The Press asks: In this time of pandemic, what have you learned?
For the last issue of 2020, the Press sought answers from fellow citizens to the following question:
What have you learned about yourself during the past 10 months that has most surprised,
pleased, or distressed you?
A selection of the responses is included here, edited for clarity and length.
Pat Jennings
Fairbank Street
I need people. Some find personal contact, conversation, and sharing ideas debilitating. I find every one of those things exhilarating. This probably indicates some deep-seated problem, but there it is. I have found I am very self-oriented. I miss having those little casual conversations that add so much spice to everyday interactions. I miss putting my arms around someone and hugging. I miss my old life and want it back. This is not going to happen. I need to adjust my thinking every morning.
God bless my family for their constant love and communication. I worry about those in need, those who have suffered such great losses. I have found ways to contribute essentials to their lives. I have been active—in my church, a new bridge group. I love the Jacquie Lawson “send a card” website. I am surprised at my capacity for happiness, relying on myself.
I can still encourage others, make joint efforts pleasing and successful, and have told everyone who will listen about Libby, the library’s online borrowing program. I must say, because of plenty of time, the grounds around my house have never looked so flourishing and well tended.
I don’t like being alone so much. I am irritated at myself for constantly forgetting the new basics. It is a reeducation every day and, I imagine, will continue to be so.
Nick Browse
Still River Road
Well, first, if you buy hiking boots too small (because you haven’t tried them on), you need to expect several days of discomfort before the inevitable purchase of replacements. Second, I’m happier with takeout pizza (that travels well) than with takeout gourmet (that arrives as mush). And third, social distancing isn’t the disaster I had feared.
I’ve long been comfortable with solitude, working alone, traveling solo, and the like, but it’s always been knowing that social contact, in person, is just around the corner. A chance to recharge, if you will. Family provides this, of course, but friends do as well, across the music and dance communities, and in the various committees and organizations I’m part of. These are people I rely on to share my ups and downs, test my opinions against, and generally keep me within the norms of life. What would happen without these supports?
Surprisingly little, it’s turned out. I’ve met a few friends a few times, and have been greatly lifted by this, but I’ve found my own resources to be stronger than expected. Strength comes from knowing that absent friends are friends still, that we are all missing each other, and that electronic contact is better than no contact at all. It comes from knowing that my family is more fortunate than most, and lacking for nothing. And it comes from years of experiences and challenges, life lessons I’ve never been tested on until now. Early indications are that I pass.
Hugh Silk
Oak Hill Road
The pandemic has exposed so much about each of us—for me, as I try to think introspectively, I have been surprised at how lonely I have felt. I have been at work daily during these difficult times, around fellow health workers and yet isolated in a sea of others. We see fewer patients in our office, we don masks to talk to one another (so we do less of it), and meetings are conducted by Zoom. I went into health care because I love people and now I am distanced from them in every aspect of my craft.
On the other hand, I have been pleased I have been a source of consistency to my staff, medical students, friends, and family. I have been learning as much as I can about the virus and sharing practical knowledge. I have assessed peoples’ moods and anxieties and done what I could to shore them up.
Lastly, I have been distressed, wishing I could do more. Early on I volunteered for many shifts to care for the homeless with COVID-19 at the DCU center and started a similar program in Leominster. I feel I have run out of gas a little. Always one to have something in the tank for the final stretch, and hoping to do a little more.
More importantly, I have been impressed with how much so many others have done to keep things going: in this town, my office, UMass Medical School, and this state. Kudos to all!
Carl Sciple
Fairbank Street
You asked, “What have you learned about yourself during the past 10 months that has most surprised, pleased, or distressed you?”
Surprised: I could be very happy, somewhat isolated at home, as long as I was productively occupied.
Pleased: had time to read, think, ponder ideas, reflect on many subjects, and discuss them with Pat, my wife.
Distressed: The more I thought about the divide in our country, I became more distressed with politicians, who seem to want power and money for themselves and to have forgotten our common founding goals of freedom, life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.
I’m also distressed that our national news coverage seems to be a mouthpiece for either the Democratic or the Republican party. I wish they were more like Joe Friday from “Dragnet,” in the 1950s, who just wanted “the facts ma’am,” and reported accordingly.
Jen Schoenberg
Harris Lane
As a volunteer firefighter, I took the philosophy “adapt and overcome” and applied it to my position as program coordinator with the Council on Aging. I enjoy helping others, so while 2020 has been challenging, it’s also allowed me to put that volunteer firefighting spirit into practice.
During the pandemic-imposed restrictions, the COA staff continues to deliver services to our senior citizens, though we reluctantly closed the doors to the public. Sadly, Hildreth House is temporarily without the buzz of friends, volunteers, laughter, and chatter during lunches, technology classes, men’s and women’s coffee, and numerous crafting groups. Instead of planning trips for the most vulnerable population that this pandemic has affected, I had to learn how to Zoom these programs in an effort to provide some connection for one another.
I am proud of this COA team and the countless volunteers in Harvard and how hard we all worked to adapt and overcome the challenges this pandemic has brought to our seniors. We can’t wait to see everyone in person in 2021.
Similarly, the Fire Department had to at first adjust to remote monthly meetings, and we’ve put some of our gatherings on hold. It’s great to be a part of a team who are all committed to continue to safely respond to emergencies to help others in their time of need during a pandemic.
Connie Larrabee
Under Pin Hill Road
I’m a big worrier. I wake up every morning around 2 and worry myself back to sleep an hour or so later. I worry about my children and grandchildren, problems at work or with friends, whatever email glitch surfaced that day. But most of all this year, day and night, I worried about the election, or the environment, or climate change. What surprised me the most is that I hardly worried about the pandemic at all.
That’s partly because it hasn’t affected me personally that much. But climate change hasn’t affected me much either, at least not yet. And it’s not because I feel particularly safe from COVID-19. I’m pretty careful, but I know I could get it and so could the people I love.
It’s just that, in this one case, I do what I can to protect myself (and the few people I come in contact with) and then just let it go. I’ve noticed the same attitude starting to creep into other parts of my life, too. I’m not in as much of a hurry to get things done, or as determined to take risks I shouldn’t take anymore. I recognize what’s worth worrying about and what isn’t. I’m more mindful of the fragility of life, and of health.
I wish I had learned this stuff earlier; I could have gotten a lot more sleep.
Claudia Wesley
Old Shirley Road
At the beginning, showing houses was a challenge for both owners and buyers who were afraid of COVID-19. I learned how to do virtual showings using my phone or creating virtual video tours. Simple things like keeping windows open to circulate the air can be challenging when the weather is cold. But even with these challenges, houses are being sold and more people are interested in moving to communities like Harvard, seeing the value of being in a more rural area with open spaces. Also, it was difficult being away from my colleagues at Coldwell Banker in Concord, but we became Zoom jockeys.
Finally, my adult children have all come home from college and work to stay with my husband and me. Our empty nest has become full again.
Joyce Maiore
Slough Road
One of the things that I’ve learned is I have a far greater appreciation and love for my career as a labor and delivery RN. I’ve realized over the past nine months that despite the high stress, long hours, and physical demands, I truly love helping people.
A recently retired colleague said you never have to work if you love your job; I feel very fortunate to do what I love. I get to socialize with my colleagues who are my closest confidants and friends. But I also share the heartache of supporting my patient in labor after her husband has been removed due to a COVID-positive test. I share with my colleagues the fear of bringing home this virus to my family. So to say that I’ve learned something, here it is: I’m more grateful than ever to be in a place that feels like I belong and make a difference, especially during a year such as this.
What’s pleased me is to live in a place where people adhere to rules such as wearing a mask and social distancing. The community has also been pretty amazing with providing masks and meals for health care providers, and with showing their support in a variety of ways, which is very much appreciated.
Billy Salter
Elm Street
The pandemic has not affected my activities much. I still walk my dog, still do a lot of reading, still have a quiet social life. But it has changed what I think is important. Though I spend more time than before in video chats with my two daughters, I miss them much more. We didn’t eat at restaurants much; now I want to more than ever. Now I enjoy occasional outings to the grocery store or other errands, while they used to be annoying. Once we can have a social life again, it will not be as quiet. I am even contemplating joining Facebook to connect with old friends.
I also learned something quite disturbing: I’ve been too optimistic about our country. I’m frightened by the willingness of many Americans to embrace anti-democratic ideas and to blame each other for our shared difficulties, and I worry about what the “new normal” will be when the disease is tamed sufficiently for us to resume regular activities.
I already knew that we’re all mortal, but the pandemic has highlighted my awareness of the fragility of the membrane that separates each of us from eternity.
All we will ever do we must do while on this side of that membrane.
Stephanie Opalka
Depot Road
I find joy in masks. While every mask I make is special because it is a hug protecting someone, the themed masks made for friends have brought me joy. An avid skier and kayaker, my first goal was to find ski fabric for masks. When I wear my kayak or ski mask, I know that others who love the outdoors as much as I do are wearing a similar one. They have told me that they smile when they reach for that special mask. Times that stand out this year—four women socially distanced paddling on Bare Hill Pond, all wearing our matching kayak masks. Finding ways to make a mask positive—matching holiday masks, iron-ons for your kids, anything that makes you smile and brings joy helps.
Kathy Hewett
Elm Street
With my farm relatives in their tiny Kansas church, we sang the hymn, “Work, for the Night Is Coming.” Work and family were the uncontested pillars of my life. And then, pandemic restrictions settled my ambivalence; I retired for good.
It was not just the actual work I missed, but more the idea of work, around which I had organized myself since adolescence. First, I substituted gardening (expected). Then I obsessively followed the waves of politically divisive events and COVID-19 illness (unexpected). Things I saved to do “later” (mending, knitting, copying cassette tapes, making family scrapbooks) I found to be daunting or, worse, boring. I vacillated: Clean out my files or volunteer as a teletherapist? (Work again!) I recognized survivor guilt for my family (so far) and was surprised at how much I was buoyed by them.
As months passed, a vague, unfamiliar lethargy settled in. I struggled to have a routine, to complete my to-do lists, to be hopeful, to comprehend the very different views of others (including my relatives). I think I see how the confusion, the unmooring of routines, and the background of nameless dread can intensify the need to find, or create, meaning.
I’ve also realized that my retirement adjustment is typical; that the search for meaning and meaningful action takes a lifetime. So, every day, my hair gets longer and my knees feel worse. Still, Billy makes ridiculous jokes and 17-year-old canine Melina eases herself down from her couch bed. It could be SO much worse, I see.
Abby Besse
Westcott Road
As for most families, 2020 was a challenging, stressful, confusing, heartbreaking, and socially isolating year for us. Navigating the emotional needs of four school-aged children as we all juggled the constant disappointment and mourning of canceled plans and dreams, as well as the fear of the unknown virus and its impact on our future, at times seemed just too much to endure.
But, as a family, we persevered and continue to do so. This perseverance gave way to a shift in focus and routine that we learned that we desperately needed and helped shed many things that weren’t serving us. We began to plan and dream in a new way. We noticed our gratitude for what we once, perhaps, took for granted, such as going to school, our physical and mental health, the beauty of our rural town, playdates, shopping in a store, hugging a loved one, and toilet paper. Ultimately, 2020 not-so-gently reminded the six of us that simplicity is a blessing, family and friends are indispensable, the human spirit is resilient, and we CAN do hard things.
Bruce Dolimount
West Bare Hill Road
The lack of social contact has pervaded the town. Zoom meetings, reduced church services, not being able to enter the Town Hall, library, Hildreth House, or the General Store have all been hard.
But it seems to me the impact has been hardest on our seniors. They no longer have the normal social functions that bring them together for an hour or two at Hildreth House, such as Tuesday and Thursday lunches, men’s and women’s coffee groups, and more. This has greatly affected those who can’t drive, are single shut-ins, have no family close to help, and have very limited services in town—other than the Council on Aging.
Jay Ryan and Randi Dorn
Park Lane
On March 16, 2020, we walked out of our offices, locked the doors, and figured we were headed for a few weeks of mandatory “staycation.” Retirement was something we were preparing for, possibly beginning in June. How long could it take for this virus to pass through Massachusetts and life get back to normal? We masked, quarantined, and stocked up on our supplies of hand sanitizer, soap, paper towels, and toilet paper. Relax, cook meals, and get educated about a pandemic?
Our coping strategies have been keeping safe, spending time together, laughing, walks with neighbors and our 2019-adopted rescue dog, reading and enjoying meals on the back deck, music, gardening, and many Skype, Zoom, and phone calls with our children, family, and friends. Online shopping deliveries and pickups, and home haircuts have also become part of our lives.
We continue to work, cope, and are eager to get in line for a vaccine to allow us to travel to the beach this summer and visit a part of our family who have recently relocated to France.
Carlene Phillips
Oak Hill Road
During the pandemic, I have seen the worst and the best in myself, both of which surprised me. I have always thought of myself as fairly laid back and not one to get too emotionally worked up about things. So I didn’t know how to deal with the cycle of panic attacks and high blood pressure that beset me at the end of March. I wasn’t conscious of being afraid or worried, but at random times anxiety would course through my body, alarming me because I felt helpless to control it.
On the other hand, I experienced long periods of motivation and self-discipline when I accomplished something I had wanted to do for 14 years. I made progress on a book I had previously worked on only in spurts, being easily distracted by lack of confidence and commitment. I have found both my vulnerability and my sustained creativity, caused by relative isolation, to be somewhat bewildering.
Kathy and Pete Jackson
Jacob Gates Road
We learned that Harvard is a great and healthy place to live. We hike the trails and communicate with residents who respect each other’s health and safety. We appreciate the General Store and the outside dining, which started just in time. We also learned how many projects we pushed aside for many years and now had the opportunity to complete with no excuses. We learned to be patient. We learned that a healthy sense of humor can get us through this.
Lucy Wallace
Orchard Hill
Our family moved to Harvard in 1979, and I have served on the Select Board (aka Board of Selectmen) since 1998—except for a two-year hiatus. Harvard, we found, was a place that valued its sense of community and celebrations.
We also soon learned that Harvard was a strong, resilient community. It survived hurricanes and major snowstorms that periodically tore through town, taking down trees and electric lines for days at a time. We hunkered down and cleaned up afterwards. It survived the great ice storm of 2008, which left much of the town without power for a week, and the woods in tatters.
But the pandemic turned everything around and forced us all to rethink how the town serves its residents. It has meant changing the public’s easy access to Town Hall and eliminating the annual community celebrations we so treasure. We all have pivoted and adapted. While Zoom may allow us to “see” one another, we have lost the ability to linger, talk, share lives. I miss the day-to-day, person-to-person contact I have so enjoyed. I look forward to lingering at the dump to hear from constituents.
With patience, I —we— will get there.
Laura Vilain
Oak Hill Road
COVID-19 for our family has meant sadness, anger, and feelings of helplessness.
Last May my dad, Joseph McDonald, who was 95, died in hospice care. We were only allowed to talk with him through his first-floor window. There was no cell phone coverage or public WiFi, and the old-fashioned clamshell phone was too heavy for him to hold. We were at the window for the week, rain and shine, with artwork and even a trumpet serenade from my dad’s granddaughter. In the days before he died, Dad mouthed, “I love you.”
Since this time, the hospice house, on our recommendation, updated their phones, complete with speakers, and now provides WiFi and laptops for use. Dad would be proud. We miss him.
