Monday, June 8, 2020

What we learned about us in the pandemic

Will more Americans vacation outdoors after the pandemic?

In the halcyon days that were the middle of the last decade, my Corridor Urbanism co-founder Ben Kaplan did a series of what he called Urbanist Goodreads... annotated bibliographies of writing on a particular topic. I am shamelessly stealing this format as a way of starting to sort through the vast array of writing on how the pandemic will affect the future of cities. Today's topic: the future of social life.

People relate to each other in all sorts of ways, of course, but social life is shaped by technology as well as law. The third places of yore whose loss Ray Oldenburg lamented (The Great Good Place [Paragon House, 1989]) were done in by interstate highways, single-use zoning, and big houses with prodigious home entertainment systems, among other things, even before the advent of social media. The sudden shutdown of regular life in March made people aware of patterns in their lives they might previously have taken for granted. If you're not commuting, going to sports events or performing arts events, going to church, hanging out in bars and coffeehouses, or attending meetings, you might suddenly feel the loss of a valued activity at the same time you feel liberated from other things.

In Iowa, we seem to be over the pandemic, even though the pandemic is not yet through with us. Liz Martin of the Gazette took a picture of a packed Lake MacBride beach last week. Precautions, schmecautions--wherever I go I'm in a minority wearing a mask, if not indeed the only one. But we have had two and a half months of restrictions, though nothing on the scale of the Northeastern U.S. I have missed coffeehouses. Though I can take out coffee, or make my own, there's nothing like sitting with a book or a friend while staff and customers do their things around you. I miss the performing arts, though--surprisingly for a lifelong Cubs fan--not sports so much. (The Cubs are on the downswing, though. Maybe I'd feel differently if I rooted for the White Sox or Cardinals.) I don't miss multiple nights out at meetings where people wanted me to do stuff. 

I think I've learned I should be frequenting more coffeehouses and performing arts events, and spending less time at sports arenas and meetings. Hey, we all need to contribute to the commonweal, but as Oscar Wilde said about socialism, "The trouble is it takes up all your free evenings." I've enjoyed my suddenly free evenings, and maybe I can defend some more of them once the lid comes off.

What will people rush back to after the pandemic? (Bars and beaches are definitely on Iowa's collective list.) What will they leave alone? How will new public health regulations or city design affect our choices?

Laura Bliss and Jessica Lee Martin, "Your Maps of Life Under Lockdown," City Lab, 15 April 2020

A huge collection of reader maps of their lives in the shadow of the pandemic. Readers report and depict greater awareness of nature, micro-level details of a built landscape constrained by lockdowns, and... better relations with neighbors. I hope they don't lose these when normal life returns.

Michael Wilson, "These Are the Things That New Yorkers Achingly Miss," New York Times, 9 May 2020

Various responses to this question add up to a city. Some major landmarks are included, as well as personal activities like working out at a gym or yoga studio, but there are also the signs of other, often unknown people that have been so abruptly removed: on the street, on the subway, on the ferry, at the hair salon, in line at the food cart. It is from these interactions that a city is built, and in time will be rebuilt.

Rebecca Renner, "Kids Are Having Pandemic Dreams Too," National Geographic, 11 May 2020

Children, like adults, are having lurid nightmares inspired by the pandemic and the resulting quarantine, which have brought "anxiety, loneliness, and lack of sleep." Will the nightmares, and the anxiety, persist? Psychologist Deirdre Bennett suggests some ways of inspiring "mastery" dreams of overcoming the dread.


What do you do if you are out of something and a trip to the store is suddenly unappealing (or precluded by finances)? You borrow from neighbors, just like the old days, except there are now apps to help you make the connection. Of course, who knows where that toy or jar of peanut butter has been, but, Cotroneo figures, a book borrowed from a neighbor, rather than a public library, is probably a safer bet, having been passed around by fewer problematic hands. 

Sarah Lazarovic, "Circle Back to This Email," Minimum Viable Planet, 14 May 2020

Among other observations in this always pithy and uplifting weekly from Canada, she notes that the waste stream, already stressed by the loss of market for recycled materials, is getting swamped by excess packaging: COVID-19 fears mean everything now comes in a plastic bag inside a cardboard box inside a Hazmat suit. I suspect this feature will stick around for awhile, figuring that incentives to package goods "safely" will outweigh incentives not to stuff landfills.

Katherine Martinko, "What Will Post-Pandemic Travel Look Like?" Tree Hugger, 11 May 2020

The "urge to travel is hardwired into many humans," but the pandemic experience is likely to shift our modes and destinations outdoors and away from crowds. Expect more camping, canoe trips, skiing, fishing, and the like, along with usage of parks and wilderness areas. People are likely to shift from air to auto travel, and from hotels to home-sharing like Airbnb. She explains: While some people may be grossed out at the thought of staying in a private home where they don't know who's been there before... you're surrounded by fewer people than if you're in a hotel or resort, which means fewer germs. Speaking of hotels, another Tree Hugger post suggests they'll redesign to look and feel cleaner: less stuff in the rooms and more white (Alter 2020). 


As many houses of worship, including mine, agonize over whether and when to return to in-person services, and some others push back against public health regulations, a United Methodist pastor asks which styles of worship are likely to endure in a post-pandemic world? Theater-style megachurches have the advantage of encouraging impersonality, albeit in crowds. Praise bands are safer to restart than traditional choirs or congregational hymn singing. But more conservative churches are playing a dangerous game restarting before it's safe: While mainline churches may have a problem with a difficulty to worship in the traditional ways, conservative evangelical churches will get their people killed [emphasis his], or at least lose credibility when they prioritize inflexible worship over sensible congregational care, informed by public health. [BN adds: A generation ago, I would have said that more evangelical and pentecostal churches would have the advantage of intensity i.e. a lot of traditional worshipers just won't return when services restart. I'm not sure that advantage is still true, however.]

I miss informal gathering at coffeehouses
(here, the Early Bird, which managed the best-timed
going-out-of-business ever in early March 2020)

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