Readers share memories of a pandemic year

Remembering the ups and downs of another strange year.
Andy Gutman (lower right) and family celebrate an engagement at a restaurant in Arvada, Colorado, a suburb of Denver. His son and his son's fiancee are seated at the back corner of the table.

Credit: Courtesy of Andy Gutman

Credit: Courtesy of Andy Gutman

Andy Gutman (lower right) and family celebrate an engagement at a restaurant in Arvada, Colorado, a suburb of Denver. His son and his son's fiancee are seated at the back corner of the table.

A family visit. Walks around a lake. The quest to get vaccinated. A reason to hope.

The Atlanta Journal-Constitution asked readers to share their highlights of 2021 and how they coped in this second year of a global pandemic that continues to upend daily life. So many people have suffered this year. But amid everything — the grief, uncertainty and loss —some have found ways to carry on. Whether through travel, a baseball game or the act of getting vaccinated, people found ways to keep their heads up and endure. Here are a few of their stories.

LIFE TAKEN, LIFE GIVEN

Last January, after months of being under the Governor’s shelter in place order for high risk people, months of escaping our house daily for neighborhood dog walks in Decatur, my husband and I began to venture further. We rediscovered the lake in Avondale Estates, less than a 10 minute drive. Every morning we would make several rounds, admiring the calm waters, the trees along the shore, and the bird life.

We counted the geese, the mallards, the other ducks whose names we would learn from the other walkers we ran into, many of them regulars.

Circling a body of water was soothing, the new vista was energizing, and the community of fowl and daily human companions lifted our spirits. It was no longer just about the two of us facing the fear and tedium of lockdown.

As spring came, we marveled at the new life — two duck mothers with their many ducklings, most of whom did not survive their natural predators: snapping turtles, hawks, owls.

We exchanged duck brood stories with others, all of us keeping count on how many of these little ones survived, even thrived.

And late this past summer, when a duck mother on her second brood was killed by a leashed dog, the humans in this community mutually mourned, angered at the unexpected and unnecessary loss, worried about the survival of her remaining offspring.

A memorial to a mother duck at Lake Avondale.

Credit: Courtesy of Rev. Marti Keller

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Credit: Courtesy of Rev. Marti Keller

Perhaps we were also collectively mourning for — and finding solace from — the unexpected and unnecessary losses from COVID that have yet to cease.

Rev. Marti Keller, Decatur

Andy Gutman at the top of Pikes Peak.

Credit: Courtesy of Andy Gutman

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Credit: Courtesy of Andy Gutman

FAMILY REUNION

This seemingly endless pandemic has prevented so many activities for close to two years, but we recently returned from visiting our sons in Colorado. We drove 1,400 miles to get there! Fortunately, throughout the pandemic we have been able to continue most outdoor activities, and COVID-19 has not had an impact on Mother Nature. (We experienced) one of our very rare ventures to dine indoors at a restaurant, but it was a special occasion as we celebrated my son’s wedding engagement, occurring earlier that day, with his fiancée and her family.

Andy Gutman, East Cobb

03/30/2021 —Atlanta, Georgia — The entrance to the Mercedes-Benz Stadium Community Vaccination Center in Atlanta, Tuesday, March 30, 2021. (Alyssa Pointer / Alyssa.Pointer@ajc.com)

Credit: Alyssa Pointer / Alyssa.Pointer@ajc.com

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Credit: Alyssa Pointer / Alyssa.Pointer@ajc.com

THE WAIT IS OVER

I am standing in a long line that is moving rather quickly in the bowels of Mercedes-Benz Stadium. I feel excitement and comradery with the others in line, all fellow health care workers, the young Asian male six feet in front of me, and the African American female CNA (certified nursing assistant) still in her light blue scrubs, six feet behind me. I smile at her, so grateful, we get this opportunity. I feel like this is bigger than me, that I am doing something important. Only 1% of the population is vaccinated so far, and I will be included in that number. It’s a little cool down here, so I’m glad I wore my warm wool jacket. I text my my husband: “waiting in line, lots of people, lots of volunteers.”

“Ok cool,” he replies. He is not eligible yet.

I make my way to the head of the line and show my medical badge ID and DL to the volunteer at the table, they hand me a white COVID-19 vaccination card with the CDC logo on it. My new prized possession. They herd everyone into another holding area, where chairs are spaced apart and I grab a seat close to the front. I sit and wait for them to call my name. This is a pretty big operation; they are hoping to give over 1,000 shots today. I’m doing my part, I pull out my book to read, but I’m a little too excited — jittery in a good way — to concentrate. When they call my name, I stride into another room lined with tables and medical people in their masks and gloves, I find an empty seat and roll up my sleeve. DONE.

I have to take my pic and post it. Lots of likes right away. I am proud.

M.D. Oakes, Peachtree Corners

KIND OF LIKE IT USED TO BE

I got fully vaccinated, went with family to Cocoa Beach, Florida, in late July, went to one Braves baseball game, and one Georgia football game.

Dan Seligman, Atlanta

EAST COAST, WEST COAST

On March 5, 2021, at noon I was sitting in my pickup truck waiting out the 20 minutes after just having my COVID shot. While I sat there I got a phone call from my niece Casey Copeland, who lives in San Diego, and she said she had time to call me because she was sitting in her car waiting for the 20 minutes after having her COVID shot.

Vicki Van Der Hoek, Morrow

Virginia Pasquarelli and her husband Joe participated in vaccine trials.

Credit: Courtesy of Virginia Pasquarelli

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Credit: Courtesy of Virginia Pasquarelli

MAKING A DIFFERENCE

In 2020, my daughter volunteered to be one of the first 45 or so people in the U.S. to get vaccinated against COVID by participating in phase one of the Moderna vaccine trial at Emory. My husband and I joined phase three of the trial a few months later, in the summer of 2020. The three of us have remained in the trials, filling out weekly e-diaries, doing monthly follow-up calls with a nurse and making occasional trips to Emory to get shots, have physicals and have blood taken.

We had no idea when we joined the trials in 2020, just how long this would all go on, or how imperative this vaccine would become in the fight against the spread of COVID. As we left 2020 behind, all exclaiming, “What a year,” as if there would never be another one like it, we jumped on a 2021 roller coaster ride that brought our hopes high as the number of cases dropped, only to unexpectedly propel us to the bottom again as omicron arrived and spread wildly. 2021 was longer and tougher than I had expected. I’m tired of COVID affecting every aspect of our lives. And I’ve never liked roller coasters.

Being in the vaccine trial in 2020 and, especially in 2021 as the very contagious omicron has become the dominant variant, has given the three of us the feeling that we are not totally helpless. I know the blood we’ve given and the diaries we’ve carefully filled out have helped to produce the vaccine that is saving lives by decreasing the incidence of serious illness and death. We’ve had the placebo shots; we’ve had the two shots of the vaccine; we’ve been boosted. We’ve given our blood; we’ve tried to make a difference.

— Virginia Pasquarelli, Roswell