Betty Pittman "taught half of Charlottesville," says her daughter Cookie.
For decades, Betty Pittman was a U.S. history teacher at Lane and Charlottesville high schools. “My mother taught half of Charlottesville,” says her daughter, Cookie Ferrier. But when Pittman was dying, of pancreatic cancer, no one was allowed to visit.
While the casualties from COVID-19 continue to mount, the virus is changing even the way those who aren’t infected are experiencing death, says Ron Cottrell, CEO of Hospice of the Piedmont. The hospice guides patients and their loved ones through death and mourning, and now they’re helping Ferrier’s family through a journey that has taken on unexpected contours.
Because of coronavirus precautions, Ferrier’s father, who lives in a nursing home, wasn’t able to leave to be with his wife when she died. And Ferrier was able to make only a brief visit to him—negotiated by the hospice—on the day of her mom’s death.
“I couldn’t touch him,” Ferrier says. “I couldn’t hug him… He wasn’t able to be present with my mom in her passing.”
Hospice of the Piedmont, which provides pain relief and emotional support for patients with a terminal diagnosis, regularly serves around 300 patients at a time. Except for 10 ICU beds and eight beds in their downtown hospice house, all of that care is delivered in the patients’ places of residence. That delivery of service is complicated by the stay-at-home situation. Cottrell says the organization has been doing as much business as possible online.
“We’re trying to stay connected with the patients and the families via Zoom,” Cottrell says. “We can have very good conversations. That doesn’t replace the physical visits, but [physical visits] are less frequent.”
Ferrier feels that the hospice team “went above and beyond” to keep her and her mother as calm as possible, even as a global pandemic broke out.
“They didn’t stop and they didn’t spread the fear either,” says Ferrier. “They taught us how to maneuver the journey during this crisis.”
Hospice workers taught Ferrier practical skills, like how to properly wear masks and sanitize. But they also taught her what to expect after her mother’s death.
“They got me ready for mourning in isolation,” Ferrier says.
Teresa Haase is the director of bereavement and supportive care services at the hospice—her team works with patients’ family members for up to a year after death. But everything they do—individual counseling, group therapy sessions, youth grief camps—has been moved to telephone.
“In some ways, [the virus] is exacerbating grief,” Haase says. “We’re wired for connection and relationship. Mourning goes better when we can mourn with others, and when others can witness and walk with us in our grief.”
Certainly, Ferrier has mourned her mother in a way that’s not typical for her family. “We’re United Methodists, and one thing that Methodists are known for is casseroles,” says Ferrier. “Casseroles and potlucks. So one of the things that my church does, when someone passes, is we cook for you. We bring food to you.”
There are no potlucks in the age of social distancing—so Ferrier has looked inward, instead. And she’s found solace.
“I’m Cherokee Indian,” she says. “My ancestors were Native Americans. And the Native American way for the elderly was to walk off by themselves and pass. It doesn’t mean your loved one was not loved by you, if you’re not present when they pass.”
She’s also clung closer to those who are still here. Ferrier still can’t be with her father, but, she says, “I can FaceTime him. And I make sure whenever I do that I’m always saying, ‘Daddy I love you.’ And he goes, ‘I love you too.’ I never let a moment pass that I don’t tell him.”
Haase, the bereavement counselor, is a professional when it comes to talking about death—something we’re all doing a little more often now, as we brace ourselves for each day’s bad news. She advises that everyone follow Ferrier’s lead.
“We’re all experiencing loss at so many different levels,” Haase says, “not to mention this awareness of death. What is important is that we take stock of what is important in our lives—we love the people that are around us, we tell them that, we make amends when [we] can.”
The virus crisis has offered a striking reminder that life is short and unpredictable.
“When I started here, what I learned, there are these five things to say before someone dies,” says Haase. “They are: thank you, please forgive me, I forgive you, I love you, and goodbye. And I thought they were so profound. What if we did that every day? It would be so profound.”
Lizzie Clark and her Hot Yoga Charlottesville team put a twist on virtual yoga by offering healthy recipes to practitioners.
Hot at home:As many forms of exercise migrated to online instruction, most local studios flowed seamlessly into virtual class offerings. Hot Yoga Charlottesville instructors are posting a variety of classes for all skill levels, and making them accessible on a free YouTube channel (donations not required, but greatly appreciated). BYO heat, and if you sign up for HYC’s email list, you’ll get recipes for tasty eats made with simple ingredients that will support a healthy quarantine.
On April 7, two young men were shot at by an unknown assailant at the South Fork Rivanna Reservoir near Woodburn Road. PC: SanjaySuchak
On the morning of April 7, a local 20-year-old college student and his 18-year-old cousin woke up early, excited for a day of fishing on the South Fork Rivanna Reservoir. By 9 am, they were on the water in their kayaks, waiting to see who would make the first catch of the day.
Shortly before 10 they heard gunshots. They couldn’t tell which direction they were coming from, but they were shocked when the second shot landed in the water about 30 to 40 yards away from their kayaks.
“We just figured this hunter was not seeing us,” says the college student, who for privacy reasons asked that we not use his or his cousin’s names. But “the next one got even closer. That’s when we realized we needed to start getting to shore.”
As the young men frantically paddled toward the riverbank, the shooter fired about a dozen more times in their direction, one shot landing five or six feet away from the college student’s kayak. He and his cousin reached dry land , and immediately took cover in the woods to the right of the boat ramp and called the police to report an active shooter.
“We figured [the shooting] was coming from somewhere along the loading dock, near our car,” he says. “When we called the cops, we realized that the shooter stopped. We didn’t hear anything, so we figured we had a chance to get the kayaks in the car immediately and just to leave.”
A single Albemarle County police officer arrived around the time they finished packing up their kayaks. After talking with the officer for a few minutes, the young men noticed some movement across the water, near a black fence located on Millers Cottage Road.
“We saw this guy running down a hill in all black. He was like a ninja almost…he started from one end of the black fence to the other side,” the college student says. “He was full-on sprinting, but it looked effortless. Like he was trained.”
“We told the cop, ‘Look, there he is!’ And before we even realized it, [the person] was gone,” he adds. “I think he was trying…to get to an area where he could get a better read on us.”
Gunshots started flying again, forcing all three men to take cover. As soon as the shooting stopped, the young men immediately jumped in their car and booked it home.
The police officer called the college student later that day, and told him that more shots were fired after he and his cousin left, one of them going right over the officer’s head and striking the tree behind him. The officer said he did not see the shooter, or where he went, the college student says.
Multiple officers immediately conducted a 90-minute search of the area, according to an April 7 press release, but were unable to determine the source of the shooting, or collect any evidence. However, the high schooler and his father performed their own search the following day, and claimed they found four nine millimeter cases “10 steps into a trail,” where they believe the shooter fired toward the young men and the responding officer. The casings have since been turned over to the ACPD.
Bad weather was forecast for that evening, so the young men and their families urged the police to bring trained dogs immediately to the area, because the rain could wash away gunpowder, as well as any fingerprints left on gun casings. The college student says the police did not bring a dog to the scene until two days after the shooting, when it had already rained twice.
“It was pretty worthless to even have a K-9 come out at that point,” says the college student.
“I don’t think it’s necessarily fair to bash the cops, just because I don’t know all that goes on,” he adds. But “the reason they didn’t clear out the reservoir is beyond me…or even put out an alert [saying there’s] a possible shooting at Rivanna River.”
In response to C-VILLE’s questions, ACPD declined to comment, citing an ongoing investigation. But in an April 17 press release, the department stated that “strong evidence was collected to show that the two individuals in kayaks were not being shot at, nor targeted” and that “evidence shows there is no public threat.” The release did not specify what that evidence was.
Police said they are continuing to investigate “the individual that fired the weapon.” Anyone with information related to the incident is encouraged to call CrimeStoppers at 977-4000 or email CrimeStoppers@albemarle.org.
Updated 4/16 and 4/20 with additional information.
It’s been about a month now since Governor Northam closed Virginia’s schools (initially for only two weeks) and suggested we all stay home. Many of us have done so, carving out offices in the basement or at the kitchen table, finding the gallery view button on Zoom, and attempting to create a rhythm to days that seem endless as the borders between home, work, and school have disappeared. It may be chaotic, or tedious, but it’s safe.
A lot of people, however, don’t have the luxury of working remotely. From the doctors, nurses, and paramedics caring for those who are infected, to the cleaners, mechanics, and cafeteria employees keeping our hospitals running smoothly, locals are stepping up and potentially putting themselves at risk to help keep the rest of us safe. Outside of hospitals, too, there’s an army of workers still showing up to supply our community with essential services, from grocery store employees to bus drivers, food pantry workers to homeless shelter staff. In this issue, we talked to nine of them to see how their jobs have changed, what they’re worried about, and how they cope.
Also in this issue, we’re continuing to cover some of the more mundane aspects of life at home, from how to make a doctor’s appointment (when you don’t have COVID-19), to how you can still support local shops and restaurants, and even what to do about your hair. It’s going to be a long spring. As paramedic Erik Bailey told us, “take care of each other the best you can.”
In "The Daily Creature," artist Joe Vena leads his audience through 30-minute art project tutorials that feature fun facts and stories about one animal per day.
Wild things:We know your kids are restless, and the interactive fun of the Through the Looking Glass exhibit at IX is temporarily closed, but The Daily Creaturestreaming series is a hit with art- lovers and animal-lovers alike. Artist Joe Vena leads his audience through 30-minute art project tutorials that feature fun facts and stories about one animal per day. In a recent episode, Vena implored, “Don’t get bored, get cardboard,” as he launched into a lesson on how to make your own easy-to-care-for cat.
Fernando Garay, a master barber, instructor, and owner of House of Cuts Barber Studio, stands outside of his shop, which is closed due to the COVID-19 pandemic. Cutting hair isn’t just about style, he says. It’s about taking care of people. Photo by Eric Kelley
You’ve thought about it. Looked in the bathroom mirror and considered the scissors in the drawer. Caught your reflection in a car window and wondered if you still have those clippers. Picked up a bowl and contemplated whether those ’90s cuts were all that bad.
Per Governor Ralph Northam’s orders, barber shops and salons are closed as part of social distancing measures, and barbers and stylists are out of work. You trust them with shears, razors, and all manner of chemicals close to your face (not to mention your personal secrets), so trust them when they advise against cutting your own hair.
Hair says a lot about a person. “If you look good, you feel good,” says Sarah Hatch, master stylist, educator, and owner of Ederra Salon. “And when people are feeling less than good,” like many are right now, “they want instant gratification, to have it done, to feel better.” She understands why people might be tempted to do their own hair, especially if they’re attending work meetings via Zoom.
But Hatch says there are risks to playing salon, particularly in regards to chemical treatments like perms, straighteners, and dyes. One wrong move and you could have a lot less hair to care for.
And when it comes to the cut, well, that’s complicated, too. “Hair cutting is geometry,” says Hatch. No two people have the same head of hair, and so stylists and barbers spend years learning that craft. “Face shapes and other shapes come into play, and if you have any kind of whorls or cowlicks or spins in your hair, you could think you’re cutting half an inch off, but next thing you know, it’s two inches shorter. There’s such a small margin for error, I wouldn’t recommend it.”
“I can only imagine there will be hair horror stories from people trying to DIY stuff,” agrees Destinee Wright, a stylist specializing in black hair care who runs Luxie Hair Services. “It’s a pandemic. You don’t gotta be cute for a pandemic!”
Destinee Wright of Luxie Hair Services is offering online tutorials for her clients so that they can learn to braid and take care of their own hair during the pandemic. Photo courtesy of subject
But if you must, there are ways to do it, like watching YouTube tutorials for up-dos, or using bobby pins, headbands, and wraps to mix things up. “Get it poppin’ with cute little hair clips. Maybe order some from a small business,” says Wright. “For a lot of natural folks, some of us have dreams of having these big, luxurious afros. [Maybe] now’s the time to let it grow. Just do your research first.”
Wright agrees that hairstyle is tied into self-care, so she’s hosting online braiding tutorials—complete with counseling on technique, products, and tools—for existing clients and anyone else who wants to tune in.
Fernando Garay, master barber, licensed instructor, and owner of House of Cuts Barber Studio, misses his shop and his people. He’s created a space where his clients, many of whom are young black and Latinx men, can gather and relax, be themselves, and either choose to shoot the shit or have deeper conversations about life’s ups and downs.
Cutting hair is about more than “keeping the community fresh,” says Garay. It’s about taking care of people, and he’s found that “people take care of you if you take care of them.” One of Garay’s clients has continued to pay for his weekly cuts, even though the shop’s closed.
“I’ve been there for people’s funerals, I’ve been there for people’s weddings, graduations, all kinds of stuff, even just the everyday ‘need to get clean,’” says Garay. And he’s as committed as ever to supporting his clients: “If I’m not cutting hair, I’m not getting my hair cut,” he says, laughing. “We’re in this together.”
Allison Kirkner, nurse practitioner at UVA. Photo: John Robinson
While most of us are staying home, some locals are still heading to work, to keep essential services running. Here are nine of their stories, in their own words.
Allison Kirkner
Lead nurse practitioner and manager, cardiothoracic ICU at UVA Hospital
As told to Erin O’Hare
Every single day is a different day. It would be totally fascinating were it not terrifying.
We work 12-hour shifts in our ICU, cover 24/7, and typically take care of patients who’ve had heart and lung surgeries.
Surgeons like to operate, but, three, four weeks ago, my surgeons made the decision to stop what we’re calling “electives.”
Because the volume is down, I’m asking for volunteers from my team to send to the COVID unit. Six or seven advanced providers, including myself, volunteered to either go on our regularly scheduled shifts or pick up extra ones. We’ve been doing that for about three weeks now. It’s been nice to shift our resources to help our colleagues.
There are a lot of conversations at UVA and elsewhere about who should be taking care of these patients and who shouldn’t be. I have pretty severe asthma, but I feel like everybody has something going on. I have been so impressed by my colleagues who have stepped up and said “I’ll do this part,” or “I’ll do that part.” This is a team sport.
I’m from southwestern Virginia and this is the hospital my parents would come to if they were very, very sick. You do it to take care of your patients and your community and lend whatever expertise you have toward patient care. I’m not a corny person—I’m actually a very sarcastic person—but, one thing I always talk about is that I’m solely motivated by patient care, and that’s really, really hard and frustrating in this. We’ve definitely been hamstrung by the federal government and by slower responses. I’m pretty impressed with UVA’s response overall. There are areas where we wish we could go back in time [and make adjustments] that would help us now. We’ve also been blessed with time, because our wave hasn’t hit yet, unlike New Orleans or New York. We have a little more time to prepare.
Something I’ve learned dealing with critically ill patients who have bad outcomes and do die sometimes, is to let myself wallow when I need to. I have days where I know I’m not going to get anything done, and I let myself be sad. We need to take the time to know what our bodies are saying to us, and to grieve not just specific patients but normal life. I’m also trying to stay working out on my water rower, and spending time with my husband, who’s a school teacher. And also wine.
Photo: Zack Wajsgras
Laura DeLapp
Shift supervisor at The Haven;
intake coordinator at PACEM
As told to Laura Longhine
The Haven is a day shelter. Before, we were open to anyone in need, including those who were housed. They would sign their names on the sign-in sheet and then go about their day. Now, we are no longer able to serve the housed community. We are now greeting people outside of the door, we are temperature checking, we are asking specific questions about health. We did have two that we had to turn away—one had left New York just last week, and another who had just left Maryland.
Once they are inside those doors they have to sanitize their hands, and we’re sanitizing the building, all surfaces, every hour.
There’s very few of us working inside the building, because most of the guests we have are extremely vulnerable. We’re communicating with the other staff either on Zoom or phone calls or emails.
We’re still interacting with the guests, but now it’s a lot different because you know we have to maintain that space. We actually put a piece of tape down by the front counter, and everybody’s covered in masks anytime they’re in the shelter.
The atmosphere is a lot quieter. I think a lot of [our guests] are concerned. I put one of the computers on the news every morning so they can keep up with everything that’s going on. It’s almost a totally different place right now.
For overnight shelter, PACEM is housing the women in The Haven, and we are housing the men at Key Rec Center. All the beds were spaced six feet apart.
As far as getting infected, I don’t have any concerns. Because a lot of the guests we have currently, I’ve been dealing with over a year now. I’m familiar with most of them, their health concerns. I sort of worry more going to the grocery store than I do at The Haven.
I’m always in a mask. I keep hand sanitizer in my vehicle, in my jacket pocket, anywhere that I can fit hand sanitizer I typically have it. And I’m making sure that myself and the guests are continually washing our hands, not touching faces, that sort of thing.
Exercise is a big stress release for me, because I have kids, I have five at home. My fiancé kind of maintains the household when I’m here.
I’ve got a good support system: I’m from a large family, and the majority of us are essential workers. So we talk a lot.
Staff photo
Jane Colony Mills
Executive director of Loaves & Fishes
Food Pantry
As told to Brielle Entzminger
In our normal operations, people come into the pantry and sit at a registration desk, they sign on a signature pad that’s been touched by multiple hands, and they grab a grocery cart and pick out their food. We also use 160 volunteers a week.
So when the epidemic began, we realized pretty quickly that we were going to have to completely redo how we do things. We had to ask our volunteers to stay home, to reduce the chance for exposure.
Now, instead of letting people shop, our staff organizes and bags the food, and puts it into grocery carts, wearing masks and gloves, so it’s ready to go when people pull into the parking lot. We’re still doing a face-to-face registration, but it’s with a clipboard—I’m the one doing that, with a mask and gloves on, and we’ve seen at least a 20 percent increase in people coming in.
Our staff push a grocery cart to a car, and the people receiving the food put it into the car themselves. Staff then sanitize the cart with Lysol before loading it up with bags again.
Trying to keep a distance between myself and the people who come in is pretty hard, because a lot of engines are running. You’re trying to get information from six feet away, and I can’t necessarily hear what people are saying. We’ve also seen a huge uptick in Spanish-speaking households coming for help, so I’ve recruited my daughter, who speaks Spanish, to help with that, along with one of our volunteers.
I think our greatest fear as a staff is that one of us is going to infect one of our clients. We’ve had some of our older clients and ill clients come to get food, and it’s so worrying. But they have no other way of getting food. The whole thing about infecting our families scares us too. I take off everything I’ve worn to work and put it immediately in the laundry. The gloves are thrown away, and the mask also goes into the laundry.
We’re all just trying to get back to our normal, as normal as we can be. I love to cook, so with my daughter and husband home, I’m making dinner all the time, and they are too. While I’m jealous that I’m not actually getting to stay home, the concept is great, because it’s making us appreciate each other more.
Staff photo
Modou Secka
Cashier at Oak Hill Market & Deli
As told to Carol Diggs
I have been working here for five years, and I have never seen anything like this. We want to stay open for our customers, so I am very careful to wipe everything down and to keep things clean. And we have the rules about distance, the tape on the floor. For us working here, they’ve given us masks, hand sanitizer, gloves, and wipes. I use the spray sanitizer on the glass doors too, that’s why they don’t look so clean as they do with Windex. And the plastic screen for the checkout counter will be coming in later this week.
We’re not open as much—only from 10am to 9pm now, it used to be 7am to 11pm. But we have nice customers, they understand. When they come, and they see cars parked outside, they look in first and make sure there won’t be more than 10 people inside. If a family comes, some of them may stay outside.
Many customers do come in for groceries, because they can get in and get out quick, and they don’t want to go to the big stores. And we have a great deal right now on soda.
I have to make sure I’m careful when I go home, too. When I get home, I change all my clothes and wash them, wash my hands too.
Photo: John Robertson
John Anderson
Driver for JAUNT
As told to Brielle Entzminger
Before the epidemic, it was just the everyday hustle and bustle. People felt free to use JAUNT, and ridership was pretty steady. Now, there’s a lot less riders. I drive on the same route, but it’s been cut short. I work less hours, since there’s not as much of a demand for drivers. We aren’t charging fares at this time. Every driver has to wear masks and gloves, and sanitize their bus several times a day—the seats, walls, rails, essentially everything that people touch.
Because I’m not going into the JAUNT office and socializing with my co-workers like usual, it can also be a bit isolating. When I go to work, I see the other drivers in the parking lot and make small talk for a little while, but we have to keep our distance from each other.
As for the passengers, I’ve haven’t seen that many people wearing masks and gloves, but they’ve been practicing social distancing and sitting far away from each other. We’ve also been picking up a lot of health care providers from the main facilities and transporting them. However, I feel pretty safe and at ease, because they can’t enter their facilities without being screened for virus [symptoms].
I try to stay safe and distant from everyone. But still having to go places, both for work and outside of work, it can be scary.
I’ve been sleeping a lot more than usual, because my hours are a little bit different. I don’t have to go into work as early as I normally do. I try not to look at the news as much, and really try to stay away from it, because most of it is bad news. And outside of work, I’ve been staying home and trying to stay safe. It seems like it’s going to be a long time before it gets better, but I’m just hanging in there, and trying not to let it get to me. That’s all you can do.
Photo courtesy subject
Erik Bailey
Paramedic for Charlottesville Fire Department
As told to Erin O’Hare
Before, you’d wear a mask if someone had the flu, or another confirmed illness. Now we wear one always. I’m a lot more vigilant than I used to be, because of how insidious the virus is and how it’s spread: You have to assume everyone has the virus and be good about your PPE usage.
I work on the ambulance, in addition to the fire engine, directly involved in patient care and transport, so, if I’m within six feet of a patient, I’m wearing eye protection, a surgical mask, gloves, and a gown. And the patient wears a surgical mask, too.
The N-95 mask shortage has been all over the news. We’re wearing N-95s when we’re doing an aerosolizing procedure, which can produce airborne [virus] particles, such as intubation, doing CPAP, CPR, things like that, we’re wearing N-95s and the plastic visors, as well as gowns.
You talk to any health care provider, what they’re concerned about is, are you staying safe and healthy? Is your family staying safe and healthy? Are your co-workers staying safe and healthy? Because this is a quietly spreading virus, you’re worried you’re taking it home to your kids, your wife, your husband, anyone else. You see across the country all these fire departments with large portions of their staff being quarantined due to exposure. That’s my biggest concern: I’d feel bad spreading it to other people. My parents are both in their 60s, living in northern Virginia, which is a hot spot right now, so I’m concerned about them, definitely talking on the phone with them more than I used to. And the PPE shortages. Any provider is concerned about having the PPE that they need. We’ve been fortunate to have it so far.
I cope by trying to learn as much as I can about what other departments, providers, and health systems are doing. But I have to pull back when I can, and focus on other stuff. My wife and I just bought a house, so we’ve been doing a lot of DIY projects. I’ll take my bike out on remote roads. A lot of streaming. Trying to read, eat well, rest, stay active. Oh, and I’ve recently joined the legions of people baking bread.
[Medics] are kinda going through what everyone else is going through, making adjustments, trying to be more careful. I’d just say, take care of each other the best you can.
Staff photo
Terrell Mellen
Pharmacist at Top Notch Pharmacy
As told to Ben Hitchcock
It’s really important for people to realize that, even though there’s a pandemic, they should still be prioritizing their health—which means getting their regular medications on time, and efficiently.
It’s been easy for us to come to work. I know a lot of essential workers are kind of nervous about that, but we know our patients by name, know them really well. It makes us want to come to work, to still provide their medications for them. Just letting them know to remember to take care of themselves at a time like this.
We’re still open normal hours, offering all the services we normally do to our patients. We’re not letting people in the store, we’re doing curbside pickup and home delivery only. We can also mail prescriptions. The only thing we’re not currently doing is immunizations, to protect the patients.
We haven’t had a huge problem getting in any medications at this time. The only one that we’re having to limit some supply of is the hydroxychloroquine. [Demand for hydroxychloroquine skyrocketed after President Trump tweeted that the drug was a “game changer” in the fight against the virus; he was referring to a French study that has since been discredited.]
We got in as much as we could. It’s normally used for patients with chronic conditions like lupus. It also can be used as an anti-malarial drug. We’re prioritizing dispensing it to patients who have been on it long-term, and need it for their chronic conditions.
We’re trying to keep business here as normal as possible—still taking days off to decompress from it, though. [My go-to] is gardening and house projects, these days. And mountain biking, too.
Everybody has been, honestly, so kind and generous these past couple weeks. A patient today dropped off Bodo’s, just because. I think everybody’s trying to take care of each other.
Photo: Zack Wajsgras
Lester Jackson
Elevator assistant mechanic at UVA
As told to Erin O’Hare
All of the elevators I work on are hospital, medical research, or medical related. Doing my job, you could lose your life, but it’s more likely from accidents like a long fall or getting caught up in machinery. But now there’s a heightened sense of, you could lose your life and possibly usher in the death of family members, too. If I get this thing, I could bring it home. The threat is there. Not every moment of my time, or even the majority of it, is spent working around hospital elevators associated with the pandemic, but when something needs to be done [there], we play a major part in it.
There are a few elevators at the hospital side that have to work at all times: the helicopter elevator, elevators that are dealing with this pandemic. There’s no getting around it.
We have to wear face masks at UVA, period. But when going specifically to the hospital elevators used for patients who have the virus, I have to wear a Tyvek full bodysuit with a hood. It covers my boots and everything. I wear a surgical mask, an N-95 mask, a splash shield, latex gloves.
It’s hard to feel completely safe. Whenever you have to put on that amount of gear, you may feel physically safe, but mentally, it wears on you. The more stuff you put on, the worse you tend to feel emotionally. Every day when I get home, I take all of my clothes off and put them in a bag outside of my house—my shoes, my socks, my shirt, my pants, everything. My neighbors are getting a free show! It is what it is. I have a bucket of water and soap outside, and I wash my hands and my beard. As soon as I get into the house, I get right into the first shower downstairs before I do anything else.
I’m trying to do what I can to keep my family safe. Trying to keep any exposure that I could possibly have to a minimum.
I’m making a lot of music, though, trying to stay creative. Working on a lot of projects, a Nathaniel Star love album, Eros, up next. I’m spending time with my children, my family. I take my mom groceries. She has everything she needs, but I can’t hug her. She can’t hug her grandchildren. That’s been hard.
You just find yourself saying, every day: “This is crazy. This is crazy.” I don’t even know what else to say. That’s on repeat.
Cooper Halley
Lyft driver
As told to Carol Diggs
I wasn’t too concerned about this virus at first; it seemed like it was mostly overseas, not here. But when the president started closing down travel… I talked to my dad, he’s a pretty smart guy, and he gave me some specific tips that he knew from working for Uber. He was already taking these precautions, because he’s an older man, you know, but for me—I’m 26— it’s hard for me, like most young people, to be afraid of something I can’t see the effect of.
In a car, it’s hard to keep six feet apart. So I keep the windows cracked—unless the customer objects—to circulate air from outside. I cover every inch of my skin, and I wear gloves. I have several different bandannas. Of course I can’t find a medical mask anymore. Usually when I get home, I spray any part of the car that won’t get ruined by it. It’s funny, most of my customers aren’t taking precautions, but they expect the driver to; I think it makes them feel better. I think everyone is trying to be a little nicer to each other, perhaps because you can’t be close together, you know?
Most of my customers don’t have a car of their own. The rides I get are people going to the store for something they need, or to or from the airport. No one’s going out for entertainment.
For now, I’m feeling it out day by day. My dad has stopped driving. I’m keeping an eye on my sick-o-meter. If it gets so a majority of my rides are worrying me, I’ll stop.
The City Market To-Go offers access to the bounty of products produced at local farms including Caramont Farms popular goat cheeses.
Market upswing: Typically at this time of year we’d be emerging from our winter respite, and strolling with reusable grocery bags in hand to the Charlottesville City Market to sample food and stock up on fresh greens, sustainably raised meats, and plant starts for home gardens. While that may be out of reach for now, a new drive-through market, City Market To-Go, means we can still get ahold of locally produced staples, plus indulgences like Planet Earth Diversified’s milk thistle pesto, Caromont Farm’s truffled chevre, and Carpe Diem donuts. Order online by Thursday at 10am.
Owner Amanda Stevens says Shenanigans has seen a rise in sales of puzzles, arts and crafts, games, and outdoor toys in recent weeks. PC: Eric Kelley
In recent weeks, multiple local retailers, from Oyster House Antiques to Angelo Jewelers, have been forced to shut their doors due to Virginia’s stay-at-home order. But others are adopting contactless business models, and customers are still streaming in.
Shenanigans Toys & Games, on West Main Street, has made the transition to online shopping. Customers can peruse items on the store’s website, then place their orders online, over the phone, or through social media. To encourage people to shop locally, the store offers free delivery for Charlottesville and Albemarle County residents, and contactless curbside pick-up for all customers, says owner Amanda Stevens.
“There’s an expense to offering free delivery, and that’s something that I’m taking on in an effort to keep my customers with me [and] get by,” says Stevens. The store’s seen a rise in sales of puzzles, arts and crafts, games, and outdoor toys. Stevens also hasn’t had to lay off any employees—instead, she’s hired several more to help with deliveries.
“I’m blown away by the community support,” she says. “I’m so thankful to be a small business in Charlottesville, where people care about trying to make sure that we’re here when this is all said and done.”
Longtime sportswear staple Mincer’s, at The Shops at Stonefield and on the Corner, has also gone online, and offers free shipping for customers who spend $10 or more. For those who live within a couple hundred miles of the store, purchases generally arrive in a day, says owner Mark Mincer.
Unfortunately, the store laid off some of its staff, because business has had “a huge drop off from what we normally do,” says Mincer. The handful of people currently on staff make sure to stay in separate rooms, as they work on shipping orders, among other daily tasks. Like Shenanigans, Mincer’s has seen a big uptick in jigsaw puzzle orders, and is now sold out until next month.
“It’s not going great. It’s not going terribly. But it’s going,” says Mincer. “I think things are going to get better at some point…we are trying to get one of those PPP loans from the government to try to help pay the hourly employees, especially the one who are not able to work.”
“There’s [also] been some talk about possibly delaying the collection of sales tax, payroll tax, or income tax,” he adds. “If any of those due dates are postponed…it’ll definitely help.”
While relying mainly on website and phone orders, The Happy Cook, in Barracks Road Shopping Center, is allowing customers to make in-store purchases, but in a limited capacity.
“We are allowing ourselves to be open for intentional shopping. If people call in advance and know exactly what they’re looking for, they [can] come in, make sure that is what they want, pay, and leave, so that we aren’t having interaction with them,” says owner Monique Moshier. “We’re normally seeing…in total for a day, maybe 10 people [do this].”
For customers who don’t need to come into the store, The Happy Cook offers curbside pick-up, and free delivery for those within a 15 miles radius. It also posts no-cost daily cooking tutorials on Facebook, and streams one to two hour-long cooking classes per week with a professional chef ($20 per Zoom account).
“From a business perspective, it’s just challenging all around…the revenue is sustainably diminished from a regular day. Every transaction probably takes three to four times more work than it used to,” says Moshier. “But it really has been so encouraging to feel like the Charlottesville community is recognizing that, and is really trying to get behind [local businesses]…customers are going out of their way to be like ‘Hey, I don’t necessarily need this today, but I’m not affected by this financially, so I am buying these things because I want to support you.’”
In order for area retailers to survive this difficult time, residents need to shop local as much as possible, not just now but long after the epidemic is over, says Elizabeth Cromwell, CEO of the Charlottesville Regional Chamber of Commerce, which has been working to provide the business community with information on loans, grants, and other forms of relief.
“Everybody should look at a local organization first and see if they can fulfill your request,” says Cromwell. “And as major organizations like UVA, the city, and the county reopen in the coming months, we are certainly going to be advocating that [everyone] make a very specific effort to buy local wherever possible.”
Even when you aren’t able to get what you need from an area business, “leave a review for somewhere you have shopped with on Google, Yelp, or any social media platform,” adds Stevens. “Those reviews go such a long way.”
Correction 4/16: The original version of this story inaccurately stated that business at Shenanigans Toys & Games has been “booming.” While the store has seen a rise in sales for certain items, sales are down overall, and it is struggling with the added expenses of free delivery.
To see who’s open and what they’re offering, check out these lists from the Charlottesville Chamber of Commerce.
A congregant reacts during an Easter Sunday mass at Covenant Church on Sunday, April 12, 2020. Churches have adapted to allow patrons to listen to the services from their car radios and over loud speakers in order to continue congregating. PC: Zack Wajsgras
Creative worship in the age of corona
Pastor Harold Bare was met with an unusual scene when he stood in front of his congregation on Easter Sunday—a barrage of car horns during a Facebook-streamed drive-in service, which welcomed congregants to decorate their vehicles and watch Bare’s sermon from a parking lot.
Like every other institution in town, religious organizations have had to get creative as the novel coronavirus has radically reshaped our world. On Good Friday, Bare’s Covenant Church convened its choir over Zoom, with singers crooning into laptop microphones in rough, tinny unison.
“Fear not, God is in control,” read a sticker on the side of one car at Covenant’s Easter service. Additional stickers thanked more earthly leaders, like nurses and doctors.
Other religious groups have had to adjust in similar ways. Zoe Ziff, a UVA student, organized a Zoom Passover Seder for her friends who have been scattered across the world by the university’s closure.
“We spoke over each other and lagged, but it was beautiful to see my friends, hear their voices, and share the story of Passover together,” Ziff says. “It’s a reminder that everywhere in the world, Jewish people are retelling this story—though this year, over a webcam.”
“We’re being as careful as we know how to be,” Bare said at the beginning of his holiday sermon. Religious traditions might stretch back thousands of years, but these days, they’re Zooming along just like the rest of us.
A congregant’s car is seen decorated during an Easter Sunday mass at Covenant Church on Sunday, April 12, 2020. PC: Zack Wajsgras
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Signing day
The Virginia legislature turned in a historic session earlier this year, and as the deadline approached this week, Governor Northam put his signature on dozens of new bills. The new laws will tighten gun safety regulations, decriminalize marijuana, allow easier access to abortion, make election day a national holiday, repeal voter ID laws, allow racist monuments to be removed, and more. Northam didn’t sign everything, though—he used his power to delay the legislature’s proposed minimum wage increase by one year, citing the effects of the COVID-19 pandemic.
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Local COVID-19 case update
53 confirmed cases in Albemarle
34 confirmed cases in Charlottesville
4 deaths
Data as of 4/13/20, courtesy of Thomas Jefferson Health District
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Quote of the Week
“In Virginia, the capital of the Confederacy… in Charlottesville, the home of Thomas Jefferson… We led the charge to change the state. It’s all been worth it.”
—Former vice mayor Wes Bellamy, on the new law allowing localities to remove Confederate monuments
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In Brief
Statue status
Governor Ralph Northam has finally made it official: Charlottesville will soon be able to legally take down its Confederate monuments. The bill, which Northam signed on April 11, will go into effect July 1. The end is in sight, but the city will have to wait 60 days and hold one public hearing before the statues can be removed.
Foy joy?
Last week, state Delegate Jennifer Carroll Foy (D-Prince William) filed paperwork to run for Virginia governor in 2021. Foy is a 38-year-old former public defender who sponsored the legislation that led to Virginia’s ratification of the Equal Rights Amendment. If elected, she would become the first black female governor in United States history. Her likely Democratic primary opponents include Lieutenant Governor Justin Fairfax, an accused sex offender, and Attorney General Mark Herring, who has admitted to appearing in blackface.
(No) walk in the park
To the disappointment of Old Rag enthusiasts, the National Park Service completely shut down Shenandoah National Park April 8, per recommendation from the Virginia Department of Health. All trails—including our stretch of the famed Appalachian Trail—are now closed. Still want to explore the park? Visit its website for photo galleries, videos, webcams, and interactive features, or follow it on social media.
Win-win
Under the name Frontline Foods Charlottesville, local organizations are working with chef José Andrés’ World Central Kitchen to deliver food to health care workers, with meals supplied by area restaurants like Pearl Island Catering, Champion Hospitality Group, and Mochiko Cville. In the coming weeks, FFC plans to add more restaurants, which will be reimbursed for 100 percent of the cost of food and labor, and expand to serve other area community members.
Demanding justice
As reports of intimate partner violence increase due to coronavirus lockdowns, UVA Survivors, a student advocacy and support group, has created a petition calling for the “immediate, structural, and transformative change” of the university’s sexual violence prevention and support services. The petition demands UVA fund an external review of the Title IX office; provide survivor-created and informed education on sexual violence and consent; create a stand-alone medical unit for sexual, domestic, and interpersonal violence survivors; and move the Title IX office from O’Neill Hall (located in the middle of UVA’s ‘Frat Row’), among other demands. It has been signed by more than 100 students and student organizations.
