(This article first appeared in the March print edition of the Hendersonian.)
Make no mistake: There was nothing fun about the Covid-19 pandemic.
It was grim to learn on March 19, 2020, that Deaconess Hospital had confirmed its first positive Covid test result —a 63-year-old Henderson County woman.
Already by then, a previously healthy buddy of mine had been beset by body aches. Then came extreme fatigue and chills. By March 20, he had a fever of 101.7 degrees, was vomiting and unable to keep food down. The following day, he was wracked by coughing that, in his words, “caused extreme chest pain as if I had been hit by a bullet from a gun.”
He wound up in an Evansville hospital and tested positive for Covid-19, and though he survived, he felt the effects of Covid for many months.
It was no fun getting those drive-through Covid tests at the health department, when a nurse or technician swabbed so far up my nose that it felt like the back of my head would explode.
But at least I wasn’t among the growing number of folks who were testing positive. A second patient did on March 23; on April 4, the number jumped by another 10. The number passed 100 in late May 2020 and topped 1,000 on Oct. 8. Less than two months later, the number doubled, then doubled again two months later.
By the end of February 2023, the official tally of people in Henderson County who had tested positive for Covid stood at 17,657 (though that doesn’t include untold numbers of positive at-home tests that weren’t reported to authorities), according to the nonpartisan USAFacts.org.
It was dreadful to learn that, on April 23, 2020, the first Henderson County resident was pronounced dead because of Covid. The number who lost their lives here remained mercifully low for months. But then the deaths began to mount: Two on Oct. 9, 2020. Five on Oct. 13 and again on Oct. 21, according to USAFacts.org. Eventually, 185 deaths here would be attributed to Covid, including at least one member of our church.
It wasn’t pleasant to see schools shuttered and to have students (and teachers and parents) subjected to virtual learning, which seems to have set kids back academically to this day.
It was sad to see churches close their sanctuaries, though many quickly learned how to make worship services viewable online. Zoom, while it allowed people to meet virtually, could be pretty frustrating.
And who couldn’t sympathize with folks cut off from loved ones in nursing homes or other facilities?
There was nothing pleasurable about wearing masks in public—and the sight of a used mask discarded on a sidewalk was revolting. I regularly pick up litter. But I wasn’t touching a used face mask.
It was also discouraging to see Covid politicized, further polarizing an already badly divided nation, or to hear about two friends being called “stupid” for wearing masks at work.
Yet we didn’t lose all our humanity.
As the quarantining began, tourism director Abby Dixon and then-downtown director Lindsay Locasto got permission to paint colorful and cheerful geometric designs on the concrete pier to one of the railroad piers at the overpass on North Main Street, and they wrote inspirational messages in chalk on downtown sidewalks. Others did, too.
We didn’t completely lose our sense of humor. Early on, we ate lunch at an outdoor restaurant in Florida that offered a new cocktail: the Quarantini.
Then there was that short viral video in which a man hears a disembodied voice declaring, “Because of coronavirus, you are going to be quarantined, but you have a choice. Do you: A.) Quarantine with your wife and child, or B.) …” Without hesitation, the man answers, “B.”
And while dining out was put on hold, we didn’t abandon our local restaurants. My wife and I made a point to get carryout from locally owned restaurants as often as we could. Our restaurateurs got creative, coming up with family meals that could be ordered in advance and delivered curbside. They set up online ordering.
Marcos Nicolas of Tacoholics came up with a sort of drive-thru window in his parking lot that got used a lot during the shutdown. I’ll never forget the photo of cars waiting in line down First Street and around the corner on Water Street to pick up carryout for Cinco de Mayo in 2020.
When we picked up our countless carryout orders in 2020 and 2021, we were met with warm smiles from restaurant owners and staff. We felt a common cause to keep them in business; I think we lost only one restaurant here during the pandemic.
When vaccines and then boosters came out, we got ours as soon as possible, and we stayed healthy. When we finally did test positive in late July 2022, we had the mildest of symptoms, and recovered quickly.
None of this assuages the grief of those who lost loved ones to Covid.
But so help me, I think Henderson emerged from Covid-19 a stronger community. Not because of Covid, maybe, but despite it.
