Pictured above: This picture from Spring 2016 shows a bird’s-eye view from atop a crane sitting where the new residence hall is being built. Courtesy of Ronny Howell
By Katlynn Mullins
I was in Target a few days ago, edging my way down the baking aisle when an older lady waved me down to ask where the napkins were.
I tensed up when I saw she was less than six feet away. I wanted to reach for the hand sanitizer I had stashed in my bag.
But I pointed her in the right direction, not having the heart to tell her there wouldn’t be any.
Five minutes later, we crossed each other’s paths and she started waving her handkerchief at me.
“There’s no more napkins!!”
She sounded agitated, but there was a smile on her face.
The last few weeks have been confusing, to say the least.
We’ve all been attempting to keep up — to wrap our heads around what’s happening while stuck in self-isolation.
One month ago, “pandemic” was a word I never thought I’d write. Now, we’re living through a time students are going to learn about in history classes.
It’s a shock to everyone involved. It feels post-apocalyptic. College commencements are being postponed, restaurants are closing and publications are keeping running lists of all the major events that have been canceled.
Nobody knows if we’re doing too much or too little.
My social media feeds have shown me mixtures of the public praising reporters, criticizing them and, at times, berating them.
I’ve seen these journalists working to get information and opinions; working to write about closures and cancelations; working to figure out school and housing issues; trying their best to weave a basket without knowing its true size.
I’ve heard newspapers referred to as the “first draft of history” more times than I can count. It’s a favorite among journalism professors, and it rings true now more than ever.
Staying informed should be a top priority. Answers can act as a metaphorical security blanket in times of need.
But I have some questions.
When do we stop? When do we take a step back from our screens and stop waiting for more information to come? Are we supposed to constantly refresh our Twitter feeds, waiting for some semblance of hope? Will it even come anytime soon?
Should I have sprayed that nice lady with hand sanitizer while yelling at her to practice social distancing?
My answer is: We have to choose.
New York Times opinion writer Charlie Warzel wrote about a group of over a dozen rafters that left on a 25-day trip through the Grand Canyon, only to come back to a pandemic with a toilet paper shortage.
One of the rafters was confused about why toilet paper was the hottest commodity.
“What does a toilet paper shortage mean? Why are they out of toilet paper?”
“For the rest of us who’ve followed the news of the pandemic as it’s swept across the globe, the experience is like tracking a hurricane and bracing for landfall,” Warzel wrote in the same story. “There’s a feeling of powerlessness accompanied by anxiety that ratchets up day by day.”
But this isn’t a hurricane. There are other precautions to take that don’t involve buying Target’s entire stock of toilet paper and napkins.
I know, I’m a student reporter. I should be encouraging the spread of information, not telling you to stop — but, please, don’t be confused. I’d never tell anyone to stop reading the news.
Katie Hawkins-Gaar, a journalism consultant and freelance writer, writes a weekly newsletter called My Sweet Dumb Brain. This week’s was titled “Control what you can.”
“We can hate the situation we’re in while also being open to the things it teaches us,” she wrote. “That’s where growth happens.”
We cannot know if hope will come. We can be mad and choose to scream at our screens for the struggle this pandemic has brought — the grief that has, and will continue to result from it.
Or, we can choose to look away and create our own hope.
In the movie “Frozen 2,” there’s a mantra Princess Anna adopts.
“When one can see no future, all one can do is the next right thing.”
People around the world have been doing exactly that, and the New York Times has documented a few of the stories.
In light of college commencements being postponed, Wellesley students hosted a “fauxmencement,” or an impromptu, unofficial graduation.
Italians sang, strummed and even banged pots and pans from their windows during the country-wide lockdown.
A tweet containing a video of two people playing tennis from their upper level windows has even surfaced.
Ultimately, you have to decide what that next right thing is, but I’ll give you a hint: breathe. Create hope.
I am not saying you should remain uninformed.
What I am saying is, don’t become caught up in the things you can’t control — bogged down by the negative.
Reporters — my fellow editors and friends — have been making a valiant effort to keep everyone up-to-date. There have been layoffs and cutbacks in so many industries, including journalism.
It’s terrifying. It feels like a giant rug is being pulled from everyone’s feet — and there’s almost nothing we can do to prevent it except wash our hands.
But at some point, it has to be OK to care for yourself. You have to remember that, while there is an entire world suffering, you matter too. There are board games to be won and books to be read.
There are meals waiting to be cooked and, inevitably, a kitchen waiting to be cleaned.
You can still go outside, just carefully. You can wave to neighbors from a distance, and smile at whoever you walk by.
All we can do is the next right thing.
All we can do is continue striving and hope it leads to thriving.
Even if that means putting down our phones for a few hours a day and remembering that there was life before this pandemic, and there will be life after.
It may look different than before, but eventually, we will recover.
