You're Goddamn Right I'm Better Off Than Four Years Ago
I mean, what are we even talking about?
Four years ago today, our world shut down. Or, maybe it’s more correct to say that the shutdown was completed: yesterday was the fourth anniversary of Union shutting down after the announcement of a positive Covid test for someone on staff, but today is the fourth anniversary of the kids’ school sending all their stuff home and closing for the rest of the year.
A lot of what went on then makes for good stories (or at least mildly amusing anecdotes) now. We got the news that the college was shutting down effective immediately as we were about to start the weekly Physics and Astronomy colloquium, with 30-ish people gathered in a small classroom, eating pizza. After a brief discussion, we decided we were already screwed, so went ahead with the talk, since the speaker had made the trip. I ended up making the final exam for my modern physics course optional— I told the students that if they didn’t want to deal with it, I’d just give them the letter grade that went with their average to that point. Only a handful of them took me up on it, and all of them scored within a few percent of their average to that point, so it made no difference at all.
I spent the next week or two thinking about how to convert my Spring term modular lab course for non-majors to a remote format, which ended up involving a bunch of YouTube videos and mailing diffraction gratings and laser pointers all over the country. I spent countless hours on Zoom “office hours” that term, which is why my Zoom avatar is a picture of Charlie the pupper— I got sick of having a Zoom window open with my own stupid face in it, so replaced it with a cute dog photo.
I also spent a lot of time thinking of things to keep the kids active and engaged when we were all stuck at home: building obstacle courses out in the yard for them to do parkour, dusting off some old activity kits, playing board games and watching movies. WE successfully pushed The Pip into learning to ride a bike (which he had been refusing for a good while), and then I had to make a run to Target to buy the last kid-size bike they had in stock. I remember tying a dri-fit shirt over my face as a makeshift mask on my way in, because that was just starting to be a Thing.
Four years ago today marked the real kick-off of the weirdest several months I’ve lived through (and, as my kids constantly remind me, I’m officially Old). Weirdly erratic availability of staple goods— those days when I was buying flour in fifty-pound plain brown sacks labeled for catering sale, because there was nothing else, or when finding toilet paper in stock was an unexpected bonanza. At-home “school” for the kids, with SteelyKid upstairs in the bedroom slogging through remote classes on a Chromebook, and The Pip powering through a day’s worth of worksheets in an hour, then playing video games for the rest of the day. Long bike rides on major roads without a single car in sight. Buying a lot of takeout from our favorite local places, in an effort to ensure that they would still be around when everything came back to normal.
(The one genuinely funny story out of the remote school era happened when The Pip was doing one of his third-grade class’s weekly Google Meet sessions on Kate’s computer while I typed away on my book at the other end of the room. They didn’t issue Chromebooks to elementary school kids at that time, so the district mostly just sent packets of worksheets home, but they did get online once a week for the teacher to check in with all the kids. She would pose a general question, and go around calling on each student to answer it in turn, on the video call.
(Anyway, I was working on my stuff with half an ear on what was going on in the third grade, when I heard the teacher say “[The Pip], do you have a question?” This was a real shock, because The Pip only grudgingly participated in this— he doesn’t talk much in class under the best of circumstances. For him to be asking a question on the Google Meet was extremely unexpected, so I tuned in to hear what he wanted to ask.
(Which turned out to be “[Classmate], are you wearing pants?” Followed closely by a startled squeak, because [Classmate] had, in fact, just been sitting there in underwear. You could also just about hear the teacher thinking about the bottle of Chardonnay she was going to open the minute the call ended…)
And, of course, there was the shitshow that was going on in the wider world. Obsessive focus on rising and falling test counts, hospitalizations, and fatalities. Horrible scary stories about awful deaths or super-spreader events and “long Covid.” The complete shutdown of huge swathes of the world economy, and the accompanying rise in excruciatingly stupid and hostile arguments about public health measures. And, of course, the grindingly awful Election 2020 season.
It’s an election year again, of course, which has led to a few attempts to dust off the classic “Are you better off today than you were four years ago?”1 Which is clumsily aimed at the usual basket of “kitchen table” economic concerns, but taken literally can only be answered “Were you recently kicked in the head by a horse, or have you always been a fucking moron?”
Because, Jesus, what a stupid question that is. And what a colossal piece of idiocy to bust out that phrasing in front of anyone old enough to have formed conscious memories of 2020. Yeah, a bunch of stuff is more expensive now than it was five Februaries ago, but I can get the stuff I need from the local store. I’m not looking at row upon row of empty shelves, breathing through sweaty fabric while trying to think of something I could cook with the weird smattering of ingredients that are actually on hand. I’m not worried that any of the businesses I work with or buy from are about to go under because nobody is allowed to leave the house for fear of deadly disease.
More importantly, I’m not worried about myself or my kids lacking the socialization needed to maintain emotional equilibrium. And I’m no longer gripped by the fear that anyone I love is going to catch the plague and die before I get to see them again.
So, yeah, I’m better off than I was four years ago, immeasurably so. And I find it mind-boggling that anyone could think the answer would be anything else, even in the context of a brain-meltingly awful election season.
Bit of a rant, I guess, but the odd bit of catharsis is Good. If you like that, I can’t guarantee more, but here’s a button:
And if you feel so moved, the comments will be open:
As an aside, this seems like such a stupidly obvious political slogan that it’s hard to believe it was first used during my lifetime.
1- Yeah but you know what they mean. Compare prices now to those of pre COVID under the benevolent Orange God Emperor...
2- You'd be surprised how quickly people forget. Especially the emotional impact. It tends to dissipate fast.
FWIW, for me, COVID was a blessed time. The kids were with their grandparents - who live in the remote countryside and are high school teachers so homeschooling was a non issue and I wasn't concerned about anyone's health there. And I convinced my management that I could work from home instead of working in a different country {where HQ is based)...
Paris with streets empty of cars and 95% less people is a truly beautiful city.
The lockdown era was actually pretty great in the Southern US. Most people took it easy. There was relatively little concern about the Rona as demonstrated through our halfassed response and quick exit. As a person in my 20s, I recognize it may be the last time my immediate family lives for a while under the same roof. But I get your point! Thx for writing