Contact list an abbreviated diary of the waves of the pandemic

By Willie S. Morrissey Last updated Jan 14, 2022

The contact list started out as a way to keep track of my contacts, for tracing purposes.

I started it in November 2020, when Manitoba first moved to code red on the provincial pandemic response system (it would remain there until the end of June 2021). I pulled out my phone, opened the Notes app, and typed everyone I saw in the weeks of Nov 8-14 and Nov 15-21, 2020?? a two-week interval or an incubation period. I used the mask emoji to indicate if I was masked while interacting (cute, right?) and listed the people in the order I saw them.

Jen’s list for January.

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Jen’s list for January.

Photojournalist Mikaela MacKenzie and I traveled to Portage la Prairie to report on residential schools that first week. I see I also got a flu shot and picked up a mobile order from Starbucks. That’s it.

The week after has only one entry: ??Friday work, distanced, emoji mask.??

I really never intended to save these entries for more than a month at a time, mainly to know who I should tell in case I got COVID-19. (Actually, that’s probably not the whole reason: lists tend to create a sense of order and control where none exists.)

But I never deleted them. I kept adding dutifully to my note. And now, at the end of 2021, I have a complete document of everywhere I’ve been and everyone I’ve seen in 2021, except my husband, who is part of my household.

It’s OK if you think, ??Wow, that’s…intense?? because I agree. But my contact list has become a weird little pandemic diary?? and, one day, a strange little pandemic artifact.

I cling to it for the stories it tells: the privilege I’ve had to work from home and live in relative isolation when I needed it. The second wave, the third wave, the fourth wave. Restrictions and reopenings and more restrictions. The fact that I didn’t start this process until November; everyone says 2020 is the worst, but 2021 was the real pandemic year, at least here in Winnipeg. Birthdays celebrated on the doorstep, or not celebrated at all. The entire weeks during which I saw only my husband. The people I saw. The people I haven’t seen.

Week of January 3 to 9, 2021: NONE. Week of January 10-16: Dad, less than five minutes, emoji mask. Week of January 17 to 23: NONE.

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<p>Jen’s list for a June party.</p>
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<p>Jen’s list for a June party.</p>
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<p>My year in contacts is also, of course, my year in walks. Before vaccines, was it safer to spend time with people outside your household?? alias your friends?? outside. And so, we walked. And when we couldn’t do that, we zoomed in. </p>
<p>One of the hardest things about this hellish time was not being able to see my friends. My friendships are extremely important to me, and spending time?? in person ?? along with the coterie of strong, funny, thoughtful women I’m grateful to have in my life, that’s what fills my cup like nothing else. To quote Mindy Lahiri from <em>The Mindy Project</em>: ??A best friend is not a person, it is a level.?? </p>
<p>Sure, we stayed in touch through existential dread-filled text channels, group chats, and pandemic memes, but I missed doing things like running errands or watching a show in silence. Hanging out during a pandemic is a bit like a planned meeting consumed by catch-up business?? or, more specifically, life and anxieties updates for a tight 90. There’s less room for the intimacy that happens when you can really hang out. </p>
<p>And, as writer Amanda Mull noted in the <em>Atlantic</em> earlier this year the pandemic completely wiped out other levels of friendship?? specifically our ??weak ties,?? a sociological term used to describe acquaintances, friends of friends, situational friends that you only see in certain settings, such as at the gym, at shows, or in the office. The people you might wish happy birthday to on Facebook, but wouldn’t help move. </p>
<p>Or, to put it another way, people you are friendly with, but not exactly friends with. </p>
<p>Naturally, my contact list is devoid of weak links, which I only see on social media. When I met people briefly?? usually, on what else, a walk?? when the world opened up slightly, I held them hostage because they were someone different to talk to. </p>
<p>When we were really staying home, I found myself craving, like, friendly interaction with a barista. All kinds of ??contacts?? for a full life. </p>
<p>In May, stricter restrictions were imposed, and my entries reflect this. There was a week in which my only outside contact was my next door neighbor (remotely, outside). As the jabs took up arms and the restrictions loosened in the summer, my closest friends?? names started appearing more frequently on my list. I felt intense relief?? seeing them was like medicine, like coming home. To that end, a pandemic silver lining: one of my oldest friends has returned to Winnipeg, temporarily, with her husband and new daughter. I’ve spent more time with her in the past year and a half than in a decade. But it’s also true that I’ve seen more of my virtual fitness instructors this year than I’ve seen, well, anyone. </p>
<p><em>Week of June 13 to 19: C (outside), E + T (terrace), my parents; week of June 20 to 26: the lake; second vaccination appointment, mask emoji, syringe emoji. Confetti emoji.</em> </p>
<p>• • • </p>
<p>I like to follow things until I don’t. </p>
<p>??Contacts?? isn’t that the only list that lives in the Notes app on my phone. I also recorded the number of books I read over the year and, lately, the amount of wine I drank. (I need to do one of those things more and the other less.) I have a smartwatch that tracks everything from the steps I’ve taken to my heart rate and my menstrual cycle. </p>
<p>I love data like this because it can be helpful in showing patterns in behavior and areas for improvement. But I can also get a little bit obsessed. </p>
<p>Several years ago I wrote about breaking up with my Fitbit because it felt like a bully on the wrist, only to replace it with a watch that performs the same function this year. The difference now, however, is my brain. If I don’t respect my number of steps, for example, I don’t sweat. As much, anyway. I am less about this life of effort than before. </p>
<p>Yet in the darkest days of the pre-vaccine second wave?? when the public health edict was ?? is it now time to stay home?? ?? I realized I was trying to get as close to Contact Zero as possible, like it was my inbox. </p>
<p>Having too many contacts back then was like having too many glasses of wine while you were trying not to; something felt vaguely shameful and irresponsible about it, especially when confronted with a registry in your phone. It really is a journey to think about the people you love in this way, even if a lot of it is about protecting them. </p>
<p>The list brought back some of those Fitbit feelings. Turns out you can be perfectionist about anything, even staying home. </p>
<p>To the outsider, the note in my phone looks like a string of names and dates. But that’s not what I see. I see quality over quantity. I see long walks, which have quickly become my favorite way to spend time with someone. I see a friend’s birthday celebration and candlelight. I see my oldest friend hugging for the first time ever. I see summer nights spent on patios and in backyards. I see the dinners my best friend cooked for me when we were together?? together ?? (remember this rule?). I see laugh till I cry with my best friend from work. I see holding a friend in mourning, finally. </p>
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Before a new variant enters the scene to reorganize our lives once again, I thought of concluding this exercise. (In a bit of symmetry, Mikaela and I hit the road on a different mission almost a year to the day.)

I had become less diligent about it and besides, I can type ??Home Depot, emoji mask?? isn’t that really ??contact tracing.?? But it looks like my Contacts note could come in handy again, in the face of what will be a tough January.

Like all datasets, this one shows me useful information. Who’s included and who’s not and who do I really need to reach out to. What I took for granted. Who got me through this pandemic and who I still miss a lot.

No matter how I look at it, I’m grateful.

jen.zoratti@winnipegfreepress.com

Twitter: @JenZoratti

Contact list an abbreviated diary of the waves of the pandemic

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