my grandson’s first birthday party canceled by Delta Airlines, as they were unwilling to provide us with an airborne Uber ride to LaGuardia Airport. I have slogged through enough virtual meetings with friends and fellow musicians for me to decide that in September of 2020 I will sign an oath in my own blood never to use Zoom again.
What will our culture look like at the end of 2020? Besides the contagion itself, the economy has been laid waste. Our primary IRA featured a balance of $550K on February 12 and $410K by March 18. Economic recovery seems much less likely than disaster for small businesses, colleges and universities, cultural institutions, and charitable giving. Will Chicago be forced to declare bankruptcy? And what happens to a civilization where most of the members are told to abandon pretty much everything and sit safe at home for two months or longer, with little to do?
Well, we start cooking more, so we get healthier. We read and watch TV and maybe even start writing old-fashioned letters. Long walks and bike rides. Video games. Basements are cleaned out, bedrooms painted. And we are encouraged to think, as we have plenty of time for that. We reflect on what we want from life, what matters to us. Where will that introspection take us? How many college students will drop out, figuring they are no longer interested in borrowing absurd sums for a degree of doubtful value? That seems to be happening already. How many churches will see attendance decline, or even close their doors? How many clubs and volunteer organizations and community art and music schools will welcome newcomers this fall, and how many will see old friends disappear?
I want life to return to normal. Every time the governor extends the shelter-in-place order, I grow more angry. So I seek to be patient, to embrace contentment, and to in fact enjoy a time to slow down and share more hours with my wife. And those have been good times. But beyond my frustration, I ponder a shattered society, and what will survive from the wonderful city I knew before the pandemic started.