Lifestyle
How Covid Changed the Lives of These 29 Americans
Five years ago, Covid took hold and the world transformed almost overnight. As routines and rituals evaporated, often replaced by grief, fear and isolation, many of us wondered: When will things go back to normal? Could they ever?
Today, for many, the coronavirus pandemic seems far away and foggy, while for others it’s as visceral as yesterday. We asked Americans what changes forged in that upheaval have lasted, and hundreds of you detailed the ways your lives assumed a different shape — for better and for worse.
Here are some stories of those enduring changes. Interviews have been edited and condensed for clarity.
Donna Sintic,
72, Santa Monica, Calif.
It totally changed my perspective on holidays which I had controlled for too many years. Suddenly it was okay to eat pizza on the patio — spaced six feet apart — on Thanksgiving. My new resolution was to relinquish control and just let holidays be about gathering family and counting blessings.
Asher Steinberg,
33, New York City
Life is mostly back to normal for me, but my partner and I still test if we have respiratory symptoms, and generally ask our family to as well. I still feel some uncertainty about what the right decisions are — Should I put on a mask on this crowded subway car? Is that person just coughing because of allergies or should I move a couple seats over?
Antoine Carter,
39, Milwaukee He lost his stepdad and an aunt to Covid in 2020.
It restructured our family dynamic, and I needed to step up and fill new roles. Then George Floyd happened, and it gave me courage to stand up for myself, and ask for what I deserved at my job. I went back to school in 2021 and finished my bachelor’s degree online. It forced me to think, and figure out what was next, and who the next me was.
Carolina Acosta-Alzuru,
66, Athens, Ga.
Before the pandemic I had only one houseplant. Today I have more than 30. I still work a lot. I still wake up at 5 a.m. But now I meditate and take care of my plants before I do anything else.
Sarah Kelly,
35, Winston-Salem, N.C. She was finishing graduate school at the time.
My fellowship ended with no direction forward, I lost my temporary housing and didn’t qualify for unemployment as a student. With little savings, I moved back to my hometown for family and community support. I live a much smaller life now, in a town with no opportunities in my field. The upside to it all? I have a beautiful 5-month-old baby girl, who has brought me more joy than I knew was possible.
Miguel Guzman,
56, San Antonio He nearly died after getting Covid in late 2020.
The most important thing is being grateful to be alive, just being able to do the things that we love to do, to play mariachi music. Being in that dire situation, that’s the only thing that I wanted. I was thinking about my family — how they were going to manage if I didn’t live. But I’m still here.
Michelle Jaggi,
43, Erie, Pa.
Masks became so divisive, and I didn’t expect that. A lot of the concrete connections with people are eroded when you’re not participating in the typical activities, when going out to lunch is replaced by texts and calls. It leads to hurt feelings on both sides. I have friends who have said, “Things don’t have to be this way,” but my family feels, for our safety, that it does need to be this way. Those friendships have changed.
Lynn Truong,
36, Las Vegas
My favorite thing I learned was how to love and appreciate my face with no makeup on. Pre-pandemic, I would put on makeup just to check the mail.
Kesha Coward,
47, Richmond, Va. She has multiple sclerosis, and lost her job in April 2022.
I had never been unemployed and I had to lean on my savings. I have M.S., and I didn’t have health insurance for about a year, so I didn’t have my medication. I was able to find a new job, with insurance, but I could not work remotely. I did get Covid, and it impacted my health — I have had a heart monitor installed. I was really going through it, and I had to push myself. I told myself, this can’t be the end of everything.
James P. Burns,
72, New York City
My wife and I had always wanted a dog, but had hesitated because of time constraints. But with the uncertain future, a dog made perfect sense. Kiki will be 5 in April.
Constance Kreemer,
75, Santa Cruz, Calif. She is a professional dancer and has taught yoga for decades.
I believe my body is my temple. I became a pariah during the pandemic because I wasn’t willing to be vaccinated. I had friends who wouldn’t hug me or get in a car with me. I had people tell me I must be a Republican, when I am very, very liberal. There was so much fear instilled in everyone. The lasting change for me was to know who my people were.
Rosanne Zoccoli,
72, New York City
I do wish that more investment be made into this type of long Covid. It is, incorrectly, not considered dangerous. But I can’t smell gas or smoke.
Paige Woodard,
21, Northampton, Mass.
It was the most drastic weight gain I had ever had in my life. And I think I didn’t notice it for a while, in part because I was living in, like, sweatpants and pajama pants, and I didn’t really have to go anywhere. And that weight has stayed on.
Jacqueline Child,
30, Denver She started a dating app with her sister for disabled and chronically ill people.
I was not outspoken about my disability, and now, interacting with this community every day, I have really normalized it for myself. I think for many non-disabled people, there’s a view that disability and intimacy don’t go together. That is something we want to change.
Sydney Drell Reiner,
67, Hermosa Beach, Calif. She was married for 27 years.
“You look so much happier,” friends tell me now that we’re separated and finalizing the divorce. But what I think they’re really seeing is me — the person I used to be before this marriage. The person who made choices based on what I wanted, rather than what I believed was required of me. Covid stripped away the distractions and revealed a truth I’d been avoiding. And for that, strangely enough, I am endlessly grateful.
Tarit Tanjasiri,
61, Irvine, Calif. His cafe and bakery had 70 employees in 2020.
We were able to leverage our relationship with our vendors and at least keep our employees fed. I know that they were there at the hardest times volunteering to come and clean the bakery for free. We’re able to now really make more investments to offer everyone health insurance, retirement plans.
Michele Rabkin,
61, Oakland, Calif.
Trying to keep our spirits up, me, my husband and a few friends decided we would get together on Zoom to chat, then go watch a movie and come back on Zoom afterwards to talk about it. We’ve watched 175 movies together so far.
Shawn’te C.R. Harvell,
42, Elizabeth, N.J. He is a funeral home manager.
I wasn’t getting much sleep because we were so busy, and that was the first time I questioned my career choice. Everything changed with how we culturally referenced and dealt with our dead, to the point where we were going to the cemetery and it was just the funeral director and the deceased. You had to FaceTime the family. I did not get into this to just be picking up a body to dispose of it. It changed the way we do funerals now.
Charles Huang,
22, Rosemount, Minn. He has not gotten Covid and continues to mask.
The isolation I still feel is painful. When I’m in a crowded elevator or on a fully booked flight, I try to act calm, but my mind frantically fixates on the possibility of contracting Covid, and puzzles over why post-pandemic life never came for me the same way it came for what looks like nearly everyone else.
Cindy Way,
67, State College, Pa.
When my evangelical church closed, I felt a spiritual urge to explore other traditions. I began to question everything I had been told, and went into a spiritual freefall from which I haven’t fully recovered. I saw my lifelong Republican views flip as well. I no longer felt threatened by those outside my bubble and began to attend an affirming church and support the rights of all the disenfranchised. It’s still very painful to acknowledge the pain and damage I may have caused others.
Carolyn Thomas,
60, Strasburg, Va.
My employer insisted that we get Covid shots or file for exemptions that, if approved, would lead to regular testing. I wouldn’t get the shots or tests, and so I had to retire early and give up my high salary for a lower pension than I’d expected. I’d voted for Democrats my entire life, and in 2024 I voted for Trump.
Malik Shelton,
33, Augusta, Ga.
A lot of nurses would tell you, in some ways, we miss Covid — the way people treated you then. The country was going through a hard time, and everyone was being hit, so you didn’t have so many situations with nurses being called names, or patients saying they don’t want anyone with an accent. Those things, now? They happen every day.
Kevin Nincehelser,
37, Topeka, Kan. He and his wife had two more children during the pandemic.
I have been close to them their whole lives because Covid allowed me to work from home and better assist with childcare. My wife and I converted our kids from public school to home-school. We now have all our groceries delivered. I am also a business owner and converted our business from 100 percent in the office to 100 percent work from home.
Dr. Mark Hamed,
45, Sandusky, Mich. He is a local public health official.
It taught me to get out of my silo and listen to people with different opinions, different politics and let them educate me. I met with these little old ladies, as they explained their fears about vaccines and autism. They were so scared for their grandchildren. And after that conversation, they were hugging me, texting me. This community is all about family, so now I tell them, “We should probably get the flu vaccine, because we care about our older folks.” They all mean well, there is just so much misinformation.
Talia Falkenberg,
22, Atlanta Her high school was still remote when she returned for her senior year in the fall of 2020.
There were a lot of firsts I was missing out on. My peers and I were so focused on our own futures, and it made us zoom out and focus on the big picture. I don’t sweat the small stuff anymore, and I don’t feel as angry. I give a little more grace, now, to the administrators who made that decision.
Judith Liskin-Gasparro,
78, Iowa City
An informal Yiddish study group started up over Zoom. Although Yiddish was the native language of all of my (immigrant) grandparents, I had learned no Yiddish as a child. I thought the group might be a nice distraction. To my surprise, I fell in love with Yiddish.
Stephanie Woerfel,
72, Everett, Wash.
My sister and I were avid pool swimmers. We live 10 minutes away from Puget Sound. One day we saw a woman in a bikini coming out of the water onto the beach. The next week my sister and I took the plunge. We swim twice a week in the Sound rain or shine, snow or wind.
Asia Santos,
39, San Diego She volunteered to travel as a nurse to New York City in April 2020.
You were faced with these huge questions every day: What is a good death? What is a bad death? My thing was, no one is allowed to die alone. It was the only way I could get up the next day. You can make trauma work negatively for you, or positively.
Mei Davis,
60, Pensacola, Fla. She has not fully regained her sense of taste and smell after getting Covid in 2021.
Life almost becomes muted. I lived to travel, and the first thing I always did was look up the best restaurant wherever I was. I still do that, because you don’t want to give up on these things, and you hope someday they might come sliding back.
Julia Demaree Nikhinson/AP
A federal judge has blocked President Trump from adding his name to the Kennedy Center, saying that the Washington, D.C. arts complex was named for the late president John F. Kennedy. In a ruling on Friday, the judge also temporarily blocked the administration from closing the Kennedy Center for a planned two-year renovation that was slated to begin in July.
U.S. District Court Judge Christopher Cooper wrote in his ruling that: “The Kennedy Center’s organic statute makes crystal clear that the Center is to be named for President Kennedy, and it cannot bear any other formal name or public memorial based on the Board’s unilateral say-so. Congress gave the Kennedy Center its name, and only Congress can change it.”
A Kennedy Center spokesperson told NPR in an email Friday afternoon that it will appeal the decision. Roma Daravi, vice president of public relations for the complex, wrote: “We will review the decision carefully though the reality remains — the Center requires an urgent and significant restoration – a truth that even the plaintiff acknowledges. With $257 million secured by President Trump and approved by Congress, the resources are in place and we remain committed to pursuing every lawful avenue to ensure the Trump Kennedy Center is restored as a national cultural landmark for all Americans to enjoy.”
NPR has requested comment from the White House, but did not receive an immediate reply.
As part of his ruling, Judge Cooper ordered that all signage and online materials referring to the “Donald J. Trump and John F. Kennedy Memorial Center for the Performing Arts,” the “Trump Kennedy Center,” or anything similar must be removed within 14 days.
The judge also blocked, for now, plans to close the Kennedy Center for two years of renovations. Trump and the center’s current voting board members – all of whom were selected by the president, who also became chairman of the center last year – had planned to start the renovations in early July, just after the 250th anniversary celebrations. In his 94-page ruling, Judge Cooper called the renovation plans “murky,” and wrote: “None of the board members had sufficient information in advance of the March 16 meeting to make a well-considered decision to close the center.” The center has been winding down its programming and has already dismissed most of its programming staff.
Referring to a Truth Social post written by President Trump in February, the judge also wrote: “There was no ‘one year review of the Trump Kennedy Center, that has taken place with Contractors, Musical Experts, Art Institutions, and other Advisors and Consultants, deciding between’ complete and partial closure, as President Trump claimed.”
Cooper’s ruling resulted from a lawsuit filed in March by Rep. Joyce Beatty of Ohio, an ex-officio member of the Kennedy Center board whose voting rights there were stripped last year.
The ruling does not prevent the Kennedy Center’s board from a future closure, but the judge said that it should do so only after the board has “sufficient information to make a considered, independent decision, taking account of its obligation to both maintain and operate a premiere arts venue and its solemn duty to memorialize a fallen President.”
Three years after my second divorce, with the help of a dating app, I went on 53 first dates in one summer. Fifty-three times, I put on my first-date uniform (nice but not trying too hard), flat-ironed my hair and texted my date itinerary to my friend Karen to make it easier for the FBI to track my whereabouts just in case this was the internet date that finally went wrong.
I had a system. The system involved a spreadsheet. I kept track of what I wore and what stories we shared to avoid repeating myself in case there was a second or third date. There were exploratory follow-up dates, but it usually only took one to know.
The coffees and lunches and dinners of that season flicker in my mind like a rom-com video montage. There were some average dates, plenty of nice-guy, zero-chemistry dates, but a few stand out.
Here are the notables.
There was the extremely tall, minor league baseball player I met at BJ’s in Burbank. He said no more than four words to me the entire meal, but managed to chat up our waitress. I believe he walked me to my car and went back for her number.
The quiet and irritable TV editor I met at Guelaguetza on Olympic Boulevard. We ordered the chicken mole and chapulines. During the meal, he had a panic attack and excused himself to call his therapist. He actually told me this.
The experimental-video director with the white faux hawk I met at Go Get Em Tiger in East Hollywood. He spent the date in an hourlong monologue about his ex-wife Julia, stopping only to show me many, many photos of Julia.
A young man, originally from Phoenix, asked to meet at Soot Bull Jip on 8th Street. A struggling writer-actor-production assistant, he confided that he had looked up my name on Internet Movie Database and noticed that I was a producer. He then proceeded to pitch me an animated children’s show about singing giraffes. He also asked for a ride to Vons. I declined both.
The screenwriter I met at République who, based on his startling non-resemblance to his photo, had obviously posted a picture of someone else on his profile. He brought me three mixed CDs of music based on what he “knew” I would like. It was all Radiohead and Elliott Smith. I adjusted my dating profile because I was apparently coming off as depressed.
There was the nervous and uptight English tutor, with a script in turn-around and a famous roommate, that I met at a Starbucks in Koreatown. This guy corrected my grammar within the first five minutes of our introduction. Then, he proceeded to inform me that rather than be put off by this, I should be grateful for the new information so I could fix my error and not appear to be uneducated.
The trendy, bearded sports photographer I met for a late-night dinner at Fred 62 in Los Feliz. I had high hopes for this guy, and we made plans for a second date. But then things started unraveling once we realized I had already dated his younger brother.
There was also the suave (Hand kiss? Really?) and extremely tan French tennis pro I crossed La Cienega Boulevard for and met for lunch at Thai Vegan in Santa Monica. He was on a nonstop series of calls on his cellphone during the entire meal and then asked for a second date. I said, “Non, merci.”
When describing these guys to Karen, I used their identifying traits to label them. (Stalker Creep. Dude Looks Like a Lady. Mom Jeans Guy.) Like an FNG in Vietnam, it was better not to learn their names.
Due to a story he had shared with me via email, date No. 53 was identified as Naked Drummer. I tried to reserve judgment. Before Naked Drummer came to meet me for our first date, he called at the last minute and said the following:
“I want to recap. I just turned 30. I am currently living with my mother. I play guitar in an alternative folk band. I have a semi-crappy temp job at Disney with no benefits. I drive a green ’97 Plymouth Grand Voyager minivan that smells like weed. If you would like to change your mind about this whole dinner thing, now is your chance.” He described himself as tall, dark and tall.
For some reason, I broke many of my first date “safety rules” with Naked Drummer. I gave him my address. I let him pick me up. When he came to get me, I let him into my apartment. We went for dinner at Noshi Sushi on Beverly Boulevard. None of that is prudent behavior, and I do not recommend any of it except the chu toro.
Naked Drummer was a funny, smart, nice Jewish boy who had been touring in bands in that Grand Voyager since college graduation. On the first date, we bonded over takuwan rolls and our histories as teenage goths. My goth uniform included black Maybelline eyeliner I used a lighter to heat the tip with before application. His goth uniform included an olive-green trench coat he borrowed from his mom. We were a match made in Joy Division heaven. He confided he was an Insane Clown Posse Juggalo, I intimated I was in the Kiss Army. (We were both lying about those last two.)
Reader, I married him.
The author is a former writer, director and producer for television. She and Mr. Rosenberg live in South Pasadena. She’s on Instagram: @smacksy.
L.A. Affairs chronicles the search for romantic love in all its glorious expressions in the L.A. area, and we want to hear your true story. We pay $400 for a published essay. Email LAAffairs@latimes.com. You can find submission guidelines here. You can find past columns here.
Lifestyle
Poppy Liu wants to remind you how revolutionary I Love Boosters is : Bullseye with Jesse Thorn
I Love Boosters starts like a fun heist movie. There’s a gang of cool ladies from the Bay Area who steal clothes from high-end designers and sell them at a steep discount to their friends and neighbors. But I Love Boosters is also a Boots Riley movie. The film is surreal and bombastic, branching out in a thousand directions and traversing a dozen genres. So it can’t really stay a heist movie.
Poppy Liu drives that change more than pretty much any other character in the film. She plays Jianhu, a garment worker in China who joins the gang and brings with her a bonkers new wrinkle to the story. It’s a role Poppy was made for. She’s made her career playing confident, somewhat unhinged weirdos. She was cast in a lead role in the 2019 sitcom Sunnyside, had other parts on Better Call Saul, The After Party, and Hacks.
Liu joins us to talk about starring in I Love Boosters and the message that she hopes audiences take away from the film. She also chats with us about her upbringing in Minnesota, how she got into comedy acting, her role on Hacks, and much more.
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