Cooling off in the city’s splash parks is a thing of the past, thanks to a recent announcement that all Charlottesville pools and spray grounds will be closed this summer. Photo: Ron Paris
Last Saturday, I was in Pen Park for the drive-through version of City Market—a creative adaptation to our social-distancing circumstances that, while not as good as the real thing, at least comes reasonably close. On my right, as I drove in, was Meadowcreek Golf Course, acres of open, rolling green hills marked at the edges with “no trespassing” signs noting the course was closed.
I have zero interest in golf, but the vast emptiness of the public course—where it would be far easier to social distance than in any local grocery store—seemed to drive home the absurdity of the
city’s decision to keep most of its outdoor recreation facilities closed in the name of safety. Last week, the Parks & Recreation department announced that all spray parks and pools—the places where many children survive a Virginia summer—would be closed for the season, and Albemarle County declared its swimming lakes would also be off limits.
According to the CDC, there’s no evidence the virus is transmitted through pools or water play areas, and there is some evidence to suggest that access to public pools prevents drownings elsewhere. The city’s decision seems less a careful weighing of risk and safety than a sign of a lack of imagination.
Under Governor Northam’s reopening plan, outdoor pools are allowed to open for lap swimming, and private clubs like Fry’s Spring and ACAC have already done so. It would be more difficult, but still possible, to limit crowds at the outdoor spray parks. It would take some thoughtfulness, creativity, and effort. But for kids who have been cooped up inside for months, glued to screens, unable to access playgrounds, basketball courts, or ball fields, it seems worth it.
The pandemic is far from over, and as businesses begin to (cautiously) reopen, it’s important to remember that the risks haven’t gone away, that we can’t go back to normal yet. But it’s also important to recognize that this virus will be with us for a long time, and we need to adapt—to find ways, like those drive-through markets— to meet community needs while staying safe.
The coronavirus has changed so much in our lives. One thing is our relationship to nature, which for many has proven to be a source of coping and exercise during this anxious time. Our family has been frequenting places like the Rivanna Trail and Charlotte Yancey Humphris Park. Another favorite of ours—the path along the John Warner Parkway—saw a more than four-fold increase in the number of pedestrians and cyclists this March compared to the previous March, as C-VILLE reported recently. The pandemic has shown that we need more close-to-home outdoor spaces for people to safely enjoy. And I don’t just mean “safely” in terms of social distancing. In the wake of the horrific murder of Ahmaud Arbery, a 25-year-old African American man who was shot multiple times while out for a jog, it’s clear that we as a country have work to do to make this a place where people of color can simply go outside without fearing for their lives—like I, as a white person, am privileged to do.
At this time when we’re craving more green spaces, the reality is that nature is under threat. A groundbreaking study of the human footprint in the lower 48 states found that on average every 30 seconds the United States loses a football field worth of natural area to development such as roads, housing subdivisions, and pipelines. The Trump administration is making it worse by lifting protections against drilling and mining on public lands like Bears Ears and the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge. If this continues, it’ll mean wild places equivalent to the size of South Dakota will disappear by 2050. Globally, one scientific report found that humans have “significantly altered” three-fourths of the planet’s lands and two-thirds of marine areas, which could lead to the extinction of approximately 1 million plant and animal species.
Protecting nature, however, isn’t just about saving wildlife. Nature gives people clean drinking water, clean air, healthy food supplies, and the biodiversity that is the source of so many cures in medicine. It also drives a robust outdoor recreation economy. From boating to camping to skiing, America’s outdoor economy is responsible for $778 billion in economic activity, employs 5.2 million people, and depends on access to public lands. Here in Charlottesville, we’re lucky to have independent outdoor businesses like Ragged Mountain Running Shop and Freestyle. I’m proud to have used my dollars during the pandemic to help them stay afloat when so many in their industry are hurting. A recent nationwide industry survey found that 79 percent of outdoor recreation businesses have laid off or furloughed a portion of their workforce, and 11 percent have closed entirely.
With nature and our outdoor economy collapsing, we must accelerate the pace of nature conservation. That’s why a growing number of scientists are calling for the protection of at least 30 percent of the planet’s land and ocean by 2030. The movement to protect “30 by 30” within the United States has broad support from 86 percent of voters, and the backing of former vice president Joe Biden, United States senators, representatives, and state legislators from both parties.
It’s critical that the new protections we seek yield a more equitable distribution of nature’s benefits. For too long, natural resource policy in this country has systematically harmed Indigenous peoples and communities of color, from land theft to the lack of safe, quality parks in neighborhoods predominantly populated by people of color. We can and must do better.
Reaching a 30 by 30 conservation goal will require action at all levels of government. Charlottesville, Albemarle and surrounding counties, the state of Virginia, the federal government, and everyday people all have a role to play in expanding access to nature, from local parks all the way up to national parks. We should all be asking elected officials and candidates for their plans to accelerate the pace of nature conservation in the United States.
An immediate step that can be taken on the path to 30 by 30 is for Congress to pass the Great American Outdoors Act (S. 3422). This bill would fully and permanently fund the Land and Water Conservation Fund, which has expanded national parks like Zion and invested in community parks in every single state. Locally, Ivy Creek Natural Area, Azalea Park, James River State Park, and the George Washington National Forest all received funding from the Land and Water Conservation Fund. This bill would also provide funding to address the maintenance backlog in national parks, including Shenandoah. These investments will help put people back to work in the construction and outdoor recreation industry, which is why the outdoor industry’s main trade associations are strong supporters. More than half the U.S. Senate, including Senators Mark Warner and Tim Kaine, are co-sponsors, while 118 House members from both parties—Congressman Denver Riggleman regrettably was not among them—recently sent a letter in support. It’s time to get this bill done.
The pandemic has reinforced how important nature truly is. Let’s take concrete action today and pass the Great American Outdoors Act to protect more green spaces for our health, safety, and economic recovery.
Alex Taurel is the conservation program director at the League of Conservation Voters. He and his family live in Charlottesville.
Diarrhea Planet got rowdy at The Southern in April 2015. Photo by Tom Daly
Livestreamed concerts are better than no concerts at all, but, let’s face it, they’re nothing like the real thing. As the Foo Fighters’ Dave Grohl put it recently, “the coronavirus pandemic has reduced today’s live music to unflattering little windows that look like doorbell security footage and sound like Neil Armstrong’s distorted transmissions from the moon.”
Like so many of us, Grohl, who was planning to play a show for 80,000 outside D.C. this Fourth of July to celebrate the 25th anniversary of his band’s debut album, is longing for the return of real live shows. But, though outdoor restaurants may open as early as this Friday, the summer concert season is still a distant dream. As our Culture reporter Erin O’Hare writes, even if and when local venues are allowed to reopen, who can imagine a socially distant rock show? The closeness—the sweaty, ecstatic, singing at the top of your lungs, jumping arm in arm with strangers closeness—is the point.
So this week, we’re reveling in reminiscence. Our call for your favorite Charlottesville concert memory yielded dozens of stories, from legendary, now-shuttered venues like Trax and Tokyo Rose, to more recent shows at the Jefferson and the Pavilion.
Two months into social distancing, it’s become clear that we can’t just wait this virus out—it’s going to be here for a long time, and we had better find ways to live with it while staying safe. So whether it’s drive-in concerts, or theater seats six feet apart, I’m hopeful that we’ll come up with creative ways of experiencing art that can bring some solace in this uncharted time. In the meantime, I’ll keep pulling out my old records.
Mountaintop Montessori teacher Corey Borgman educates parents and kids on how to use new online learning platforms. Photo courtesy subject
By Virginia Daugherty
“We teachers stay in touch and try to keep up our morale.”
“Children aren’t meant to sit in front of computers all day.”
“I’m upping my skills daily.”
“I didn’t sign up for this.”
It’s Teacher Appreciation Week, and this year our local educators deserve a special shout-out as they try their best to teach under quarantine.
On Friday, March 13, local teachers learned there would be no school starting Monday, March 16. With some on-the-ball leadership, they pivoted, and thus started a peculiar kind of education.
Zoom, Google Classroom, Seesaw, MeVideo—teachers had to pick up computer programs immediately so online classes could function. Most had never done “distance teaching.” Yes, they had used technology. But not to the extent now required.
“First, I assigned all the students to make a video of themselves singing ‘We Shall Overcome’ with their families,” Charlottesville High School music teacher Will Cooke says. “They laughed, but some of them really got into it, using beatboxes and tambourines.” French teacher Dorothy Carney taught Buford Middle School students how to take an online tour of the Louvre and write about a painting. At Jack Jouett Middle School, English teachers mailed a novel to 200 seventh-graders, then posted the reading assignments online, according to instructional coach Erin James. Across our school systems, and I presume the whole U.S., there’s an explosion of creativity.
CHS music teacher Will Cooke teaching from home. Photo courtesy subject.
Not that it’s easy. “It takes a lot more preparation and planning,” says CHS art teacher Marcelle Van Yahres. “It’s a steep learning curve,” according to Mountaintop Montessori art teacher Ginnie Daugherty. “The lighting may be bad. The background may be bad.” Reading specialist Kris Wray has to post comments for Greer Elementary School kids in 11 different classes.
The internet provides a lot of content, but much must be created from scratch. A teacher may record herself reading Abuelo and the Three Bears, post a math problem, or create a bread-making video. Making these may take 15 minutes or four hours.
At Stoney Point Elementary, Shelby White gives her preschool through first graders only an hour of work a day, half math and half literacy. “It’s overwhelming for some,” she says. Kelly Farr gives her Clark Elementary kids a weekly schedule and makes it as user-friendly as possible. Nathanael Greene Primary teacher Jennifer Murphy simply films herself for small lessons, joking “I’m 61. The younger teachers are more savvy.” Cooke can’t conduct his four real choruses, so he gives one-on-one singing lessons to 140 chorus members, grades nine-12.
Not everybody has Wi-Fi access and it’s not conducive to some activities . “Everything is different. Everyone is struggling. We had to refigure how to do everything.” Wray says. Some parents know computers, some don’t. Some parents find teaching natural, others don’t know how.”
“I was talking to a student yesterday, and he said ‘Can I call you back? I’m babysitting my little brother,’” says Cooke. “Many students are working, so they have double responsibilities. I see my students in every grocery store in town.” And many parents are in survival mode, maybe working at home, depressed over job loss, or short on food money.
Corey Borgman, English and math teacher at Mountaintop, explains that some parents cannot get onto a school-type schedule. Their children are all different ages. “They are just trying to think of fun activities, like camping in the backyard.” White says she tries to model teaching for the parents. “My Choice Boards have ideas for parents of things to do, using gross motor skills and fine motor skills, for example. Preschoolers learn through play, not just sitting at a desk.”
“I’m a huge hugger,” says Kelly Farr at Clark. “Now every Wednesday my fourth grade has Google Meet. They can see each other. We don’t work. It’s a chance to see what everybody is doing. We have dance parties!”
Jennifer Murphy videos an early literacy lesson. Photo courtesy subject.
For all the innovation and creativity, though, there’s no getting around the loss of in-person connection. “Normally we see kids and parents and there is a lot of nonverbal communication,” Borgman says. “I cannot tell how thoroughly they are understanding now because I’m not getting that feedback.” Jennifer Murphy, at Greene, agrees. “Seesaw has feedback but it’s inconsistent. In class you’re witnessing every moment,” she says. “Also, I have ESL students, and this is not meeting their needs.”
The abrupt change to the end of the school year has been hard emotionally, too. “We didn’t get to say goodbye,” says one teacher. “I still get upset,” says another. “After our class meetings I just start to cry. We miss seeing the kids. We worry about the ones we don’t hear from.”
What is the silver lining for education in a quarantine? The Standards of Learning (Virginia’s statewide standardized tests) were postponed. “We are grateful for this return to creative teaching,” says Cooke. And Beth Gehle, a CHS social studies instructor, echoes that. “This may be an opportunity to rethink how we assess. High-stakes testing is not equitable. What is the best way to find out what students know?”
“I hope it’s an opportunity to realize what’s important,” says Wray. “We should slow down.” And James confides, “This has forced some teachers to catch up on technology.” But she adds, “I hope that kids get sick of computers.”
Virginia Daugherty is a former mayor of Charlottesville. Her daughter, Ginnie Daugherty, teaches at Mountaintop Montessori.
Like so many others, I’ve been taking a lot of walks lately. My walk, and getting the mail, have become the highlights of my day. In this, my quarantine life resembles my life when my first child was born. She came, too, in early March, and life slowed down enough that, for maybe the first time, I began to notice the progression of spring.
As I paraded up and down the Brooklyn blocks to get her to sleep or, more often, just to give myself something to do, I watched the world wake up, and I marked every flower. First the daffodils and forsythia, then the azaleas and the tulips. The magnolias gave way to the cherry blossoms. Finally, the rhododendron and the roses.
Here, we are lucky enough to leave near Meadow Creek, and this spring, with nowhere to go, I’ve watched the bare brown banks come slowly alive. I’ve noticed the first yellow wildflowers, lesser celandine (which a friend later informed me were invasive), and how the buttercups have shown up now, after the violets. My girls have been delighted by the preponderance of robins in the yard, the occasional flash of a bluebird. In the creek we’ve spotted lizards and snakes, and once, I swear, a turtle.
As cities around the world have seen how clean the air gets when auto and air travel drastically decrease, many people have also discovered a newfound connection to the natural world around them. That matters, because, while global emissions levels have dropped, they haven’t dropped enough.
To have any hope of mitigating the most disastrous effects of climate change, we will need to sustain much bigger shifts after the pandemic is over. So far, rational argument and evidence have failed to persuade the world to change. Perhaps remembering this time, when so many experienced nature as a source of solace and delight, will be what saves us.
The last time I went out for dinner was a Friday in early March. My husband and I met friends for drinks and nachos at Beer Run, then headed to the Downtown Mall for dinner. We probably shouldn’t have: Schools had just been closed (for “two weeks”), we were all washing our hands maniacally and not giving hugs. But it was a warm, beautiful spring night, and it felt like maybe the last time in an long time we’d be able to feel some semblance of normal.
Restaurants were packed that evening, but over the next few days they all began to close, one after another. More than a month later, Charlottesville’s food scene is still in limbo, as local spots try to survive through a springtime with no graduation, no lunch crowds on the Downtown Mall, no Fridays after Five, no weekends of live music and picnics at the wineries, no weddings.
Some places tried takeout and delivery for awhile, then closed. Others shut down immediately, but have recently reopened with revamped menus and ordering systems and curbside pickup. None of it has been easy. “We are working more now than before we closed, and we were open seven days a week,” says Angelo Vangelopoulos of the Ivy Inn. Vangelopoulos has enlisted family members to help turn the sit-down, upscale American spot into a takeout joint open four evenings a week.
For eateries that had already done some takeout, like Mel’s Café on West Main, adapting is a little easier, but business has still taken a hit. “It’s not the same money right now,” owner Mel Walker told us. “But we’re hanging in there.”
As businesses continue to try to access federal support, the City of Charlottesville has offered some financial assistance of its own, though many restaurants were unable to qualify for its recent BRACE grants. More help is coming, says Jason Ness of the city’s Office of Economic Development. Let’s hope it’s enough.
The James River Water Authority wants to build a water pump station at the confluence of the James and Rivanna rivers, an important historic site for the Monacan tribe. Photo: Carrie Pruitt
By Zoé Edgecomb
Between now and May 7, Virginians have a rare opportunity to facilitate a moment of justice for the Monacan people whose land we live on.
Zion Crossroads, at the intersection of I-64 and Route 15, is developing rapidly, and local politicians have known for years that the groundwater is insufficient. Their solution is to pump water from the James River, and Louisa and Fluvanna counties created the James River Water Authority to make this happen.
The men on this board have determined that the cheapest, and therefore best, place for the water intake and pumping station is where the Rivanna River flows into the James —you may know it as Point of Fork or Columbia. The earliest maps of Virginia called it Rassawek, and European explorers noted it as the principal town of the Monacan, who occupied a large area in central Virginia, from the Fall Line (Richmond, Fredericksburg) into the Blue Ridge Mountains.
Several alternative locations for the project were studied, but after a well-attended meeting where over 100 people traveled to a gated community golf clubhouse to speak against it, the JRWA chose to continue the colonialist tradition of prioritizing profit over justice, and voted to submit an application for the third of four required permits to the Army Corps of Engineers.
The mindset that has allowed the project to get even this far is a product of centuries of myth-building: European colonists came to an empty, untamed land in which the Indians had already died off, and made the land fruitful for the first time. But the Monacan people have always been here, even if some of their number chose to incorporate into other tribes. The heart of the current community, a federally recognized tribe since 2018, beats just an hour south of Charlottesville, around Bear Mountain in Amherst County.
Few of us growing up around here learned much about the Monacans, and even today, few know about the doctrine of discovery that helped justify colonization. Accounts vary as to the exact beginning, but a few papal bulls (essentially letters from the Pope) played a critical role: In 1455, Pope Nicholas V gave Portugal the right to colonize the African coast. Portugal was encouraged to “invade, capture, vanquish, and subdue all Saracens, pagans, and other enemies of Christ, to put them into perpetual slavery, and to take away all their possessions and property.”
Later, Protestant colonizers found their own mandate for colonization in the Bible. The kings and queens of England borrowed the Pope’s religious language to grant tracts of land they had never visited.
After they shrugged off their own status as colonial subjects, U.S. settlers relied on a distinction between “Christians” and “heathens” to justify further expansion into Indian territory. In 1823, Justice John Marshall’s ruling in Johnson v. M’Intosh put it this way: “…discovery gave title to the government by whose subjects, or by whose authority, it was made…which title might be consummated by possession…the character and religion of [the original] inhabitants afforded an apology for considering them as a people over whom the superior genius of Europe might claim an ascendancy.” In other words, finders keepers, as long as the original caretakers of the land could be perceived as pagans.
The legacy of the discovery precedent continues today, as corporations, government entities, and private citizens insist that Native Americans’ rights must give way to the “greater good” of pipelines, mining, and ranching.
Federal recognition means tribes must be consulted when federal projects will directly impact the tribe. This is one such project. Monacan people historically buried the dead in mounds near principal towns, so there is almost 100 percent certainty that human remains of Monacan ancestors will be unearthed if construction goes forward at Rassawek. Chief Kenneth Branham has stated that he and the Monacan community have participated in the process of reburial in the past. It is a deeply painful experience that no one wants to repeat.
To issue this permit, the Army Corps of Engineers is required to consider comments from the public. They need to consider all impacts, including on historic and cultural resources. Already, the site has allegedly been impacted by inept investigations: The archaeological firm hired by JRWA is accused of inflating its qualifications to do archaeological work of this nature, and of performing excavations at the site in a manner that may have permanently destroyed historic resources.
For more information, visit the website of the attorneys representing the Monacan Nation in this important struggle. Write to the Army Corps of Engineers and sign the letter to Governor Ralph Northam before the May 7 deadline. Tell them you oppose JRWA’s permit application; it is not in the public interest; and that Rassawek should be preserved as an important part of national, Virginia, and tribal history. Request a public hearing on the permit application and an environmental impact statement.
Louisa and Fluvanna counties must implement sensible water use guidelines, such as disallowing high-impact uses like golf courses. Ask developers to pay their fair share. By now, we should be able to recognize that the Monacan people have given up enough.
Zoé Edgecomb is a landscape architect and visual artist based in Charlottesville, located on Monacan lands.
Only 18 of the 55 licensed childcare centers and preschools in Charlottesville and Albemarle County are currently open, which means many local parents are struggling to balance working at home while caring for their kids. PC: Eze Amos
As unemployment reaches staggering levels, those of us who still have full-time jobs right now are the lucky ones. But for parents, especially folks with younger children, the fact that work has not stopped even though everything else has (including schools and childcare) poses its own problems.
This week, we talked with parents who are scrambling to educate and care for their kids while also holding down full-time jobs. Their coping methods range from squeezing in work between bedtime and midnight to calling in grandparents (and potentially putting them at risk).
“Pandemics expose and exacerbate the existing dynamics of society—good and bad,” writes Chloe Cooney, in a recent piece called “Parents are not O.K.” “One of those dynamics is the burden we put on individual parents and families. We ask individuals to solve for problems that are systemic.”
Pre-pandemic, that meant every new parent had to figure out, as if from scratch, how to manage jobs that assume workers are available 24/7, with childcare options that are inflexible, mind-bogglingly expensive, unreliable, or all of the above.
Now, the struggle to balance work and family obligations is simply more stark. It’s impossible, but we’ve collectively decided to pretend it can be done.
As the virus has highlighted our existing inequalities, some are hoping that it will also prompt sweeping changes afterwards, from paid sick leave for low-wage workers to a better health care system for all. Perhaps, too, the collective experience of having all of our children at home will inspire more respect (and better compensation) for teachers and caregivers, and policies that make it easier to have a career and a family.
With schools in Virginia closed until at least nextfall, there’s plenty of time to dream.
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.”
The Local Food Hub has launched weekly drive-through farmers’ markets.
On a recent gorgeous spring afternoon,I took my daughter along in the car on the way to pick up an order at the bakery. Our windows were down. WNRN was playing a community connection ad that clearly hadn’t been revised post stay-at-home order, promoting an upcoming dance performance. The dogwoods were in bloom. For a few seconds, everything felt normal.
It’s an odd moment we’re in. While the number of confirmed cases of COVID-19 has been steadily creeping up in the Charlottesville area (as of April 6, there were 95 cases in our health district), we are still mostly in a stage of prevention and preparation. The pandemic has utterly changed the life of our community and devastated many people’s livelihoods. But the news reports from New York, where more than 600 people died in a single day and a field hospital has been set up in Central Park, still feel like dispatches from another planet.
Meanwhile, we are all trying to figure out how to live in this changed world. This week, we bring you stories about local efforts to grapple with the same issues that have come up in communities across the country and the world: How do our farmers get their food to customers? (p. 12). How do our public schools make sure kids with wildly different resources can equitably learn at home? How do we prevent our jails from becoming hotbeds for the virus?
Like so many other places, we are adapting on the fly, coming up with new solutions, and trying to make it work. We are hoping that the sacrifices we are making now will protect us. We are holding our breath.
