Quiz #38. Suspended
April 26, 2020, Steve's Stay-at-Home Coronavirus Quiz
Our first granddaughter Turner was born on October 5, 2017. It was an historic moment for us and Turner’s parents, Ted and Erica, that I of course noted in that year’s holiday quiz.
Turner, born on October 5, 2017
It was also an historic moment for the world which I also noted in the quiz. On October 5, 2017, the New York Times published the ground-breaking story from Jodi Kantor and Megan Twohey on Harvey Weinstein which launched the #MeToo movement, ending years of silence--and the careers of countless abusers.
On the morning of October 5, 2017, President Trump fired off a tweet, questioning the credibility and standards of a news report that I had worked on in my job. (The story had to do with Rex Tillerson’s assessment of Mr. Trump’s intellectual acumen.)
We would not find out until a few weeks later, but on October 5, 2017, George Papadopoulos signed the first cooperation agreement with Robert Mueller’s team that was investigating the President and possible collusion with Russia.
A lot of history in one day.
And so it is with the coronavirus pandemic.
This morning, thanks to the Reliable Sources newsletter from Brian Stelter and Oliver Darcy, I read “An Oral History of the Day Everything Changed” put together by Garret Graff for Wired.
It’s a must-read. Graff traces the events of that day through the memories of 30 people who were a part of it.
But on that Wednesday, the World Health Organization, which had only begun referring to the virus as Covid-19 a month earlier, declared the disease a global pandemic. Every hour seemed to bring major new developments: On Wall Street, after days of huge up-and-down gyrations, the Dow Jones Industrial Average fell 1,465 points and officially entered bear territory; Capitol Hill faced its first confirmed Covid-19 case; the NCAA announced it would play its basketball tournament without fans; and then, in rapid-fire succession that evening, President Trump gave an Oval Office address, announcing a travel ban from Europe, the NBA suspended its season after player Rudy Gobert tested positive for the virus, and Tom Hanks and his wife, Rita, posted on Instagram that they too had been diagnosed while in Australia and were recuperating.
By Thursday, the national landscape had been undeniably altered, and Americans were panic-buying toilet paper. A whole new vocabulary—WFH, PPE, flattening the curve, social distancing, self-isolation, Zoom-bombing, and quarantines—loomed ahead. Epochal events that had occurred just weeks earlier, from the Australian wildfires to President Trump’s impeachment trial to the drama of the Democratic primary, would seem instead to have occurred years ago.
What’s fascinating about Graf’s oral history is how it captures those Wednesday evening moments as the tipping point for the nation--and most importantly for its people. The week started out one person at a time, maybe one couple or one family—then one business, one institution and then another. By Thursday, it became—or was becoming—one decision. Stay at home.
Within the interviews, different people talk about the vague concerns they’d had about coronavirus at just the beginning of that week, many of those concerns most loudly spoken by worried spouses and partners. Concerns the people interviewed had dismissed--or thought would never come to bear. An author cancelling a book tour? At the beginning of the week, cancelling seemed like an overreaction. By the end of the week, it was the venues cancelling the tour dates.
Looking back, the same thing happened for me and Sara. At the beginning of that week, on Monday, March 9th, she talked with her staff about making sure that everyone had access to Office 365 so they could work from home if needed. No one really took her seriously—until the end of the week.
That Monday, March 9th was also my last day in the office, my last day commuting into New York City. When I stopped going into the office on Tuesday, March 10th, it felt temporary. The over-zealous worries of a man who realized that at age 63 he was in the high-risk group for a disease especially hard on “the elderly.” By the next week, Monday, March 16th, everyone who could had begun to work from home.
I was working from home on Wednesday night, March 11th. It was a lot to take in and cover for a news organization. Looking back at my emails, the thing that stands out is my attempt to make sure people in my news organization did not overstate the announcement from the NBA. The NBA had not cancelled the season. The season was suspended.
Six weeks later, as near as I can tell, we’re no closer to moving from suspended to cancelled--and no closer to moving from suspended to “Game on!” Clearly, that’s what is so hard about this period of time. Everyone knows we need to reopen the country, but collectively, no one knows how--and, most important, individually, no one knows what to do. For those of us lucky enough to have jobs where we can work from home, so far, we’ve known what to do: stay at home.
And yet, what’s next? It’s unclear how any of us will navigate what’s next--collectively or individually. If there’s no more WFH, will I commute? Go out? Shop? Each of my decisions--and each of yours--will have broad implications for countless businesses--small and large.
Last Thursday, the NFL held its draft as a live, televised virtual event. In Quiz #36. Promises, Promises, I wrote about how, for me, the draft represented the promise of a NFL season.
At this point, without a vaccine, it’s hard—really hard—to see how we get to the point where there are actual NFL games in September. Televised games in near-empty stadiums with a few fans maintaining socially distance (not 6 feet apart, but for football, 2 yards between them)?
Ted, my son, texted me the next morning.
Mark my words there will be football played in 2020. There won’t be fans but the nfl will figure it out. Too much money for them not to figure it. That’s a Ted Thode promise.
I still don’t see it--and for me, it goes back to March 11th. That afternoon, the NCAA announced that March Madness games would be held without fans. Everyone could still watch on TV. But then came Wednesday evening--and word that an NBA player had tested positive for coronavirus.
At that moment, the NBA—and the nation—realized that it was not just about the fans. Games featured players, real-life human beings who could get--and spread--a communicable disease. Without a vaccine, it’s hard for me to see how any sports organization gets its players together to play against one another--especially in close quarters like a football game with huddles, blocks and tackles.
For these last six weeks, TV news reporters and anchors have conducted most interviews using virtual connections over video conferencing tools like Skype, Zoom or FaceTime. As they have ventured outside the studio (which. in many cases, remains an office in their home), there’s a reason those anchors and reporters maintain a social distance of six feet with anyone they interview. Saturday Night Live was on the air last night for the second time during the pandemic--its performers all still physically separated. Even in small groups, it’s just not safe for people to be together in the same place.
Ted says I’m “stuck in the now” and argues that with 15-minute testing and sequestered players playing at regional stadiums, NFL games will go on.
And yet, even with testing and no fans, what happens when the first NFL player tests positive several weeks into training camp? Does the NFL quarantine the team, its players and any member of the media present for the last 2 weeks at any fan-closed workouts?
Once the season starts, say it's Week 3, again even with "closed" games played before no fans in regional stadiums, what happens when a star player tests positive? Do they quarantine all teams that played against the star player's team in Weeks 1-2? Support staff? TV crews? Stadium crews? And if there is a quarantine, what happens in Weeks 4-5 or any game going forward that might be played without quarantined players?
For now, I feel like we’re all just suspended in this moment--and it takes time for moments in history to end.
Graff notes that at 11:06 AM on the morning of March 11, 2020, Harvey Weinstein was sentenced to jail. It was the end of a long legal saga that dated back to October 5, 2017.
What did not happen?
A. Susan, my sister, emailed me to let me know that “for what it’s worth,” she liked the format on Substack where you can get the answers right away. Google Forms, which she used at work, made her weary;
B. Ginny, my sister, approved the mention of her story in Quiz #37. “Don’t Be Cruel.” In our conversation on the phone noted, she that I’d made several typos in previous quizzes. They’ve since been corrected;
C. In Quiz #37, I told how I’d used different stamps on envelopes to rate the people who’d get holiday quizzes from us. A co-worker emailed me to confess, “I do the stamp thing too;”
D. A friend of Sara’s who is a big fan of the holiday quiz saw my post on the stamps used for the quiz in 2015. She kept the old quizzes in their envelopes and reported that she was disappointed to learn that she’d only gotten a Rudolph stamp;
E. A former coworker emailed me to reveal that she, too, had entered a “fake birthday” with Facebook when she’d first signed up at the insistence of a news director who wanted his staff to use Facebook connect with the audience.
Want the answer?
Answer #38. Suspended, April 26, 2020
If you’re a subscriber, the answer will be sent to you as a separate email when the question is published.
Want more?
Here’s the next quiz in the series: #39. Short and Sweet.
Here’s the previous quiz in the series: #37. “Don’t Be Cruel.”
Here’s the first quiz in the series: Quiz #1. Stella and Social Distancing, March 13, 2020
Here is an archive of all the quizzes.
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