An old photo recalls the novelty, and the sadness, of the COVID pandemic.
It is fascinating how a song or a picture can stir up emotions. This picture seems, at first glance, an ordinary picture of a vacant cubicle. Yet it takes me back to an interesting time in my life, if not for me personally, to the billions on the planet who lived through the COVID pandemic, when the routine of life slipped into dystopia.
This picture was taken in September 2020. Since March of that year, the US Forest Service office had followed the guidance of the CDC and the White House in a complete shutdown of the office. Everyone had been sent home. Fortunately for the USFS and all its employees, working virtually had been a part of our lives for several years, albeit more the exception than the rule. As the summer progressed, the restrictions were lessened somewhat, allowing us to return to the office one or two days of the week. But since the beginning, somebody had to be assigned the task of watering the plants. I found the chore a nice distraction. It allowed me the opportunity of seeing what few people worked in the office, talking to each other from a safe distance. And each plant reflected in some respect the values and interests of my colleagues.
Yet it was a sad time. This empty cubicle had once been inhabited by a colleague. He was gone. I knew not where. We had worked out an arrangement of caring for each other’s plants. But he had either retired or been transferred. Nothing was left in his cubicle, allowing my plants to overflow over the top of the wall unimpeded. In fact, the plants seemed to fare too well as they progressively began creeping from their upper shelf pots down onto the counters below.
The view from the window reminded me of what I enjoyed on a daily basis, gazing over an older part of Juneau onto the slopes of Mt. Juneau, where we would during our breaks seek out mountain goats.
I must admit that by September it was getting a bit depressing. What was once a vibrant community of 150 workers had fallen to nothing in March, but by September about a dozen folks would be coming to work on a regular basis. But gone were the rituals that shaped life at the office. No longer did I encounter colleagues in the kitchen, the table that held our latest jigsaw puzzle challenge was empty, no more birthday parties, no sendoffs for people taking positions elsewhere in the country, no retirement parties, and no meeting newcomers. No idea of who was where, and what projects they were doing. As an IT person I learned a great deal about the Forest Service through the people that worked in that office. They were knowledgeable, willing to teach a thing or two, and enthusiastic about their jobs. That energy had now dissipated.
I would retire at the end of November 2020. No goodbyes. No one baked me a cake. No party. Yet I would pick up through the grape vine that my experience was quite common. It was a tough time for everyone. My regret is that I did not take pictures of folks. I am a bit shy about things like that, respecting people’s privacy. But I really miss their faces and I just kick myself for not having the photos with names. Yet I can say, with very, very few exceptions over thirteen years, there wasn’t a person who I did not like. It was a nice place to work. Not many people in this world can say that.
And COVID destroyed that world – at least for a time.
© Copyright 2025 to Eric Niewoehner