Dear Diary
Covid journalers toolbox. Photo courtesy of the author.
It was the evening of December 28th. I brewed myself a cup of tea, sat down at the kitchen table and opened my journal. It was a tradition for me, sometime in the week between Christmas and New Year’s, to flip through the pages of my journal, revisit the old year and bid farewell to it.
The practice of keeping a journal started with a gift many Christmases ago. That particular year, when the gift opening was finished, and the living room was filled with wrapping paper, part of my loot was a five-year diary from my Uncle Allan and Aunt Jean. Everyone has seen the kind, with a tiny lock, a tiny key and four or five lines allotted to each day.
I took it all very seriously and sat down on January 1st with the little red book to chronicle my eleven-year-old life. My first entries were less than fascinating. I recorded the TV shows that I watched, the marks that I got on tests and even the scores I bowled at the Saturday morning league. Slowly I realized that my diary could contain facts, like TV shows and grades, but it could also contain my feelings. I could gush about the Monkees and how Davy Jones was the cutest guy ever. I could talk not only about my grades but also how envious my friend Bev was of them.
By the time I had filled the first five-year diary, I was sixteen and the diary-keeping habit was well established. After I finished my second five-year diary, I switched to a pretty little notebook. Some days were too big for five lines; they needed more space and more words to describe them. Other days needed only a couple of words. In a notebook, I could give the day as much or as little space as it needed. I started to refer to the notebook as my journal; it sounded more adult than ‘diary’. I have continued the practice, more or less faithfully, until the present day.
A collection of journals. Photo courtesy of the author.
So what had happened in 2020? The entries told the tale plainly.
March 16 – As one of the IT guys commented, this is about to get real. COVID. They’re closing everything – the churches, the schools, the libraries, all the stores except those that offer essential services (groceries, drugs).
March 24 – Regina Transit is still running, though on a reduced schedule. I board the bus through the rear door (fares are waived at the moment) and call ‘hello’ to the driver who has much of the front section blocked off.
April 14 – How quickly you can adjust to a new reality, like scanning your employee pass to get into the building. We’ve had to lock the building to the public; the street people were coming in and giving the commissionaires a hard time.
May 28 – Haircut at long last! Todd was all togged out in mask, shield and special apron, and there was an extra three-dollar surcharge for all the COVID supplies, but I didn’t care. I was so tired of sweeping my bangs out of my eyes.
A familiar message from 2020. Photo courtesy of the author.
May 30 – Went shopping with Barb at Michaels and Penningtons. You have to sanitize your hands, follow the arrows, respect the store limit of x people at a time, but you can shop again!
May 31 – Pentecost Sunday and the church is having masses again with a limit of ten people. With the Archbishop and Fr. Dan concelebrating, and two people for the livestreaming of the mass, that leaves room for only six parishioners.
June 20 – Today I was able to pick up my holds from the library, eight of them in all. They scan your card through the window, pull your holds and place them in a bag on a table outside the library. After the librarian has stepped away, you can step up to the table and claim your stuff. Yay, new books to read!
June 21 – 9:00 mass. Now we are allowed thirty people per mass.
June 24 - Supper at Trifon’s with Barb and Marlene. I don’t think I’ve seen Marlene since lockdown. It was a great visit and a great evening; it felt like a little bit of normal, going out for supper.
July 1 – Not much of a Canada Day. There was nothing on at Wascana Park or Government House; there weren’t even fireworks.
Mask. Photo courtesy of the author.
August 2 – 9:00 mass. Masses are up to 150 people now; the Cathedral can easily accommodate that many people, and still respect the social distancing guidelines. Sections of the church are roped off; masks are necessary; the sign of peace is a wave.
August 6 – The morning bus is getting busier and busier. Today the bus was at its ten-person limit and the driver had to start rejecting people at the Santa Maria. I’m lucky that I get on at the beginning of the run.
August 8 – Ran to the library. The library has so many rules: return books only at the book drop (they have to be sanitized); enter only here; use hand sanitizer; wear a mask; exit only here. They can have a hundred rules, and I won’t mind. I’m just so happy that they’re open again.
September 10 – Today I noticed Jo using the big blue plastic bowl to mix up her salad. I remember buying that bowl at Dollarama, opening a bag of chips and putting them on the treats table. COVID has taken away so many things, big things like air travel and the summer music festivals, but little things, too, like the office treats table and office potlucks.
October 4 – I was walking past the one care home today. A couple of people were there with their lawn chairs pulled up to the fence and their loved ones sitting on the patio, visiting. COVID has forced us all to be resourceful.
A collection of protective face masks. Photo courtesy of the author.
October 21 – You know that masks are becoming a fashion accessory when Dean Renwick opens a pop-up shop in the Cornwall Centre.
October 31 – Incredibly windy day. Not a good day for trick-or-treaters, even if there weren’t COVID considerations. Some people have been incredibly creative and have rigged up ‘candy cannons’ to deliver the treats safely.
November 5 – New restrictions have come into effect, and masks are required in all indoor spaces. The second wave, and the variants, are hitting us hard.
November 16 – The Christmas tree is up already in the Cornwall Centre. I think it’s rushing the season a bit, but I suppose we need some fun after this hellish year.
November 25 – New restrictions by the provincial government. They’re cut churches back to thirty people per service again.
December 16 – Today was the virtual office Christmas party, via Webex. The Social Committee did their best to make it fun, but I couldn’t help longing for the potluck and table games of last year.
I closed my journal with a sigh. 2020 had been the strangest year I’d ever seen. COVID had presented a great challenge, but we had met that challenge with determination and creativity. If we carried that spirit into the year ahead, and added a vaccine to our arsenal, we would defeat anything that lay ahead in 2021.
Marion Young.
MARION YOUNG was born and raised in Regina, Saskatchewan, and has lived there most of her life. A job with the federal government keeps food on the table and a roof over her head. In her free time, she pursues more creative interests, like writing, photography and volunteering. She has over 200 published poems to her credit; many of them have appeared in Folklore.
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