The Coronavirus Diaries: All of Us Were Mistaken
A sculpture along the lakefront in the Ouchy neighborhood of Lausanne, Switzerland. April 15, 2020.
When all this started, I’d predicted we’d have mostly returned to normal by now. Others predicted it’d take a couple of weeks longer. All of us were mistaken.
This is the sixth entry in a diary I’ve posted weekly to document the happenings, thoughts, and impressions I’ve had during the coronavirus pandemic.
To begin from the beginning, click here. (To review all entries in the coronavirus diaries, you can do so via this link.)
Monday, April 13, 2020
Arnaud points out that we haven’t had to fall back on our box of generic penne pasta and our jar of generic pesto, which we bought in case of food shortages.
Monday calls with clients go well, though the stress level pervades. Internally, the FrogDog team has slowed to a limp. Everyone needs downtime, yet everyone feels that a few days off, given the stress levels, won’t provide real rest.
The New York Times publishes an article on why people should keep coronavirus diaries. This irks me, even though I’ve kept one. Perhaps because they seem late to the party. I’m on week six.
Closing in on sundown on my walk to Saint Sulpice, Switzerland. April 13, 2020.
The Swiss take a national holiday the Monday after Easter. Arnaud works a little, but mainly relaxes. Along my lakefront walk in the evening, people sit in handfuls around small fires.
Arnaud and I muse on what we’ll do when released from the stay-at-home restrictions. Sure, I’d like to visit my tea shop; the grocery store has sad options. And if the restrictions extended through the summer, I’d miss traveling. Yet we haven’t lacked for much in these past few weeks.
Tuesday, April 14, 2020
A colleague and I work on FrogDog’s final seminar in its crisis-response series. I’ve enjoyed giving them. These seminars make me feel like I’ve helped people during the crisis, even if only in a very minor way. I’ve benefited as well: Speaking with other people outside my intimate circle in real time has brought much needed connection during this business upheaval.
All this said, the team and I are tired of seminars right now—our own and everyone else’s. In the past week or so, it seems like every company everywhere has decided to throw together webinars. I’m glad FrogDog’s not further contributing to the overall webinar fatigue.
Additionally, the FrogDog team needs to refocus on how we can help ourselves. We need to find a way back into our own marketing and sales in a thoughtful and sensitive fashion yet with enough oomph to energize interest in our services. We need to survive this crisis, too.
A friend in San Francisco who works for one of the gold-chip tech companies texts. Earthquakes have rippled through the formerly untouchable tech universe, bringing funding challenges, tanked stocks, and waves of layoffs. Though still employed at the moment, he figures he’d better nudge around his contacts for opportunities and side work.
I outline an article based on my notes from the Ghent trip in February. Writing and thinking about something not related to the coronavirus crisis feels deliciously escapist.
Wednesday, April 15, 2020
I wake up in the wee hours with a dry cough. As I try to fall back to sleep, I think about all the things I need to get done, which transitions into thinking about everything I’d need to get done before coming down with COVID-19.
I finish my Ghent post and put it up on the blog with photos from the trip. I work on my essay about the coronavirus diaries for the Johns Hopkins University alumni magazine.
I wonder about the people from my Lausanne writing group. Will it come back to life once the restrictions on movement retreat?
This worries me a bit about Berlin. Vidy lakefront, Lausanne, Switzerland. April 18, 2020.
The U.S. government announces the depletion of its loans for small businesses. I haven’t heard even a word on my application for the Payroll Protection Plan.
Thursday, April 16, 2020
The salon where I get my hair cut in Lausanne leaves me a voice message about scheduling an appointment for after the 26th. Odd.
Later, I learn that the Swiss government plans to lift the stay-at-home rules starting late this month and continuing through June. The first wave of openings includes hair salons, flower shops, medical offices, and a few other random business types.
Arnaud and I try to remember when his university recommended everyone work at home. We reference the coronavirus diary and learn that he started working from home a month ago. Only a month ago? Already a month ago?
As much as I need a haircut, I don’t yet feel comfortable having someone hover around my head for half an hour. I don’t know how to reconcile this. Cut my own hair and hold for another month?
Worldwide, the conversation has shifted from the number of deaths to how to ease out of restricted movement.
More freedom of movement has no effect on my feeling of uncertainty and instability other than to intensify it in some ways. I have no better sense of what will come next in my personal, familial, or professional life.
Friday, April 17, 2020
I work on my essay for the alumni magazine. Everything I write sits poorly on the page. I rewrite it all three times and end up with two separate essays. I decide to let both essays rest for the weekend. I’ll revisit them on Monday with a clearer perspective.
I’ve seen commentary on-line about using the COVID-19 time (what time?) to fuel creativity. I haven’t gotten bored and my stress levels don’t allow for much artistic expansion.
Writing feels good, though. It’s like entering a dream state. I lose myself and my time in the process. Even when I hate what I’ve written.
I set an objective to get back to my novel outline development over the next week.
The goal setting prompts me to think again about my Stakes project. I’ve enjoyed the conversations, the thinking and expanded perspectives, and the ability to share the insights I’ve received with others through the articles I’ve written. I’d like to revive it.
The news hammers on and on and on about the economy, the economy, the economy.
The way governments, businesses, and the media talk about this crisis brings into depressing relief the way they view people: You must produce and purchase stuff in an endless cycle, or you have no purpose on this planet. You exist to fuel the economy.
Saturday, April 18, 2020
A friend pages up from the intercom that she’s dropped into our mailbox a baking supply I’d texted her about finding in Lausanne. She’d seen it in her local grocery store. Hearing her voice and knowing she’s right here feels surprising and good—even though I can’t go down to see her. There’s a rush of connection.
Arnaud and I exercise in the morning and then have a second cleaning frenzy. If these restrictions stay in place much longer, we’ll have a very good routine in place for deep cleaning the apartment.
Afterward, we go to the grocery store. People have packed the streets and sidewalks. It appears that hearing the restrictions will soon lift equates to believing the restrictions have already lifted.
I’ve seen brief mentions on-line of protests in the United States against the confinement rules. Surely the protesters comprise a small group, per capita. The media gives certain “movements” way too much oxygen for their actual importance. Also, these protests make me sad: How easily business and political interests manipulate people. How reckless, besides.
Sunday, April 19, 2020
A few threads I see this week say this crisis will drive countries and people inward, away from globalism. The idea makes no sense to me.
If anything, this crisis has emphasized to me the interconnectedness of everyone in the world personally and economically, especially in today’s digital age. Today, highlighted starkly by the same crisis underway everywhere on this planet at the same time, the notion of truly separate people and economies demarcated by borders seems even more artificial. Yes, we have cultural differences and respond uniquely, personally and politically, but our health and our economies have locked together irrevocably in interdependence. We can’t go back.
Realizing our global interconnection should only further tear down barriers and walls and create more communication and collaboration. We need the smartest minds on the planet working together right now—not simply the smartest minds in one geographic area. We need to share resources globally to make it through this crisis and all the crises to come.
Perhaps I’m naïve. The human drive to create enemies and “others” has never abated before, and despots and tyrants across time and space have stoked the instinct regularly to control groups of people. So why would even today’s clear evidence of our interconnectedness change anything? Yet I hope it does.
We wind down the evening with Farnsworth family video calls, which warms the heart. My niece and brother karaoke serenade us with a song from “Frozen.”
Week Seven Ahead
As with every week of late, I post this diary entry just before bedtime in Lausanne, Switzerland, on Sunday night. Tonight is April 19, 2020.
As I scan back through these diary entries, I see that each week has a different rhythm and flavor.
I’ll start a new diary for the week ahead tomorrow. Next week’s diary will be the seventh in the series. (And it posted as planned.)
As we head into the next week of our respective COVID-19 experiences, what have you noticed in your world? What did you observe and think this week?
P.S.—For the other entries in the coronavirus diary and other insights and experiences through COVID-19, you can read through my diaries and essays about the coronavirus crisis here.