Surreal. That is the world I have been thrust into. I’ve fallen into one of the works of Picasso. It’s a bizarre sensation.
I had been watching some of the headlines about COVID-19 in the weeks leading up to Spring vacation. When our time off arrived, I left campus with a group of friends and peers. We were headed for Colorado and from there on to Utah.
During the drive through Colorado, we stopped at several gas stations and rest areas. While at one of the stations, as I left the bathroom and was on my way to the door, I glanced a newspaper laying on a table. It was the March 6th edition of the Summit Daily. The front page read, “Coronavirus confirmed: Summit County visitor is 1st to test positive in Colorado.”
That was my Colorado welcoming call, a message I stared at on March 7th with little interest in it apart from proximity. So began the colorful and extravagant stream of connections to COVID-19 amid my Spring vacation.
We soon made our way to Moab, Utah with COR Expeditions. We were set to do a week-long spiritual retreat in the backcountry. I have to admit it was quite fulfilling. I was forced into facing a number of anxieties I had, not least of which was a fear of heights. The first three days of the retreat involved rock climbing and repelling, which challenged me in my self-limitations. I believe I was able to overcome a number of my fears among the hills and mounts we traversed in our time there.
The majority of the excursion was spent away from web access and out of reach of service reception. However, near the end of the week, once we clambered up to the summit of a landform several hundred feet high, a good friend of mine discovered he had reception. He began to check his emails from his college account.
Soon the word got out that Spring vacation was extended to an additional week. The reason: out of concern for the overall health of the faculty and student population on our campus. This news brought about varied responses from my fellow students. Some were pleased to be able to return home and visit family. Others were irritated. And the rest were at a loss for words.
In hindsight, the college made a good call. After all, we had groups on mission trips traveling all over the world who would be returning to campus later that weekend. And we would be among them. Yet, at this point, few of us understood the details of what was happening – both at college and with the disease at large.
There was nothing for us to do but ponder what we did know. Meanwhile, in the thick of it, our COR Expedition leaders calmed us and said to direct our attention to the day ahead of us, not to the concern of the world’s pandemonium.
Friday was soon upon us. It was rainy. We felt a bit clammy in our waterproof outer coverings.
The agenda for the day involved hiking to two different arches in our general vicinity. To my amused surprise, my appreciation of irony was piqued when I learned that the name of one of the sites we were to visit happened to be Corona Arch. Later that afternoon, we got our first shower of the week. The retreat would last only one more night. Another friend, who had been in charge of funds for the trip, spent a good deal of time calling the college’s administrative people to get the scoop of what was going down.
In the meantime, I spotted a newspaper stand in the waiting room. I picked up a copy of the weekly Moab Sun News and poured over the lead story of the front page: “Grand County grapples with coronavirus response.” I read nearly the entire article in one sitting. Grand County had decided against legal restrictions on local businesses and large gatherings. This decisive maneuver came out of anxiety over the area’s economic health, which is significantly driven by the tourist industry. Hence there were concerns that limiting group activities would hurt the immediate economy. Simultaneously, some of the policymakers had big concerns about the hospital capacity and capability of caring for victims of a coronavirus outbreak in their county.
In the same article, it was reported that the coronavirus had now reached the status of a pandemic. This was the first I had heard of the announcement.
This was when I really started to form my own opinion about the COVID-19 virus. There was no longer a sense of amusement, and I felt something beyond mere curiosity. It was no longer something distant and unrelated to me. While I still wasn’t especially concerned with it, the virus had certainly become concerned with me. I felt as though proper precautions should be set in place, particularly with regard to personal hygiene. We have a responsibility to safeguard the health of ourselves and others.
I halted my leisurely but enlightening reading of the Moab Sun News as my friend had an announcement to make. We students had the opportunity to return to campus for up to 24 hours, and collectively that’s what we decided to do.
Flooded with media mingled with our own woes, we made our way out of Utah and back to our campus in Kansas. The newly-discovered coronavirus captivated our thoughts and much of our conversation. Meanwhile, we sought a Mass to fulfill our Sunday obligation. We soon discovered that numerous dioceses were no longer celebrating Masses out of concern for the coronavirus outbreak. The Archdiocese of Denver, CO was one such place.
Hardpressed to find a Mass, we learned that many dioceses, including the one back in Kansas, had offered a dispensation for our Sunday obligation due to the unique circumstances of the national response to the virus. The whole world really seemed to be tilted on edge. It was getting harder to see clearly.
We had left the ways of the world for but a week. And upon our return to civilization, emerging from the backcountry, we climbed into a hotbed of physical, economic, and spiritual turmoil. Many people in the U.S., including myself, looked on at other countries with mild interest. Now, just as in World War II, America did not concern herself with the problems of the global community until her own borders became compromised.
We have come to that point. Now back home in Illinois, I patiently await what the future holds in store. I have learned what empathy is for those affected by COVID-19 because I myself have become a victim – not in body but in spirit. My disfigured form has been applied to the canvas by the strokes of Picasso.
I wonder when I might step out, when we all can step out.
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