How Far We’ve Come

A year ago this week, I stuck a sign on the Swarthmorean office door. It read, in part:

The Swarthmorean newspaper is open and continuing to keep you informed about what’s happening in our community.

The onset of COVID-19 makes this a challenging time in our town, in our country, and in the world. We are working to keep you up to date about how we in our community need to protect ourselves, and also to share stories about how our friends and neighbors are coping.

I remember how panicked I felt when I taped the paper to the glass, then locked the door. The first letter — the “T” in “The” — hadn’t printed. But, in that moment, printing out a new version seemed beyond what I could do. 

Back then, I imagined the near future would be like something out of a zombie movie: people dying everywhere, the food supply interrupted. I wasn’t the only one. The aisles of the Swarthmore Co-op were full of frightened shoppers buying peanut butter and beans. “Thanksgiving on steroids’’ was Co-op manager Mike Litka’s description.

While this last year hasn’t been like that, it has certainly been bad enough. Many of us have lost people we loved to the pandemic. In the borough of Swarthmore, we’ve been lucky to record only one death. In Rutledge: one. In Rose Valley: one. In Nether Providence, the number has been much higher: 62. And, of course, there have been many less tangible losses.

A year later, spring is arriving. Vaccines are becoming more available. The mood around town and across the country is largely hopeful. On Sunday, I had an outdoor visit with a fully vaccinated friend, who talked joyfully about sitting in her living room last week with another fully vaccinated friend. The joy of sitting! This Saturday, I’m going to visit my fully vaccinated parents. I’m imagining hugging them for the first time in a year.

Literary criticism calls rain falling when characters are sad, or the sky clearing up to blue and sunny at a happy ending, the “pathetic fallacy”: the illusion that nature shares our feelings. The universe seems to be feeling with us now, as it spreads purple crocuses across our greening lawns.

At the same, I’m aware that as some things go back to “normal,” troubles and griefs that have receded from my awareness are creeping back in. Worries I set aside to concentrate on getting through the year turn out to be still there. I think this is true on a large scale too. Critical issues we’ve pushed to the back burner continue to simmer away. Climate change, for instance.

I’ve been thinking about the ways this year has changed us. Have we become more attuned to the needs of others, or, conversely, more focused on ourselves? More likely to appreciate the moment we’re in, or more focused than ever on the future? It seems too soon to say.

I’m not even sure yet how I myself have changed. Like many people, I have burrowed more deeply into my household this year. I’m lucky that I like the people I’ve been stuck with, and that we have a safe place to be stuck. I’ve gotten to know the members of my bubble better over these months, which surprised me some, considering how well I thought I knew them already. Together, we’ve improvised small, comforting rituals of closeness. I hope we keep them.

Much as I love my household members and am grateful for their continued company, I know I’m not alone in missing a broader sense of community. Right this minute, I don’t quite remember what that feels like. But I’m asking myself what I’m going to do to reclaim it, or maybe create it, as it becomes more possible to be more together.

The message on the sign I taped to the door ends this way: “How can we support each other? Cheer each other up? Keep an eye out for those who live alone? We’d love to hear your ideas.” Thanks to those of you who have shared your thoughts and experiences and photos with us.

Now, I’m curious what the year has been like for you. Has it altered you? If so, how? Have your relationships changed? Your hobbies? Your plans for the future? Write to us at editor@swarthmorean.com and let us know. If we get enough responses, we’ll share them.

That sign with its missing “T” is still up. Possibly, laziness has prevented me from printing out a corrected version. Or the sense that there have been more important things to worry about.

But maybe I haven’t fixed it because I like the little jolt seeing it gives me. It still brings back that March afternoon. It’s an artifact of the beginning, helping me measure how far I’ve come.

Rachel Pastan
Editor