Something is Different

Yesterday, I read a newspaper article stating school has gone back to normal four years after the COVID-19 pandemic. It made the point this was the first year that educators and administrators did not discuss things like social isolation protocols when planning their year.

All day long, I couldn’t get it out of my head that four years had passed since the “invisible enemy” upended life as we once knew it.

Like other parents, COVID profoundly impacted my own children’s education. My oldest was going into Kindergarten in 2020. Understanding how important school is, not just for academics, but for its socialization impact, my wife and I were unwilling to let our son miss out on in-person schooling. More, we were unwilling to let either of our boys miss out on their childhood. (My youngest boy was only 2 when the world shut down.)

Consequently, we sold our beautiful home and moved to a freer state. Am I happy with this choice? Yes, I feel we did the right thing.

Four years after the pandemic, life has largely gone back to normal. But even as recently as 2022, draconian restrictions were still in place in California, restrictions that would have prevented my boys from having a normal childhood.

Do I have regrets?

I do. Recently, I returned to California on a family trip. My family and I went back to the very same park where I used to take my boys daily to play. Back in spring of 2020, it was one of the only places we could go. Tears filled my eyes as I thought about what they missed out on in their childhood, especially the fact they no longer live within a few minutes’ drive of their grandparents who love them so much.

As you can tell, this is a very different type of article than I normally write for Substack. I usually weigh in on international matters, things like the WHO Pandemic Treaty and surveillance capitalism.

Today, I decided to write about something more personal.

Despite the fact I routinely discuss alarming news items, all along I have tried to take a positive approach to our challenging times. As a journalist, it’s not enough to report facts. It’s necessary to connect the dots in a narrative fashion supported by a throughline.

My intention for that throughline all along has always been optimism. Admittedly, more than one of my articles came across as darker than I intended. Perhaps that’s because we face unprecedented problems that routinely challenge me to retain my optimism. That’s not an acceptable excuse. I can do better in expressing my vision for a life that’s brighter and better. Especially for our children.

This brings me to today.

Four years after the pandemic—four years after shutdowns and school closures—four years after social distancing and the collapse of so many businesses—I am hopeful. Just this week, my oldest boy entered the 4^th grade. My youngest began kindergarten. Like the rest of their generation, they grew up in COVID’s shadow. They remember the fear. They remember the masks. They remember a world undone by grownups struggling to do their best as reality seemed to come apart at the seams.

Four years later, I hope I did right by them.

I hope I did right by family members, by my neighbors, by my country. When so many others were operating out of terrible fear, I hope I did something to make our world better. I really hope I didn’t make the problem worse.

That’s for God to decide.

For now, I want to say one last thing. I feel something. Maybe you do too. Things feel different four years after COVID. Optimism in the air. Silver is penetrating so many dark clouds.

Four years after the pandemic, I want to believe people have changed. Not for the worse, but for the better. I want to believe we have woken up. I want to believe whatever life throws at us next we are ready to face it. I want to believe we have grown. I want to believe we are better people, stronger people for what we have gone through.

In the year 2024, here’s to optimism in the face of so many challenges.

Especially, here’s to our children four years later.