This weekend I went into Hoptown Chronicle’s archives to read a story I’d written the day Gov. Andy Beshear announced that restaurants, bars and breweries would have to close within hours because of the novel coronavirus.
It was March 16, 2020.
Around noon that day I walked into Holiday Burgers and sat at the counter to order a quick lunch and to interview a few people for a story about the shutdown.
I wasn’t sure what to make of something none of us had ever experienced — the idea of shutting down and taking cover while we waited to see just how precarious life might become with COVID-19. It seemed to me that one of Hopkinsville’s longest-running, small eateries was the best place to hear what people were thinking and how they were preparing.
I had a grilled pimento cheese sandwich and coffee because how could you not have these diner staples with so much uncertainty just hours away. Three old men next to me ordered breakfast for lunch. Also a good choice, I thought, since you can’t go wrong with buttered-up pancakes and scrambled eggs as comfort food.
One of the people I interviewed was U.S. Marine veteran Tom James. He’d come to Holiday Burgers because his regular haunt, Starbucks, had already shut down.
As he was paying at the register and about to leave, James told me, “This is going to cause a lot of stress. I don’t think people even in their 90s have ever experienced anything like this.”
He was talking about the isolation that was coming.
Now that we are coming up on one year of life with COVID-19, we know James’ comment packed a kind of meaning many of us probably couldn’t fully grasp that day.
For me, the biggest impact has been psychological. I’ve told friends more than a few times that I wasn’t cut out for this. I’ve lost the freedom to get in the car and go anywhere I choose at any time I choose. And until the pandemic made that behavior risky, I didn’t really understand how much I need ongoing, spontaneous encounters with other people to keep my spirits and energy up.
I miss being around people — even strangers whose conversations provide meaningful background noise while I’m reading or writing. I miss being on vacation with my husband. I miss playing Monopoly and Candyland with my grandchildren. I miss being in the Alhambra Theatre, packed elbow to elbow with people clapping and stomping their appreciation for a good band. I miss cooking cornbread at the Salvation Army soup kitchen on Wednesday mornings. I miss movie theaters, bookstores, bars and house parties. I could go on and on.
Despite everything I miss, I know that I am very fortunate. The pandemic hasn’t wrecked my world financially. I haven’t lost my home. I haven’t had to lay off employees, close a business, refinance a loan or plead for more time to pay rent. I haven’t juggled my own work while helping children with their school lessons at the dining room table. I haven’t lost any family members or close friends to the virus.
We’ve all experienced big changes. Some more than others. As we approach the anniversary of shutdowns and the first coronavirus cases in Christian County, I would like to hear from Hoptown Chronicle readers. What do you miss? How have you changed? What was hard? What was heartbreaking? How have you endured? What was encouraging? Who helped you when you needed it most?
If you have thoughts about any of these questions — or others concerning the pandemic — please email me. I want to hear from you.
Jennifer P. Brown is co-founder, publisher and editor of Hoptown Chronicle. You can reach her at editor@hoptownchronicle.org. She spent 30 years as a reporter and editor at the Kentucky New Era. She is a co-chair of the national advisory board to the Institute for Rural Journalism and Community Issues, governing board president for the Kentucky Historical Society, and co-founder of the Kentucky Open Government Coalition.
