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Magazines serving the communities of Northern Westchester
by Inside Press
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by Julia Bialek
In 2012, a Yale student named Marina Keegan wrote an incredible article that gained national attention, titled “The Opposite of Loneliness.” In it, she explored how although there isn’t an exact word for the opposite of loneliness, we can define it through a feeling, writing: “We don’t have a word for the opposite of loneliness, but if we did, I’d say that’s how I feel at Yale.” Keegan sadly lost her life in a car accident only a few days after graduating from Yale, but her words still beautifully describe what makes the school so special. So after Yale’s announcement that it would be joining many universities in closing its campus and conducting classes online in response to the coronavirus pandemic, many of my friends began sharing her article on Facebook as a way to articulate why they felt such sorrow over losing time at school. As I read and re-read her op-ed, I couldn’t help but think about why students, both at Yale and at other universities across the country, were mourning the loss of time at school. And the answer I came up with is that if being at Yale, if being at college, feels like the opposite of loneliness, then not being at school feels like the opposite of memories.
Just over a week ago, Yale bid us adieu and sent us on a generous two-week spring break. As we left campus, there was no official mention of online classes or campus closing. We were sent home during the “in-between phase”: after people began realizing that slowing the spread of the coronavirus may require bold, disruptive action, but before any actions were taken. As I prepared to go home and packed a suitcase, my roommate asked me why I wasn’t taking more of my clothing home with me, why I was leaving my favorite pillow, why I kept my books in my school desk. “It’s only two weeks,” I remember replying. “We’ll be back soon enough.” Thinking back to that moment and how much has rapidly changed since then, I feel a sadness that is hard to describe. There was no way of knowing that it was the abrupt ending to a semester for most, and the abrupt conclusion of their Yale experience for seniors. As I left campus, there was no way of knowing that those last moments were the end to my incredible first year at Yale. And unlike so many students at so many universities, we didn’t get a proper goodbye. We left for spring break fully expecting to return, but for those of us who are lucky enough to have more time there, that return won’t be until August. It’s devastating.
The global situation pertaining to the coronavirus pandemic is evolving rapidly, and it’s scary. People are losing loved ones and losing businesses. People are struggling to support their families as social distancing requires many to stay home from work. The health care system is preparing to be overwhelmed as the United States fails to heed the warnings of history, a history that took place only two weeks ago in nations like South Korea, China, and Italy. The economy is bracing for a massive recession. And – without a doubt less severe, but most pertinent to my situation – hundreds of thousands of college students were sent home to complete the remainder of the semester online. I fully acknowledge that in the grand scheme of this pandemic, having a semester at college cut short doesn’t even come close to the worst of its effects on society. Right now, people are dying and suffering, and the majority of college students will return to our campuses in the fall like we never left. However, the loss of time at school amid this uncertainty just adds to the unsettling nature of this new reality.
For many college students, their university is more than just a place of learning. Perhaps it’s the place where they finally became comfortable with who they were, or found their first love, or understood what it was like to feel safe, understood, and valued. “Going to college” implies more than just going to a physical campus to acquire knowledge; rather, going to college refers to a defined period in our lives – our ‘college years’– full of learning about the world and learning about ourselves, full of friendships and growth, full of moments and memories. We lament the loss of time at school because we lament the loss of all the memories that may have been. The season that the student athletes trained so hard for, but never got to see through. The relationships that perhaps only needed another few weeks of nurturing to become something more. The treasured time for seniors after they finish their exams but before they walk across the stage with their diplomas. The feeling of campus in the spring, when the sadness of goodbyes is balanced by the promise of possibility radiating from the rebirth of the natural world. The big events that form the unique traditions of each campus. The small moments that stay with us, that make our universities feel like home. It is the opposite of memories – those moments that were supposed to be ours but never materialized, now only existing as abstract ideas in our minds of what may have been – that we lament the most.
But we’re home now. Our college quads have been replaced by our backyards. Our lecture halls have been replaced by our living rooms (or our beds for those of us who still need to virtually attend 9 a.m. classes on Zoom). Our roommates and suitemates have been replaced by our family and pets. All of a sudden, nearly overnight, everything is different. We are living in unprecedented times, and there is no playbook for how to proceed. These next couple of months are certainly going to be strange. And for many college students, being away from school means being confronted by challenges regarding their family situation, their health, and their ability to devote time to their schoolwork and access the necessary resources to do so. But despite social distancing and being away from school, no one should feel isolated, and no one should feel alone. Now more than ever, it is all of our jobs to look after ourselves and each other, to check in with and support the people that matter to us, to make the best of these uncertain times.
So now we have a choice. We can spend these next few months contemplating what may have been and feeling sorrow over the moments that never were, or we can take this day by day, feeling grateful for the memories we’ve already made and looking forward to the ones to come. Because for those of us who are lucky enough to have found a place and a group of people who make being away from college so heartbreaking, we have a lot to be grateful for. It’s inevitable, this pandemic will take things from us – all of us. And while we cannot control the loss of what may have been, we can take this time to cherish all the wonderful things that are already ours.
When we first had our editorial meeting to plan the current issue, the coronavirus wasn’t even on our radar. The topic of spring break came up and our team was excited to tackle it from different perspectives–as parents of young children, soon-to-be empty nesters and college age kids.
Today as I write my column, 100,000 people worldwide have been infected with COVID-19. Active Facebook groups in our towns such as Armonk Parents and Chappaqua Moms are posting a host of questions… Should I cancel my spring break? Should I keep my child with asthma home from school? Where can I get Purell locally? What survivalist goods should I keep on hand? And the list goes on and on…
Just as the weather gets warmer, the last thing I want to be thinking about is how to protect my family from this. I want to be planning summer vacations. I want to be thinking about what concerts and sporting events I’ll attend in June. But we are all in a holding pattern it seems.
Working in the magazine world, one of the hardest things is keeping up with the news cycle. The news on this pandemic is changing rapidly and by the time you get this, schools may be closed (hopefully not), telecommuting may be the new normal and Purell will be sold on the black market.
This morning I listened to a BBC newscaster interview a therapist who was offering telemedicine sessions for patients quarantined. The mental anguish that this has placed on families quarantined (or not) is palpable. One parent said that while his house was stocked with canned and paper goods, the hardest part now was entertaining himself and his three little ones. They were out of ideas.
While reading this issue cover to cover admittedly shouldn’t take more than an hour, I hope you find it entertaining, a bit distracting and chock full of stories that are at the heart of your community. And if spring break is in your cards, take this magazine on the plane, the beach or by the pool. I promise there has to be at least something in here that will make you smile – whether it be sheep shearing events, student athletes giving it their all or neighbors sharing why they love living in Chappaqua.
Happy and safe spring,
by Amy Kelley
March 19, 2020, Mount Kisco, NY–On Monday, March 16, I was on deadline for the Inside Press, covering the hasty switch local restaurants were asked to make by 8 p.m. to takeout and delivery service only, as coronavirus containment measures grew in severity here in Westchester County.
It was a sad article to write, as I attempted to speak with restaurant owners and managers who were busy, worried, and upset about the impact on their employees. As a former waitress and bartender, I was worried for them too. As a longtime reporter, I knew the community needed to follow this kind of news in as close to real time as possible, so they could see the impact on their favorite establishments and possibly help mitigate it with extra patronage. Due to the time crunch, and the need for social distancing, I conducted these interviews by phone and filed the article as quickly as I could.
Later, as I was doing laundry and tidying up around my house in Mount Kisco, I started to feel a little under the weather. Nothing major, just achy, with a headache. Maybe I felt a chill. I couldn’t take my temperature because our thermometer had broken and there hasn’t been a thermometer to be found in Mount Kisco for some time now.
I put another load in the dryer and called it a day, telling my husband that I hoped I wasn’t coming down with the flu.
The next day–St. Patrick’s Day–I decided to basically stay in bed. My kids are older now, so the college students home working remotely could keep an eye on the sixth grader. I asked my daughter Regina, a freshman at Baruch College-who’s still coming to terms with the cancellation of her softball season-to throw the corned beef in the crockpot and assigned the Irish soda bread to 14-year-old Ted.
Later, I woke up from a nap with chest pain. I have a minor cardiac condition, but I didn’t want to go to the hospital unless it was absolutely necessary since all resources are needed to fight the coronavirus. Instead, I called my internist’s office at Caremount first–my doctor said I had to go in.
Pretty soon I was at Northern Westchester Hospital, where I was handed a mask at the front door, and once in back, I was quickly surrounded by people in masks, clear face shields and yellow gowns. They efficiently got my heart issue under control and swabbed up both nostrils, testing for flu and COVID-19.
I was told I’d be there at least overnight, so they could keep an eye on my cardiac activity, and I was settled in on the sixth floor in isolation, connected to a heart monitor that never showed a problem after my initial treatment.
Today, 48 hours later, I’m lying in bed at home, a 50-year-old woman on day one of a 14-day quarantine that includes my entire family of nine (yes, my husband and I have seven kids.)
My test results only came back this morning, as I was preparing to be discharged. I was shocked that they were positive. Although I have asthma, my lungs had remained resolutely clear throughout my stay, checked often by skilled and kind nurses, and I’m still breathing well right now. My temperature hasn’t been over 100 degrees and is currently normal.
A cardiologist and an internist at NWH judged me well enough to be sent home and weather out the course of this illness with my family. One of the nurses supplied me with a thermometer that had been used on me, otherwise slated for disposal, and made me enough copies of a symptom log sheet to keep track of my whole crew.
By this time, just two days after I entered NWH, six of us are feeling sub-par and are in as much isolation as we can manage, but no one seems dangerously ill. The flu is much worse than what the Kelleys are experiencing so far with COVID-19–a little coughing, aches, fatigue and headaches.
My husband and kids won’t be tested. Both the doctor at NWH and the kids’ pediatrician asked that we operate under the assumption that they have it and monitor any symptoms to make sure no one has to go to the hospital. Nat, 24, spent all day yesterday sacked out, barely moving, but today is eating pancakes and sitting up reading to pass the time. He has special needs, so he keeps talking to me from across the hall, trying to convince me that because he feels better it’s okay if he leaves the room. No dice!
My daughters aren’t too debilitated to FaceTime friends and request coffee delivery from healthy brothers (left outside a closed door, of course.)
When I was told my test was positive, I picked up my phone and checked the Shoprite app, knowing I’d need food delivered. But all the spots were taken. Yes, we’ve done some stocking up–mostly because my husband took this whole thing seriously way before I did. But nine people eat an incredible amount of food, and a 14-day quarantine is quite different than social isolation, which now seems to me a lifestyle of enviable freedom.
Thankfully, family and friends have already offered meals and checked to see what they can get me at the store. Right after I arrived home, a friend from Katonah dropped packages of disinfectant wipes in my mailbox–another friend is currently cooking for us. Many of my older sons’ friends, guys in their twenties, have been texting in, offering to pick up whatever we need.
There’s a lot we don’t know right now. Will we flatten the curve? When will our economy rebound? When can we once more mingle freely with family, friends and co-workers?
I don’t know. I wish I did. I only have a few bits of knowledge to share from my brief initial experience with COVID-19: no one in my family is very sick, so far. I’m the only one with any of the comorbidities I’ve seen mentioned in the news, and I’m well enough to write this article (lying down.) Medical professionals have assured me that they think my family will be fine, and they’ve given me the tools I need to ascertain whether we need further care.
Our local hospital is well-run and reliable. The people who work there are not only friendly and dedicated, but inspire confidence with their professionalism and expertise, and I pray the curve flattens enough not to overwhelm them.
As an aside, the hospital is also continuously customer-service oriented; I was given a mini-loaf of banana bread tied up in a bow at discharge, attached to a card that says: “From our family to yours.”
Not in 14 days, but in some weeks or months more–who knows how many–I very much hope to write the article for Inside Press about the resurgence of the local restaurant business.
Until then, everyone, from my family to yours–stay home and stay safe.
by Amy Kelley
March 17, 2020–As the governors of New York, Connecticut and New Jersey work in tandem to try to mitigate the impact of the novel coronavirus, restaurant businesses, in particular, were asked yesterday to act fast to implement changes.
Restaurants in all three states were asked to close 8 p.m. yesterday, and until further instruction, will be limited to providing food for pickup and delivery.
During this time, restaurants and bars will be allowed to sell alcohol for off-premises consumption. It is hoped that this measure will provide much-needed revenue to those establishments.
According to New Castle’s web site, Meals on Wheels will continue.
We reached several restaurant owners who moved quickly to make changes in light of all the new concerns regarding COVID-19 transmission.
Ignatio Blanco, owner of Ibiza Kitchen, located on King Street in Chappaqua, said he and his staff were working all day yesterday to transition to offering pickup and delivery options only.
“The prices will be cut in half,” Blanco said. “People are having a tough time right now.”
Bistrol 146 owner Marcello Torres said. “We’re going to do takeout, curbside pickup and I may have delivery,” he said, explaining that he’s in discussions with a current employee to see if he can start delivering food.
A couple employees had already left Bistro 146 before the new rules went into effect, Torres said. They have to care for their children who are now home from school, explained. Other staff members may be laid off.
“I don’t know what to do,” Torres said. “It’s sad for all of them.”
Bistro 146 will also suffer the loss of a lot of food that won’t be used up or last until the doors open to patrons again, Torres said. “I hope everyone knows what to do, and does it. Perhaps then we’ll be able to re-open in two weeks – I just don’t know.”
There is not yet a date for these establishments to re-open. In the meantime, Governor Andrew Cuomo has urged New Yorkers to stay home as much as they can, and when out to try to maintain a 6-foot distance from other people to halt the spread of the virus.
“It seems like it’s going to be for a while,” Blanco said.
At Winston in Mount Kisco, Manager Jimmy Branigan commented: “Well, like the rest of the nation, we are digesting something new that’s never happened to us before and doing the best we can. We want to take the proper steps to ensure our staff and guests stay healthy. We hope to get through it as quickly as possible but we understand that this is a pandemic our generation has never seen before.”
Winston is offering takeout and a promotion–a 15% discount with a purchase of $100 more for a gift card.
Large chains might be able to weather the pandemic more easily, closing to patrons for an indefinite period of time may be extremely difficult for local restaurants with individual or few locations.
Also closing: gyms and movie theaters, as well as casinos. Jacob Burns Film Center in Pleasantville already announced closure some days ago, through March 31. They will be issuing refunds to patrons who pre-purchased tickets, the web site said.
The National Small Business Association released a new poll today that shows 3 out of 4 small business owners are “very concerned” about the impact of the coronavirus on their businesses, and 49 percent have experienced decreased customer demand.
Various media outlets such as Forbes and Eater have suggested the purchase of restaurant gift cards as a way to support local restaurants during this time.
It’s also a good time to order t-shirts and other merchandise some local restaurants sell.
Blanco said he does sell gift cards, by phone or on his restaurant’s website. Torres said local residents can also purchase Bistro 146 gift cards.
As for how community members can support his business, Blanco said “Any way is a good way.”
“I hope everything comes to a good end,” Torres said.
Publisher/Editor’s Note: We will be updating this article as time permits too.
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