The Longest Year Ever: Looking Back at What We Lost and What We Found in 2020
In late February 2020, I was on vacation in Hawaii. As I was driving around the Big Island in a rental car, I kept hearing updates about a virus spreading across the world.
I didn’t ignore the dispatches on NPR, but it didn’t seem like something that was going to affect me or my life. I felt relatively safe from harm.
However, each report seemed to amp up the concern. When I got to the airport for my flight home, the airport was buzzing with whispers, and I could sense a growing tension. I may have even seen a few people starting to wear masks.
A few weeks later, back home in Wisconsin, things escalated quickly. There were more and more news reports.
And then, of all things, a decision by the NBA triggered a cascade of change. After Rudy Gobert of the Utah Jazz tested positive for COVID-19 on March 11, the NBA season was abruptly suspended.
Once the NBA made the emphatic decision, other major sports leagues followed suit, and soon after, businesses and schools began to close as well. It felt like everything started shutting down in rapid succession, one after another.
My employer at the time made the decision over the course of a weekend to shut down the office and convert to remote work. When I went home on Friday, I had no idea I wouldn’t be back to my office for many months. I was conscripted to help “flatten the curve” and isolate in my small studio apartment with my dog.
Gov. Tony Evers’ administration issued a 'stay-at-home' order for Wisconsin on March 25 with the intent to stay in place until April 24. Many non-essential businesses closed, restrictions on gatherings were implemented, and daily life changed across the country.
I’ll admit I was worried when the pandemic started to take hold. It was hard to grasp how things would change and just how bad it might get. Every day seemed to bring new restrictions, new health advisories, and an increasing sense of isolation. This pace of change in such a short period made everything feel much more chaotic, especially because it was happening globally.
Five years later, I don’t know how often people think about the pandemic era anymore. For the most part, I feel like people have found their way through and have no desire to look back. In a lot of ways, it feels like we’re just over it. It feels like people just want to leave the masks and everything else in the past.
I can understand that. In my opinion, 2020 was the longest year to ever exist. It was a journey for me and so many people.
For a while during those early days, I just buried myself in work because, well, what else was there? Everything was closed, and Netflix only takes you so far. As the weeks started to pass, I began to burn out. I began to realize that this constant grind of work and no play wasn’t sustainable.
Like many people, I tried to embrace nature more. I started spending more time outside, walking my dog. Fresh air went a long way when everything else in life felt so sterile. It was also comforting that nature didn’t stop. The trees grew their leaves, birds flew, and flowers bloomed.
While being outside was comforting, it was also a little weird in the spring of 2020. You could turn on the news and hear all the chaos unfolding in the world, but outside, there was an eerie calm in contrast. I’d walk my dog through the neighborhood, and even though there were still people around, it felt like I was an astronaut floating in space, utterly alone in my bubble.
After the initial shock of it all, when people tried to just get on with their lives, socially-distanced and with masks on, that’s when I think we started to feel losses. People lost their physical and mental health. People missed out on experiences, connections, and time with each other. It took a toll in ways seen and unseen.
While I was able to keep in touch with some of my closer pals through virtual happy hours on Zoom, I lost touch with many people in my extended orbit. With each passing week, I felt more distance from my extended community of old work friends, acquaintances, and friends of friends. Sadly, it's easy for people like this to disappear from your life if you don’t see them at least once in a while.
Beyond the personal, we also lost other small pieces of our communities—such as the places we frequented. We saw many restaurants close forever.
My favorite pizza place didn’t make it. But even the establishments that did make it often were not the same afterwards. One of my favorite appetizers for years at the Brass Ring in Madison disappeared when they pared down their menu likely due to pandemic factors (R.I.P. Irish Nachos).
Few bars, restaurants, and other businesses around me remain open past 9 or 10 p.m. these days, even on weekends. As someone who will enjoy a late-night drink on occassion it is disappointing.
The pandemic stripping away these joys was a harsh way to be reminded that you can’t take anything for granted.
So, yes, I understand why some people don’t feel the need to reflect on the pandemic on this fifth anniversary. But I do want to say, with great humility, that my life is, on the whole, better for having gone through 2020 and the subsequent upheaval.
I know this wasn’t the case for everyone, and I can’t ignore the fact that so many people faced extreme hardship during this time. However, the shutdown gave me more time with my dog, allowed me to reflect on how I wanted to live, and put my priorities into sharper focus. It was an opportunity for a simpler, quieter life that I didn’t realize I needed until it happened.
Looking at how society shifted because of the pandemic, I see a lot of positive changes. We started to realize what really mattered. We stopped putting up with the small stuff—the social obligations, the office attire we didn’t need, and the routines that didn’t serve us. We started prioritizing time with family and friends. It was like we all took a collective breath and agreed that we didn’t have to be who we were before.
In the end, the pandemic wasn’t just a time of loss. It was also a time of clarity.
I hope that, for everyone, there’s a bit of that clarity that remains. We’ve all been through something that changed us. With all that we went through and with all that we lost, it would be a shame to forget what we gained.
CRAIG SAUER is a writer, communicator and former journalist living in Fitchburg, Wis. He is amused by the expression: “May you be cursed to live in interesting times.”
