From the Anthology
Pandemic Reflections: Five Years Later
During their teenage years, the narrative of our children’s lives rarely included my wife Cheryl and me. Our participation typically involved dropping them off at a movie theater, a friend’s house, or their school for a sporting event. Conversations in the car and at home were unfortunately minimal, a practice that continued through their college years; indeed, hearing a complete sentence out of their mouths was cause for celebration. Cheryl and I sadly resigned ourselves to accepting our adult children’s one-word responses and brief conversations as our new normal when we talked on the phone with them.
To be sure, Cheryl and I are blessed to have healthy and happy children. Brittny (34) lives in Columbus, conducts clinical research related to the opioid crisis, and teaches yoga. John-Morgan, a 2018 graduate of Ohio State University, found a job in Denver at a tech company, analyzing data from satellites. His twin brother Christian, a business major at Miami (OH) University, works for the Wall Street Journal in New York City selling property development and real estate ads. Cheryl and I live in Cleveland, and clearly, more than distance separated our children from us.
When the Covid-19 restrictions were announced, Cheryl and I dutifully accepted the Ohio Governor’s stay-at-home mandates, which kept us from seeing our children. We convinced ourselves this was necessary. Indeed, our lives depended on following these new regulations, but we humans are complicated creatures. What we say is not always what we feel.
Brittny also stayed home, working remotely, and ventured out only for groceries. In turn, in fear of being exposed to Covid-19, John-Morgan refused to travel and declined our invitation to pay for his flight to Cleveland on his birthday; nor would he allow us to fly out to see him.
“Wear two masks,” I suggested. “Air travel is safe now.” We hadn’t physically seen him since Christmas 2019, and we missed him terribly.
“No,” he told us matter-of-factly. “Not worth the risk.”
Christian, the more social of our two sons, followed almost all the CDC restrictions (wear a mask, wash your hands) except for one: social distancing. He attended roof-top parties, dined in restaurants with friends, and traveled on airplanes for vacations. Plus, he lived in New York City, one of the original Covid-19 hotspots. Ironically, we didn’t want him to travel home, although we would never tell one of our children not to visit us.
How did we cope? Of course, like most families, we used Zoom and Facetime, but the electronic visits lacked the intimacy of face to face. Whether in a Zoom meeting or over the phone, Brittny seemed preoccupied with preparing a meal or her next yoga lesson; John-Morgan typically spoke in monotone, one-word responses; and Christian always seemed distracted, eager to get onto his next activity. Our Zoom meetings and phone calls, it seemed, were holding him up. As Covid-19 spread so did our anxiety about our children. We prayed for them and all the families that the pandemic had disrupted.
By early fall 2020, Cheryl and I regretfully realized that Thanksgiving and Christmas would not resemble those we had enjoyed in the past. We shrugged, arranged again our dispassionate Zoom meetings, and chose to make the best of it.
Then something happened.
First, I enrolled in my daughter’s streaming yoga class every Monday morning, and later that day, she would call me because she was eager to hear my review of the session and my progress. These conversations blossomed into updates, for instance, about the sad severity of the opioid crisis, her justification for adopting a dog, or her relationship with her boyfriend. She reached out to me, in fact, for advice at least twice a week, and I was thrilled.
I also started walking every day. So did John-Morgan, I learned later. Soon, we slipped into a routine where we talked as we walked, and as our time on sidewalks slowly expanded, so did the number of minutes we spent talking. Typically, it began with John-Morgan texting me and asking to talk. I’d respond immediately, and in time, our conversations stretched to over an hour. We discussed his job, his mountain-climbing, the unfortunate break-up with his girlfriend due to Covid, and the election. In short, he opened up to me in a way he had never done before. His one-word responses to my questions six months earlier were replaced by lengthy views about politics and politicians, by stories about his weekend treks up a new mountain, and by accounts of his improved cooking skills. I privately rejoiced when he sought my advice regarding his pursuit of a new position or requested my input about his next car purchase. Neither of us wanted to say goodbye.
And I learned much from him. He advised me about my diet, that I should stop choosing foods that were cheap, easy, convenient, or all of the above. “Cut the sugar, Dad,” he warned me. “Immediately.” He identified for me that sweetener is not a biological necessity, it’s an addiction. “Cut the complex carbs,” he added. “Bread and pasta—most of this is nothing but sugar to your body below the neck. Eat fresh vegetables.”
Would he have shared this with me a year earlier? Probably not.
The same type of conversations happened between Cheryl and Christian, who started calling his mother at least two or three times a week, always at dinner time when he sought her advice as he prepared his meal. Those conversations were not as long, but they were certainly meaningful. He updated her about his potential for a promotion, and she continued to remind him to stay safe and avoid crowds. Christian also sought her input about presents for his girlfriend or keeping a budget. He became less distracted and more engaged.
Yes, Covid-19 had separated us, but it did not break us. It had re-invented our family dynamic by ironically bringing us closer while still separating us. Cheryl and I listened more; we truly focused on what our kids said and remained in the moment when we talked to them. In short, we re-discovered our daughter and sons. Despite the pandemic, our relationship with our children thrived, and we gained a depth in dialogue that had been missing since their pre-teen days.
Keith Manos's stories have appeared in both print and online magazines like Aethlon, Storgy, October Hill Magazine, Wrestling USA, New Reader Magazine, and Attic Door Press, among others. He has also published twelve books to date, including his debut novel My Last Year of Life (in School), which was traditionally published by Black Rose Writing. Keith has been recognized as one of Ohio’s top writing teachers by the Ohio Council of Teachers of English/Language Arts. Check out all of Keith’s books at www.keithmanos.com.
