Dirty looks. Depressed motions. Drizzling rain. It’s the epitome of an entire year of fear, anxiety, and lost hope. It’s my recent trip to The Pacific Northwest.
Seattle has a reputation for raindrops falling on our heads, strangers sleeping on cardboard boxes, and the occasional, “Is that Macklemore?” spotting. This experience was far from the norm. In 2017, I lived with my brother in a condo across the Puget Sound from Seattle. I experienced “the good months.” Sunshine. No wind. No bugs. I knew that my personality wouldn’t be able to handle the dreary weather from September to May complimenting my strong refusal to buy new windshield wipers. Just stay to the left of the white line, right? Anyways, it’s now 2021, a year into a healthcare pandemic, and on immediate arrival, I wanted to go home. I was warned, “It’s a different world out there” but much like most of my life, I didn’t listen. I heard the cautions of mask mandates, low capacity EVERYWHERE, and minimal social interactions but I did not listen to them. For anyone who knows me well, I charge my batteries by interacting with others or “shooting the sh**” as my uncle says. Out here, there is no chatting over the weather with the coffee barista or exchange of smiles on the sidewalks. It’s mid-level torture for extroverts.
We don’t know what we have until it’s gone.
The fresh taste of sushi. The smell of ocean air. The COVID Queen of South Dakota. If you haven’t read the Rolling Stone article or the Keloland highlights on a recent write-up of South Dakota’s Governor, Kristi Noem, I suggest glossing it over. As South Dakotans, we pride ourselves on being self-sufficient, determined and hardworking, at least I do. That’s what it means to be a South Dakotan. “We’re from the country and we like it that way.” – Tracy Byrd. However, most of the world finds us careless (also guilty as charged) and now, I understand why. We don’t wear masks. We don’t socially distance. We haven’t stopped living our lives. It is careless. It is extremely selfish to not “mask-up” when going to the grocery store, to visit your elders, or in my case, bartend at the local country club. Even if you don’t believe in masks, being the better person and taking the precautions either way harms nobody, physically. Maybe your ego but that’s a different topic. And I’m guilty. I’m confident enough to make that statement because I am guilty of the careless whispers (S/O to George Michaels) that South Dakota is irresponsible. I hate wearing a mask. It ruins my makeup, it covers my smile, it amplifies my already hard of hearing. But do I love my grandmas enough to wear a mask when visiting? Yes. Do I respect Dollar General for taking a stand as a brand in a controversial debate? Yes. Do I applaud every city folk who has been trapped inside their homes for months fearing the great outdoors? Yes, because I could never do it. I know what it’s like on that other side of irresponsibility and it’s far too fun to let go. I truthfully didn’t know what I had in my home state, until it was gone.
Contrary to my statements above, this trip is not a lost cause. In fact, it’s revealed a type of privilege I never recognized I had. In journalism, we learn to identify our fault lines to present information with little bias and boy, did I find the whole San Andreas fault. After this adventure, I will act purposefully because time on this Earth is limited. I will devote more respect to my upbringing. I will stay true to living in the uncomfortable because I’ve realized, once again, that “getting lost will help you find yourself.”
Life is short. Pandemics are not. Buy a one way ticket. You’ll learn a lot.
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