In March of 2020, my family and I were on spring break in Bentonville, Arkansas, taking in the sights and sounds, visiting art museums, dining out, and ultimately just being tourists in the Natural State.
The temperatures were warming up; we were on the other side of daylight savings; and I was gearing up for the Memphis Tigers to play in their conference tournament. Then, the NBA canceled their games and the Tigers quickly followed. From there, everything started to fall like a game of dominoes no one wanted to play.
We hit the grocery store in Arkansas, and began our trek home to Memphis. We listened to NPR and as many TED Talks as we could about this bizarre and contagious coronavirus we were all just learning about. All the while, trying not to panic or let our kids see that we were absolutely terrified. At the time, our girls, Ella and Bea, were only 8 and 5. They were confused, yet curious, and we didn’t want to keep things from them. Finding that balance of keeping them informed is something I’ll always grapple with.
Remember how quiet it was and how everyone was just as confused as everyone else about what to do or not do? This was before things got political, of course. I won’t go into that here, but I remember really getting into the hunkering down part of the pandemic, especially at the beginning. It was spring after all, so we started planting things and turning our backyard into our very own park. While we were all home together trying to work and go to “school,” it was a nice distraction to continuously improve our lot and try out new projects.
During this time, we were worried about friends, family, co-workers, first responders, and our community at large. We wanted to help but not get in the way, so we started supporting local artists by purchasing their work and restaurants by ordering curbside. I distinctly remember not wanting to be gone from home very long. I’d go where I needed to go and get home. It was such a relief to get home.
The isolation was weird for me because I’m an extrovert, but with technology as it is - computers and smartphones – I found ways to stay engaged and active, musically and otherwise. As a family, we rode bikes, watched movies, and cooked food together. It had its perks, but then of course we felt guilty about that as so many we knew were struggling, sick, and/or on the front lines of fighting the pandemic. Not to mention, many without families or partners felt isolated and depressed.
While there was always hope and some semblance of joy, everyone was carrying so much weight and no one was burdenless. We wanted an end, a goalpost if you will, but even today, that still hasn’t happened.
Three years later, I’m not the extrovert I once was. I like to visit and hang but then I like to get home. I like being home and feeling safe. In the end, we have everything we could possibly need here at home and I’m grateful for that. What do you remember about the early days of the pandemic? I know it’s different for everyone but it’s an experience that we will all take with us for the rest of our lives.
Jeff Hulett is a freelance writer, musician, and PR consultant in Memphis. He lives in the Vollintine Evergreen neighborhood with his wife Annie, two girls Ella and Beatrice, and dog Chalupa.