newyorker--2020-12-21--The Immense Relief of Health-Care Workers Receiving the Vaccine

When Sam Foster , the chief nursing officer at Oxford University Hospitals , entered an I.C.U .
ward for COVID-19 patients for the first time , in April , she wore a long-sleeved gown , a plastic apron and hat , two pairs of gloves , rubber boots , and heavy-duty face protection that resembled a gas mask .
The layers made her almost unrecognizable—her name was scrawled across her apron as an identifier—except for her eyes , which are hazel and unusually bright .
“ The doors opened , and it was like a spaceship , ” she told @ @ @ @ @ @ @ think , Oh , god , what have I done ?
” Foster , who is forty-eight , oversees five thousand health-care workers across four hospitals in Oxfordshire .
In the early days of the pandemic , many of them worked the I.C.U .
in two-hour shifts , tagging in and out like runners in a relay .
When they emerged , they would carefully remove and dispose of their P.P.E.
, type up their notes , eat something , and prepare to do it all again .
The U.K. public was applauding @ @ @ @ @ @ @ P.M. , but the locals around Foster ’ s hospitals learned that the staff didn ’ t leave until 8:30 , and adjusted accordingly .
“ They lined the street , and they were banging their pans and cheering us out , ” she said .
“ Oh , god , it was amazing.
” That was April .
The eight months since have been gruelling and unrelenting .
Foster ’ s hospitals were filled to capacity .
The team lost several staff members to the virus ; two colleagues passed away in @ @ @ @ @ @ @ months , elective surgeries were paused : patients who had been told that they needed an urgent operation on their heart , or their brain , were suddenly told to wait .
“ Everything was focussed on COVID , ” Foster said .
In May , Foster helped set up one of the U.K. ’ s Nightingale hospitals—vast , makeshift spaces for overflow coronavirus patients , which went largely unused .
Soon after , she fell ill for a few days with mild flu-like symptoms .
She didn ’ t take a coronavirus @ @ @ @ @ @ @ in July , she was turned down for the Oxford vaccine trial because antibodies in her blood indicated that she had already had the virus .
All through this time , she continued to work long days alongside her staff .
For “ most of us , it ’ s a life-style choice , ” she said .
“ You ’ re never really off duty.
” This month , Foster learned that her trust had been selected as one of fifty hospital hubs across the U.K. that would begin dispensing the first @ @ @ @ @ @ @ at the last minute , she learned that the hospital would be vaccinating many more patients than expected , across three regional areas .
“ We had about seventy-two hours to work it through , ” she said .
Nobody slept the night before the vaccine arrived .
They went over their plans .
“ Have we got resuscitation ?
Anaphylaxis ?
All the clinical safety pieces ?
Are the communications right ?
Does everybody know their role ?
” Foster said .
Since December 2nd , when Britain issued emergency approval for @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the first Western country to do so , nurses , doctors , and hospital officials all over the U.K. have been scrambling to ramp up daily vaccinations .
Joe Harrison , the chief executive at Milton Keynes University Hospital , not far from London , told me that the hospital has more positive patients now than it did during the first wave .
On the day we spoke , they had one critical-care bed left available .
“ We ’ re effectively full , ” he said .
On Tuesday , December 8th @ @ @ @ @ @ @ doling out a hundred and seventy-five doses .
“ We started off relatively slowly , ” he said .
“ We didn ’ t know how long each of the steps in the process would take.
” They are working toward the hub ’ s capacity , around seven hundred vaccinations per day .
Iain Davidson , the chief pharmacist at the Royal Cornwall Hospitals N.H.S .
Trust , a network of three hospitals at the far southwestern edge of the country , told me that his hub completed more than two hundred @ @ @ @ @ @ @ care-home workers .
( One home bused in around fifty staffers . )
The day before vaccinations began , the nurses practiced preparing the vaccine with placebos .
Each vial contains several doses , all of which must be used .
“ Every dose is so precious , ” Davidson said .
David Walliker , the chief digital and partnerships officer at Oxford University Hospitals , had been working to get the right patients scheduled for their shot on the first day of vaccinations , Tuesday , the 8th .
On Monday night @ @ @ @ @ @ @ out to thirty patients between eighty years old and ninety-four , ” he told me .
Within two hours , more than twenty-five people had booked .
Walliker had also been working with a small team to design the actual vaccination space , which occupies part of a top floor , normally reserved for teaching , at the Churchill Hospital in Oxford .
( They chose the Churchill because it has a freezer cold enough to store the Pfizer vaccine . )
There ’ s a room where patients check in , another @ @ @ @ @ @ @ then “ they ’ re sent to a third room , where they wait for fifteen minutes and have a cup of coffee and a biscuit to make sure they don ’ t have any adverse reactions to the injection.
” Late Monday night , Walliker was still lugging chairs and setting up plastic shields .
“ It was all hands to deck to make sure we were ready , ” he said .
When the vaccine finally arrived , it came in a case that resembled a pizza box .
“ It @ @ @ @ @ @ @ comes , you know—it ’ s here , ” Foster told me , on a video call from the hospital .
“ Everybody knew it was here.
” They stored it carefully in the ultra-cold freezer .
On the first vaccination day , a small group of staffers gathered around a vial of the vaccine to learn how to make it ready for patients .
“ There were about eight or nine of us nurses , with some pharmacists , all looking at this tiny vial like we were all students , you @ @ @ @ @ @ @ said .
When the inaugural patient , Nicholas Woodthorpe , arrived , Foster administered the first dose .
“ Just because I could , ” she said , beaming .
Some recipients received the vaccine because their roles in health care are exceptionally intimate .
Barbara Lamb , a specialist nurse in the eye department at a hospital trust in Newcastle upon Tyne , received the vaccine on Tuesday , the 8th .
Lamb ’ s work includes close-contact care for patients with glaucoma and other eye conditions , which puts her at @ @ @ @ @ @ @ lives alone , though she takes care of her grandchildren a few times a week .
She commutes to the hospital by bus .
Now that winter has arrived , “ It ’ s dark when I go to work in the morning ; it ’ s dark when you come home , ” she said .
“ It can be quite a lonely existence.
” On the morning of her appointment , she learned that she would be the first of the nursing staff to be vaccinated .
Her photograph was taken @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , really , ” she told me .
She ’ s looking forward to seeing her sister , who lives nearby , and to doing “ things that we ’ ve taken for granted.
” “ Just to be able to go out without your mask on and to give relatives a hug , ” she said .
“ To maybe call on someone you don ’ t see that often .
At the moment , you have to just wave from across the road.
” Stefan Chioariu , the deputy manager at @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Kew , was one of the first people to receive the vaccine in London .
Cecil Court used to have a slew of daily activities for its residents , including flower arranging , yoga classes , and live concerts .
During the pandemic , everything has moved online , and visitors are banned inside the home .
On Thursday , December 10th , Chioariu visited St. George ’ s Hospital for his shot , despite some lingering fears from his wife about side effects .
“ Social media has amplified things , ” @ @ @ @ @ @ @ he was given a leaflet that said the vaccine would not cause him to catch the virus , he said .
“ So that was kind of comforting.
” Other recipients had serious underlying health conditions .
Maia-Lisa Rand was one of the first to receive a vaccination at the Milton Keynes University Hospital hub two weeks ago .
Rand has worked for the N.H.S .
for forty years .
She ’ s now a clinical site manager at Milton Keynes .
When the U.K. government advised extremely vulnerable citizens to practice “ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Rand , who has a chronic lung condition , began working from home .
She has been isolating away from her colleagues for several months , with a brief stint back at the hospital in the summer and early fall , when cases were down .
“ I was desperate to actually go back to work , ” she told me .
“ I love my job.
” On Monday , the 7th , she received an e-mail asking if she would like to get the vaccine .
She scheduled one for Wednesday @ @ @ @ @ @ @ couldn ’ t book my appointment quick enough , ” she said . )
At the hospital , she reunited with co-workers she hadn ’ t seen in months .
“ In all , it took about forty minutes , and it was the best forty minutes I ’ ve spent , ” she said .
Hayley Smith and her husband , Jamie , connected in a clinic for patients with organ transplants years ago ; they have each received a new kidney .
Their shared condition puts them at a higher risk @ @ @ @ @ @ @ her husband withdrew from work and she began working at home .
Smith has overseen a team of nurses in the oncology , hematology , and palliative-care units at the Oxford University Hospitals for ten years .
Working from home was “ like having your right arm chopped off , ” she told me .
Hearing about her staff ’ s distress from afar has been painful .
“ Not being there in such a crisis , you do feel you ’ ve let your team down , ” she said .
On @ @ @ @ @ @ @ s manager called and asked if she ’ d like the vaccine .
She booked an appointment for Friday at 7 A.M. “ It was really buzzy , and it was brilliantly organized , ” she said .
Foster , the nurse in Oxford , gave her the jab , and Smith chatted excitedly the whole way through .
“ I was , like , oh , a human being !
A real person !
” The shot was painless .
“ She was really gentle .
I didn ’ t feel a @ @ @ @ @ @ @ It kind of just filled us with hope.
” Some of her colleagues were nearby , and “ everyone was excited , ” Smith said .
“ We were like kids in a sweets shop.
” When Gavin Bowden , a spinal surgeon who has been self-isolating at home for several months because of underlying medical conditions , arrived at the Churchill hospital for his appointment , he found the scene similarly electric .
“ People weren ’ t going to worry how long they were waiting , ” he said .
“ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ were people texting and people talking.
” The news had just broken that two N.H.S .
workers had developed an allergic reaction after taking the vaccine , and a nurse in line next to him said that she was worried .
But Bowden had no such hesitations .
“ You just had a sense that actually here was the light at the end of the tunnel , ” he said .
Foster was in the hub that day ; she gave Bowden his shot .
By the end of the week , Foster @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
She had recently received the vaccination herself .
Like many other frontline workers with whom I spoke , who were constantly putting themselves in harm ’ s way to protect others , Foster seemed to feel a little guilty about her own vaccination .
She was still worrying about everyone else .
“ The directive from the N.H.S .
was that , literally , if there is a bare-armed member of N.H.S .
staff that is available to take it , and you ’ ve got two or three left , they @ @ @ @ @ @ @ she told me .
“ So , over the course of the week , we searched for our bare-armed colleagues , and anyone who passed had it.
” One evening , toward the end of the week , she couldn ’ t find anyone else to inoculate .
“ At nine o ’ clock at night , we were the only bare-armed people still around , ” she said .
“ So , I have had it.
” More on the Coronavirus • To protect American lives and revive the economy , Donald @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Anthony Fauci rather than trash him .
• We should look to students to conceive of appropriate school-reopening plans .
It is not too late to ask what they really want .
• A pregnant pediatrician on what children need during the crisis .
• Trump is helping tycoons who have donated to his reëlection campaign exploit the pandemic to maximize profits .
• Meet the high-finance mogul in charge of our economic recovery .
• The coronavirus is likely to reshape architecture .
What kinds of space are we willing to live @ @ @ @ @

When Sam Foster, the chief nursing officer at Oxford University Hospitals, entered an I.C.U. ward for COVID-19 patients for the first time, in April, she wore a long-sleeved gown, a plastic apron and hat, two pairs of gloves, rubber boots, and heavy-duty face protection that resembled a gas mask. The layers made her almost unrecognizable—her name was scrawled across her apron as an identifier—except for her eyes, which are hazel and unusually bright. “The doors opened, and it was like a spaceship,” she told me recently. “And I did think, Oh, god, what have I done?” Foster, who is forty-eight, oversees five thousand health-care workers across four hospitals in Oxfordshire. In the early days of the pandemic, many of them worked the I.C.U. in two-hour shifts, tagging in and out like runners in a relay. When they emerged, they would carefully remove and dispose of their P.P.E., type up their notes, eat something, and prepare to do it all again. The U.K. public was applauding health-care workers every Thursday night at 8 P.M., but the locals around Foster’s hospitals learned that the staff didn’t leave until 8:30, and adjusted accordingly. “They lined the street, and they were banging their pans and cheering us out,” she said. “Oh, god, it was amazing.”
That was April. The eight months since have been gruelling and unrelenting. Foster’s hospitals were filled to capacity. The team lost several staff members to the virus; two colleagues passed away in a single weekend. For a few months, elective surgeries were paused. “Everything was focussed on COVID,” Foster said. In May, Foster helped set up one of the U.K.’s Nightingale hospitals—vast, makeshift spaces for overflow coronavirus patients, which went largely unused. Soon after, she fell ill for a few days with mild flu-like symptoms. She didn’t take a coronavirus test at the time, but, in July, she was turned down for the Oxford vaccine trial because antibodies in her blood indicated that she had already had the virus. All through this time, she continued to work long days alongside her staff. For “most of us, it’s a life-style choice,” she said. “You’re never really off duty.”
This month, Foster learned that her trust had been selected as one of fifty hospital hubs across the U.K. that would begin dispensing the first doses of the vaccine. Then, at the last minute, she learned that the hospital would be vaccinating many more patients than expected, across three regional areas. “We had about seventy-two hours to work it through,” she said. Nobody slept the night before the vaccine arrived. They went over their plans. “Have we got resuscitation? Anaphylaxis? All the clinical safety pieces? Are the communications right? Does everybody know their role?” Foster said.
Since December 2nd, when Britain issued emergency approval for Pfizer’s coronavirus vaccine, becoming the first Western country to do so, nurses, doctors, and hospital officials all over the U.K. have been scrambling to ramp up daily vaccinations. Joe Harrison, the chief executive at Milton Keynes University Hospital, not far from London, told me that the hospital has more positive patients now than it did during the first wave. On the day we spoke, they had one critical-care bed left available. “We’re effectively full,” he said. On Tuesday, December 8th, they began their vaccination drive, doling out a hundred and seventy-five doses. “We started off relatively slowly,” he said. “We didn’t know how long each of the steps in the process would take.” They are working toward the hub’s capacity, around seven hundred vaccinations per day. Iain Davidson, the chief pharmacist at the Royal Cornwall Hospitals N.H.S. Trust, a network of three hospitals at the far southwestern edge of the country, told me that his hub completed more than two hundred vaccinations on its first day, mostly care-home workers. (One home bused in around fifty staffers.) The day before vaccinations began, the nurses practiced preparing the vaccine with placebos. Each vial contains several doses, all of which must be used. “Every dose is so precious,” Davidson said.
David Walliker, the chief digital and partnerships officer at Oxford University Hospitals, had been working to get the right patients scheduled for their shot on the first day of vaccinations, Tuesday, the 8th. On Monday night, “We sent a text message out to thirty patients between eighty years old and ninety-four,” he told me. Within two hours, more than twenty-five people had booked. Walliker had also been working with a small team to design the actual vaccination space, which occupies part of a top floor, normally reserved for teaching, at the Churchill Hospital in Oxford. (They chose the Churchill because it has a freezer cold enough to store the Pfizer vaccine.) There’s a room where patients check in, another where they’re vaccinated, and then “they’re sent to a third room, where they wait for fifteen minutes and have a cup of coffee and a biscuit to make sure they don’t have any adverse reactions to the injection.” Late Monday night, Walliker was still lugging chairs and setting up plastic shields. “It was all hands to deck to make sure we were ready,” he said.
When the vaccine finally arrived, it came in a case that resembled a pizza box. “It’s like when the Coca-Cola van comes, you know—it’s here,” Foster told me, on a video call from the hospital. “Everybody knew it was here.” They stored it carefully in the ultra-cold freezer. On the first vaccination day, a small group of staffers gathered around a vial of the vaccine to learn how to make it ready for patients. “There were about eight or nine of us nurses, with some pharmacists, all looking at this tiny vial like we were all students, you know, in silence,” she said. When the inaugural patient, Nicholas Woodthorpe, arrived, Foster administered the first dose. “Just because I could,” she said, beaming.
The vaccine has come at a grim time for Britain. Last week, surging cases in London pushed the capital into Tier 3 of coronavirus restrictions, closing pubs, restaurants, and theatres, and further limiting in-person gatherings. On Saturday, amid rising fears about a new, potentially more infectious version of the virus, the government announced that much of the South-East and East of England, including London, would move into Tier 4, effectively cancelling Christmas plans for millions. The hospitals are full again, and flu season is upon us. The National Health Service has advised hospitals to prioritize patients over eighty for the vaccine, followed by care-home workers, who have been among Britain’s hardest hit. Remaining shots were going to N.H.S. staff members, focussing on the clinically vulnerable, many of whom have been unable to work during the pandemic.
Some recipients received the vaccine because their roles in health care are exceptionally intimate. Barbara Lamb, a specialist nurse in the eye department at a hospital trust in Newcastle upon Tyne, received the vaccine on Tuesday, the 8th. Lamb’s work includes close-contact care for patients with glaucoma and other eye conditions, which puts her at increased risk. Lamb is sixty-eight and lives alone, though she takes care of her grandchildren a few times a week. She commutes to the hospital by bus. Now that winter has arrived, “It’s dark when I go to work in the morning; it’s dark when you come home,” she said. “It can be quite a lonely existence.” On the morning of her appointment, she learned that she would be the first of the nursing staff to be vaccinated. Her photograph was taken. “It was all quite surreal, really,” she told me. She’s looking forward to seeing her sister, who lives nearby, and to doing “things that we’ve taken for granted.” “Just to be able to go out without your mask on and to give relatives a hug,” she said. “To maybe call on someone you don’t see that often. At the moment, you have to just wave from across the road.”
Stefan Chioariu, the deputy manager at Cecil Court, a care home in Kew, was one of the first people to receive the vaccine in London. Cecil Court used to have a slew of daily activities for its residents, including flower arranging, yoga classes, and live concerts. During the pandemic, everything has moved online, and visitors are banned inside the home. On Thursday, December 10th, Chioariu visited St. George’s Hospital for his shot, despite some lingering fears from his wife about side effects. “Social media has amplified things,” he said. At his appointment, he was given a leaflet that said the vaccine would not cause him to catch the virus, he said. “So that was kind of comforting.”
Other recipients had serious underlying health conditions. Maia-Lisa Rand was one of the first to receive a vaccination at the Milton Keynes University Hospital hub two weeks ago. Rand has worked for the N.H.S. for forty years. She’s now a clinical site manager at Milton Keynes. When the U.K. government advised extremely vulnerable citizens to practice “shielding” early in the pandemic, Rand, who has a chronic lung condition, began working from home. She has been isolating away from her colleagues for several months, with a brief stint back at the hospital in the summer and early fall, when cases were down. “I was desperate to actually go back to work,” she told me. “I love my job.” On Monday, the 7th, she received an e-mail asking if she would like to get the vaccine. She scheduled one for Wednesday, at 8 A.M. (“I couldn’t book my appointment quick enough,” she said.) At the hospital, she reunited with co-workers she hadn’t seen in months. “In all, it took about forty minutes, and it was the best forty minutes I’ve spent,” she said.
Hayley Smith and her husband, Jamie, connected in a clinic for patients with organ transplants years ago; they have each received a new kidney. Their shared condition puts them at a higher risk for the virus. In March, her husband withdrew from work and she began working at home. Smith has overseen a team of nurses in the oncology, hematology, and palliative-care units at the Oxford University Hospitals for ten years. Working from home was “like having your right arm chopped off,” she told me. Hearing about her staff’s distress from afar has been painful. “Not being there in such a crisis, you do feel you’ve let your team down,” she said. On Thursday, the 10th, Smith’s manager called and asked if she’d like the vaccine. She booked an appointment for Friday at 7 A.M. “It was really buzzy, and it was brilliantly organized,” she said. Foster, the nurse in Oxford, gave her the jab, and Smith chatted excitedly the whole way through. “I was, like, oh, a human being! A real person!” The shot was painless. “She was really gentle. I didn’t feel a thing,” Smith said. “It kind of just filled us with hope.” Some of her colleagues were nearby, and “everyone was excited,” Smith said. “We were like kids in a sweets shop.”
When Gavin Bowden, a spinal surgeon who has been self-isolating at home for several months because of underlying medical conditions, arrived at the Churchill hospital for his appointment, he found the scene similarly electric. “People weren’t going to worry how long they were waiting,” he said. “People were really quite animated about it—there were people texting and people talking.” The news had just broken that two N.H.S. workers had developed an allergic reaction after taking the vaccine, and a nurse in line next to him said that she was worried. But Bowden had no such hesitations. “You just had a sense that actually here was the light at the end of the tunnel,” he said. Foster was in the hub that day; she gave Bowden his shot.


newyorker--2020-12-21--The Republican Rift in Georgia

The Republican Rift in Georgia

In the past month , a fracture has opened in the G.O.P .
between those who grudgingly accept Joe Biden @ @ @ @ @ who falsely claim that the election was rigged .
In Georgia , supporters of Donald @ @ @ @ @ election officials—in some cases , with threats of violence .
The Atlanta-based staff writer Charles @ @ @ @ @ is dangerous for Republicans .
Georgia ’ s two incumbent Republican senators are being challenged @ @ @ @ @ January ; the G.O.P .
needs to retain at least one of these seats to @ @ @ @ @ the Senate Majority Leader , Mitch McConnell , near-veto power over the Biden agenda .
@ @ @ @ @ Trump and his followers attack the election , the less likely Republican voters are to @ @ @ @ @ create an advantage for the Democratic Senate hopefuls .
Bethea spoke with Gabriel Sterling , @ @ @ @ @ ; Lin Wood , an attorney who is fuelling conspiracy theories ; and voters at @ @ @ @ @ .

Download a transcript.
Photograph by Jason Armond / Los Angeles Times / Getty
In the past month, a fracture has opened in the G.O.P. between those who grudgingly accept Joe Biden’s win and those who falsely claim that the election was rigged. In Georgia, supporters of Donald Trump have turned on Republican election officials—in some cases, with threats of violence. The Atlanta-based staff writer Charles Bethea explains why this rift is dangerous for Republicans. Georgia’s two incumbent Republican senators are being challenged in a runoff election in January; the G.O.P. needs to retain at least one of these seats to maintain its majority and give the Senate Majority Leader, Mitch McConnell, near-veto power over the Biden agenda. But the more that President Trump and his followers attack the election, the less likely Republican voters are to turn out to vote—which would create an advantage for the Democratic Senate hopefuls. Bethea spoke with Gabriel Sterling, an election official in Georgia; Lin Wood, an attorney who is fuelling conspiracy theories; and voters at a Trump rally in Valdosta.
Read More About the Presidential Transition


newyorker--2020-12-21--My Year in Takeout Orders

My Year in Takeout Orders

At the very beginning of the year , on one of my last trips out of Texas , I landed in New York from Houston for the second time in a week .
I was there on business .
And I met colleagues for an early dinner , and we hugged and then sat in a cramped , delicious Szechuan restaurant where I sneezed , once , into the crook of my arm , sipping loosely from both a milk tea and a Tsingtao .
Afterward , we went to a ceremony , where we shook many hands and gave @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ’ s faces and put our cups and bags and coats on tables , on the floor , squeezing past one another to step into a crowded amphitheatre .
At one point , a joke about impending illness was made onstage , and many people sitting in the audience laughed—whether from nervousness or ignorance or fear , or some ridiculous presumption of imperviousness , or maybe all of that , I don ’ t know .
After the ceremony , I turned down an invitation to a gay bar and walked back to @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
It was a weekday , and it was late , but people were out .
Everything glowed .
I bought some sweets from a food truck , and I ate them on a stoop beside a stranger .
He sipped from a cup of noodles .
We met eyes , and grinned , because weren ’ t we so lucky , to be here in the middle of everything ?
On a mostly traffic-less morning that felt crisp in the way Houston sometimes can , I ate out at a restaurant for @ @ @ @ @ @ @ was at Bò Né Houston , on Beechnut , maybe ten minutes from where I live .
My dude behind the cashier brought out the little skillet , sizzling with steak and eggs , surrounded by pâté , meatballs , veggies , and a pair of baguettes .
It was the coda of a tiny weekly ritual : this was the place I ’ d brought nearly anyone I felt strongly for , but once a week I made a point to pass through by myself .
I ’ d always arrive just @ @ @ @ @ @ @ were usually only a handful of other patrons there—a mother with her kids , some elderly men , pairs of guys grabbing a bite before the workday—and we ’ d nod one another ’ s way .
This morning , the matron had just finished wiping down a mural on the wall commemorating the year of the rat , and she asked me how it looked and I said it was fucking beautiful .
In March , when the pandemic and its attendant hell reached Houston ’ s general consciousness , and the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ anyone else in the country—had all but sworn off indoor dining , I coped with takeout kimchi—topped with cheese , and slathered over pork , and pancaked and slipped into a styrofoam container .
A trip to my usual place , Korean Noodle House , was the only nonessential venture I took outside my home : I was privileged to be able to work mostly remotely .
For weeks , the restaurant ’ s owners were the only folks I saw repeatedly , aside from my boyfriend .
We ’ d say hello @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the other was doing .
Sometimes , I ’ d sneak a bite on my way to the car , and this was the thing that catapulted me through the middle of the week and into the next .
In April , the news only grew bleaker , and I fell into a hole along with everyone else : the days rejected any attempt I made to mold them into a routine .
Cases continued to rise in Houston .
Legislation for widespread , lasting , tangible help felt unlikely .
I picked @ @ @ @ @ @ @ malls across Bellaire , and from tiny buildings beside Hong Kong City Mall—and the owners sighed at the news .
One said this would pass , because everything passes , as he counted the change I ’ d handed him .
Another , from the food truck Bánh Mì Hội An , said he couldn ’ t see it ever passing .
The news played from his window as he assembled sandwich after sandwich .
This is where we live now , he said , slathering butter across the bread .
My boyfriend @ @ @ @ @ @ @ of biryani and butter chicken from an Indian spot in a strip mall down the road .
A warm voice on the phone told us thirty minutes , so we arrived in twenty-five .
Five minutes passed , then fifteen , then forty-five .
The lobby pooled with other folks waiting , donning masks on their faces or bandanas around their necks , and one group of friends chewed silently in the back of the restaurant , suddenly squirming and eyeing the rest of us , peeking at the crowd .
Nearly two @ @ @ @ @ @ @ I got our orders—which we drove back home , under a cloud of doom and annoyance that , predictably , immediately , evaporated after our first bites .
Over the summer , in the evenings , I ate roti—from Banana Leaf , from Singapore Café—dipped in sauce and wrapped around meat grilled to a subtle char .
During the days , I ’ d drive to stand-ins and vigils and protests across the city , as thousands of Houstonians joined the nationwide movement against the state murders of Black folks .
After months @ @ @ @ @ @ @ too much personal space , it felt as if there wasn ’ t very much at all , but it was a warm feeling .
Everyone wore masks , and everyone made room for everyone else .
I took my takeout home , wrapped in aluminum foil , and it was delicious but bittersweet , a little like a dismal premonition .
One day , I was back at the register of Korean Noodle House .
( If the pandemic put them out of business , I would simply explode the sun .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ entrance I heard something , distinctly , fall .
Whatever it was landed directly next to a table of folks who were eating , their masks hanging from their chins .
It was a split-second decision , but without checking to see what had fallen I walked as quickly as I could out of the restaurant .
A few hours later , back at home , I reached for my wallet , and the realization clicked .
When I checked my phone , there was a missed call .
It was the restaurant @ @ @ @ @ @ @ d dropped my shit on the way out .
When I drove back there , a little later that evening , the owner and his son stood by the register , smiling .
The owner asked what had happened , handing my wallet over , nodding at whatever I was saying and then waving away my excuses , laughing .
O.K.
, O.K.
, he said , but you have to be careful .
We all have to be careful , especially now .
And then he laughed , again .
And I @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the bottom of my feet , for what might have been the first time in months .
One day , I ate a chicken sandwich from a strip-mall enclave called Krisp , huddled on the corner of Blalock Square Center , beside a Latinx grocery store and several auto-body shops .
I ’ d been driving when I saw the sign and turned around .
I can ’ t remember why now , but it felt like the worst day—sunny without the promise of anything on the other side of it , enough @ @ @ @ @ @ @ like a break in the routine .
After I ordered , I popped back out of the restaurant—dimly lit , spacious , with “ Itaewon Class ” playing from a screen above—and opened the sandwich in my car , and it was so excellent it brought me to the point of tears .
The pile of kimchi cheese fries beside it made me want to melt into the carport .

January
At the very beginning of the year, on one of my last trips out of Texas, I landed in New York from Houston for the second time in a week. I was there on business. And I met colleagues for an early dinner, and we hugged and then sat in a cramped, delicious Szechuan restaurant where I sneezed, once, into the crook of my arm, sipping loosely from both a milk tea and a Tsingtao. Afterward, we went to a ceremony, where we shook many hands and gave many hugs and talked in one another’s faces and put our cups and bags and coats on tables, on the floor, squeezing past one another to step into a crowded amphitheatre. At one point, a joke about impending illness was made onstage, and many people sitting in the audience laughed—whether from nervousness or ignorance or fear, or some ridiculous presumption of imperviousness, or maybe all of that, I don’t know. After the ceremony, I turned down an invitation to a gay bar and walked back to my hotel, passing through Times Square. It was a weekday, and it was late, but people were out. Everything glowed. I bought some sweets from a food truck, and I ate them on a stoop beside a stranger. He sipped from a cup of noodles. Our eyes met and we grinned, because weren’t we so lucky, to be here in the middle of everything?
February
On a mostly traffic-less morning that felt crisp in the way Houston sometimes can, I ate at a restaurant for just about the last time. It was at Bò Né Houston, on Beechnut, maybe ten minutes from where I live. My dude behind the cashier brought out the little skillet, sizzling with steak and eggs, surrounded by pâté, meatballs, veggies, and a pair of baguettes. It was the coda of a tiny weekly ritual: this was the place I’d brought nearly anyone I felt strongly for, but once a week I made a point to pass through by myself. I’d always arrive just after they’d opened. There were usually only a handful of other patrons there—a mother with her kids, some elderly men, pairs of guys grabbing a bite before the workday—and we’d nod one another’s way. This morning, the matron had just finished wiping down a mural on the wall commemorating the year of the rat, and she asked me how it looked and I said it was fucking beautiful.
March
In March, when the pandemic and its attendant hell reached Houston’s general consciousness, and the city—whose residents eat out more than almost anyone else in the country—had all but sworn off indoor dining, I coped with takeout kimchi, topped with cheese, slathered over pork, and pancaked and slipped into a styrofoam container. A trip to my usual place, Korean Noodle House, was the only nonessential venture I took outside my home: I was privileged to be able to work mostly remotely. For weeks, the restaurant’s owners were the only folks I saw repeatedly, aside from my boyfriend. We’d say hello, mime a wave, ask how the other was doing. Sometimes I’d sneak a bite on my way to the car, and this was the thing that catapulted me through the middle of the week and into the next.
2020 in Review New Yorker writers reflect on the year’s highs and lows.
April
In April, the news only grew bleaker, and I fell into a hole along with everyone else: the days rejected any attempt I made to mold them into a routine. Cases continued to rise in Houston. Legislation for widespread, lasting, tangible help felt unlikely. I picked up bánh mì in the afternoons—in strip malls across Bellaire, and from tiny buildings beside Hong Kong City Mall—and the owners sighed at the news. One said this would pass, because everything passes, as he counted the change I’d handed him. Another, from the food truck Bánh Mì Hội An, said he couldn’t see it ever passing. The news played from his window as he assembled sandwich after sandwich. This is where we live now, he said, slathering butter across the bread.
May
My boyfriend and I called in a few orders of biryani and butter chicken from an Indian spot in a strip mall down the road. A warm voice on the phone told us thirty minutes, so we arrived in twenty-five. Five minutes passed, then fifteen, then forty-five. The lobby pooled with other folks waiting, donning masks on their faces or bandanas around their necks, and one group of friends chewed silently in the back of the restaurant, suddenly squirming and eying the rest of us, peeking at the crowd. Nearly two hours after arriving, my guy and I got our orders—which we drove back home, under a cloud of doom and annoyance that, predictably, immediately, evaporated after our first bites.
June
Over the summer, in the evenings, I ate roti—from Banana Leaf, from Singapore Café—dipped in sauce and wrapped around meat grilled to a subtle char. During the days, I’d drive to stand-ins and vigils and protests across the city, as thousands of Houstonians joined the nationwide movement against the state murders of Black folks. After months of living with what felt like entirely too much personal space, it felt as if there wasn’t very much at all, but it was a warm feeling. Everyone wore masks, and everyone made room for everyone else. I took my takeout home, wrapped in aluminum foil, and it was delicious but bittersweet, a little like a dismal premonition.


newyorker--2020-12-21--The New COVID-19 Relief Package Is Flawed but Essential

Speaking on the Senate floor on Sunday , Chuck Schumer , the Minority Leader , said that the new COVID-19 spending bill that both parties have agreed on was “ far from perfect , but it will deliver genuine relief to a nation in the throes of a genuine emergency.
” Based on what we know so far about the package , which the House and Senate are expected to vote on Monday or Tuesday , that is a pretty fair description .
The bill will extend the emergency relief for small businesses and the jobless which Congress approved in @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to states for distributing vaccines and reopening schools .
That ’ s all to the good , but the bill also has some significant drawbacks .
Its best features are that it is large—roughly nine hundred billion dollars—and that most of the spending will be concentrated in the next few months , a period in which the majority of Americans still won ’ t have received a prick in the arm .
With the relentless spread of the coronavirus prompting more restrictive measures , jobless claims are rising again , and many small @ @ @ @ @ @ @ of renters and homeowners have fallen behind on their monthly payments .
If Congress had done nothing , the country would have faced a humanitarian disaster as well as an economic one in the New Year .
The biggest item in the new package is about two hundred and eighty billion dollars to extend the Paycheck Protection Program , which pays small businesses to keep people employed .
The next biggest article—at a cost of about a hundred and sixty-six billion dollars—is the direct payment of six hundred dollars to each American , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ dollars for individuals and a hundred and fifty thousand dollars for two-income families , after which the amount gradually phases out .
A working family of four under the threshold will receive twenty-four hundred dollars , which won ’ t be taxable .
Another hundred and twenty billion will go to extend and expand unemployment benefits , including those that the CARES Act provided to gig workers in March .
This time , though , the extra weekly payment is three hundred dollars instead of six hundred .
Together , these three measures @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the new funding .
The rest of the money will go to other programs associated with fighting the virus .
Eighty-two billion dollars will be directed at efforts to reopen schools ; forty-five billion will go to the stricken transportation sector , with twenty-nine billion to distributing vaccines and another twenty-nine billion to testing and tracing .
An additional sixty-five billion will be allocated to programs that provide nutrition , rental assistance , and child care for needy families .
As Schumer indicated , much of this money will end up in the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , which is obviously a good thing .
By raising the over-all level of demand in the economy , the new bill should also drive consumer spending and help prevent a double-dip recession .
In macroeconomic terms , the total amount of spending is hefty .
At approximately four per cent of G.D.P.
, it ’ s about half the size of the CARES Act and roughly comparable , relative to the size of the economy , to the American Recovery and Reinvestment Act of 2009 .
If you add it to the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ April , the over-all fiscal response to the pandemic comes to more than fifteen per cent of G.D.P .
That makes it the biggest peacetime spending blitz in U.S. history , which is perfectly appropriate .
The pandemic is probably the biggest shock that the U.S. economy has received in peacetime .
Large-scale disaster relief was essential , and interest rates are so low that the federal government hasn ’ t encountered any difficulty in financing it .
The weaknesses of the package are tied to the politics of getting a bill passed @ @ @ @ @ @ @ To keep the total cost of the package under a trillion dollars , which Senate Majority Leader Mitch McConnell demanded , unemployment benefits will only be extended for eleven weeks .
That means the new Congress will have to address the issue again , in March .
Economists will point out that some of the direct payments will go to people who don ’ t need them , but progressive Democrats and Trump were both demanding their inclusion .
The lack of direct budget aid to states and municipalities , which have seen @ @ @ @ @ @ @ problem that will need to be addressed this spring .
Because cities and states are on the front lines of confronting the virus , reopening schools , and organizing vaccinations , they will receive some financial aid for these particular tasks .
But more help will be needed to prevent another big round of layoffs of teachers , maintenance workers , and other public-sector employees as states try to balance their budgets .
Another problem with the package—which also applied to the CARES Act—is that it is heavily centered on the Paycheck Protection @ @ @ @ @ @ @ governments chose to address the pandemic by directly covering much or all of the payroll costs for businesses in badly affected sectors .
The Paycheck Protection Program is a government loan program that operates through banks .
As of August , the program had handed out more than five million loans , which in most cases don ’ t have to be repaid .
But many small-business owners have complained that they had difficulty in accessing the money .
Despite the program ’ s small-business targets , some of the firms that received @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ones , and others were associated with elected officials and members of the Trump Administration , including Donald Trump and Jared Kushner .
According to initial reports , the new spending bill accentuates this inequity by introducing a big tax break for wealthy owners of businesses that previously received money under the program .
Even though the government covered most of the costs that these business owners faced as a result of the pandemic , they will still be able to deduct some of those costs from their taxes , which means that @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Even Treasury Secretary Steven Mnuchin has said that this would be a bad idea , and Adam Looney , a senior fellow at the Brookings Institution , has warned that it could deliver a windfall of a hundred and twenty billion dollars in tax savings to members of the top one per cent .
But a version of this giveaway still made it into the final bill .
A final problem with the bill is that it only extends the federal moratorium on evictions through the end of January , leaving the onus @ @ @ @ @ @ @ action .
This and other clauses of the bill seem to have been designed to win the votes of senators , particularly Republicans , who are beholden to wealthy campaign donors—an all too familiar problem .
In the final analysis , though , the new spending package should help keep the economy afloat until vaccinations are widely available .
Its finalization was necessary and welcome .
More on the Coronavirus • To protect American lives and revive the economy , Donald Trump and Jared Kushner should listen to Anthony Fauci rather than trash @ @ @ @ @ @ @ students to conceive of appropriate school-reopening plans .
It is not too late to ask what they really want .
• A pregnant pediatrician on what children need during the crisis .
• Trump is helping tycoons who have donated to his reëlection campaign exploit the pandemic to maximize profits .
• Meet the high-finance mogul in charge of our economic recovery .
• The coronavirus is likely to reshape architecture .
What kinds of space are we willing to live and work in now ?

Speaking on the Senate floor on Sunday, Chuck Schumer, the Minority Leader, said that the new COVID-19 spending bill that both parties have agreed on was “far from perfect, but it will deliver genuine relief to a nation in the throes of a genuine emergency.” Based on what we know so far about the package, which the House and Senate are expected to vote on Monday or Tuesday, that is a pretty fair description. The bill will extend the emergency relief for small businesses and the jobless which Congress approved in March, and also provide more money to states for distributing vaccines and reopening schools. That’s all to the good, but the bill also has some significant drawbacks.
Its best features are that it is large—roughly nine hundred billion dollars—and that most of the spending will be concentrated in the next few months, a period in which the majority of Americans still won’t have received a prick in the arm. With the relentless spread of the coronavirus prompting more restrictive measures, jobless claims are rising again, and many small businesses are facing existential challenges. Millions of renters and homeowners have fallen behind on their monthly payments. If Congress had done nothing, the country would have faced a humanitarian disaster as well as an economic one in the New Year.
The biggest item in the new package is about two hundred and eighty billion dollars to extend the Paycheck Protection Program, which pays small businesses to keep people employed. The next biggest article—at a cost of about a hundred and sixty-six billion dollars—is the direct payment of six hundred dollars to each American, with an earnings cap of seventy-five thousand dollars for individuals and a hundred and fifty thousand dollars for two-income families, after which the amount gradually phases out. A working family of four under the threshold will receive twenty-four hundred dollars, which won’t be taxable. Another hundred and twenty billion will go to extend and expand unemployment benefits, including those that the CARES Act provided to gig workers in March. This time, though, the extra weekly payment is three hundred dollars instead of six hundred.
Together, these three measures will account for more than two-thirds of the new funding. The rest of the money will go to other programs associated with fighting the virus. Eighty-two billion dollars will be directed at efforts to reopen schools; forty-five billion will go to the stricken transportation sector, with twenty-nine billion to distributing vaccines and another twenty-nine billion to testing and tracing. An additional sixty-five billion will be allocated to programs that provide nutrition, rental assistance, and child care for needy families.
As Schumer indicated, much of this money will end up in the hands of people who badly need it, which is obviously a good thing. By raising the over-all level of demand in the economy, the new bill should also drive consumer spending and help prevent a double-dip recession. In macroeconomic terms, the total amount of spending is hefty. At approximately four per cent of G.D.P., it’s about half the size of the CARES Act and roughly comparable, relative to the size of the economy, to the American Recovery and Reinvestment Act of 2009. If you add it to the measures that Congress took in March and April, the over-all fiscal response to the pandemic comes to more than fifteen per cent of G.D.P. That makes it the biggest peacetime spending blitz in U.S. history, which is perfectly appropriate. The pandemic is probably the biggest shock that the U.S. economy has received in peacetime. Large-scale disaster relief was essential, and interest rates are so low that the federal government hasn’t encountered any difficulty in financing it.
The weaknesses of the package are tied to the politics of getting a bill passed on a bitterly divided Capitol Hill. To keep the total cost of the package under a trillion dollars, which Senate Majority Leader Mitch McConnell demanded, unemployment benefits will only be extended for eleven weeks. That means the new Congress will have to address the issue again, in March. Economists will point out that some of the direct payments will go to people who don’ t need them, but progressive Democrats and Trump were both demanding their inclusion. The lack of direct budget aid to states and municipalities, which have seen their tax bases hammered, is another problem that will need to be addressed this spring. Because cities and states are on the front lines of confronting the virus, reopening schools, and organizing vaccinations, they will receive some financial aid for these particular tasks. But more help will be needed to prevent another big round of layoffs of teachers, maintenance workers, and other public-sector employees as states try to balance their budgets.
Another problem with the package—which also applied to the CARES Act—is that it is heavily centered on the Paycheck Protection Program. In other developed countries, governments chose to address the pandemic by directly covering much or all of the payroll costs for businesses in badly affected sectors. The Paycheck Protection Program is a government loan program that operates through banks. As of August, the program had handed out more than five million loans, which in most cases don’t have to be repaid. But many small-business owners have complained that they had difficulty in accessing the money. Despite the program’s small-business targets, some of the firms that received loans turned out to be very large ones, and others were associated with elected officials and members of the Trump Administration, including Donald Trump and Jared Kushner.
According to initial reports, the new spending bill accentuates this inequity by introducing a big tax break for wealthy owners of businesses that previously received money under the program. Even though the government covered most of the costs that these business owners faced as a result of the pandemic, they will still be able to deduct some of those costs from their taxes, which means that the taxpayer will effectively pay them—twice. Even Treasury Secretary Steven Mnuchin has said that this would be a bad idea, and Adam Looney, a senior fellow at the Brookings Institution, has warned that it could deliver a windfall of a hundred and twenty billion dollars in tax savings to members of the top one per cent. But a version of this giveaway still made it into the final bill.
A final problem with the bill is that it only extends the federal moratorium on evictions through the end of January, leaving the onus on the Biden Administration to take further action. This and other clauses of the bill seem to have been designed to win the votes of senators, particularly Republicans, who are beholden to wealthy campaign donors—an all too familiar problem. In the final analysis, though, the new spending package should help keep the economy afloat until vaccinations are widely available. Its finalization was necessary and welcome.
More on the Coronavirus


newyorker--2020-12-21--How to Say I Love You, Freshly

How to Say I Love You, Freshly

Anyway , my mom is , like , a nerd of Christ .
One of the things she does that I admire is that she takes the consumerism out of Christmas .
She either does no presents or she does presents “ under five dollars.
” I don ’ t know if you ’ ve ever tried purchasing a gift for less than five dollars , but it ’ s a lot of secondhand bars of soap and half-eaten boxes of cereal .
She usually ends up stopping by CVS and grabbing some bargain-bin stuff , and I ’ m @ @ @ @ @ @ @ always just gets me a journal .
On a recent visit to my parents , my mom gave me a new journal , and privately I wrote down this in it : During the pandemic , my wife , Jen , and I tried out ordering these meals that were ready-to-eat—basic fresh food , like chicken and rice and a vegetable , that you just stick in an oven for twenty minutes .
The service is called Freshly , which I think is a terrible name for a really good product .
I @ @ @ @ @ @ @ suspicious .
As if to say , “ it ’ s not fresh , but it is fresh .
.
.
ly.
” It ’ s like calling it “ tasty-kind-of ” or “ not-spoiled-ly.
” I tried Freshly because I saw Michael Che casually mention on Instagram that he eats their meals .
Here ’ s what ’ s strange about that .
I know Michael Che .
We ’ re both comics and have been friendly for a while , and then he got famous and now I ’ m more @ @ @ @ @ @ @ think is related to me not telling my parents that I love them .
Your parents are like your family members who got famous , except instead of getting famous they just became grandparents .
Which is all to say that my mom is “ family famous.
” But that ’ s not the point .
I mean , honestly , why don ’ t I tell my parents I love them ?
I ’ m trying to game out the worst-case scenario .
Scenario 1 : I say , “ Mom and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ don ’ t respond and keep watching “ Hannity ” or doing whatever they ’ re doing .
They die eventually .
Scenario 2 : I say , “ Mom and Dad , I love you.
” They say , “ Michael , we have something to tell you .
We actually don ’ t love you.
” I think to myself , Something always did seem weird .
They die eventually .
But the key factor there is that I always felt like something was weird , and unresolved feelings aren ’ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ in your pancreas .
Which , by the way , don ’ t forget to tell your pancreas that you love it , even if you don ’ t quite understand what it does .
( Quick high-school-bio refresher : Your pancreas creates enzymes that break down sugars , fats , and starches .
Sounds like someone owes an “ I love you ” to their pancreas . )
O.K.
, back to the “ I love you ” scenarios .
I want to point out that the constant in all of these @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Scenario 3 : I say , “ Mom and Dad , I love you , ” and my mom starts singing the Tina Turner classic “ What ’ s Love Got to Do with It , ” which is a great song that my mom does love .
So this scenario is not entirely inconceivable , especially since the song came out in 1984 and the sound of it used to bleed through the walls as I tried to read Highlights magazine in the Gloria Stevens waiting room while my mom took her @ @ @ @ @ @ @ this scenario isn ’ t bad .
It ’ s just confusing .
Let ’ s invert the game and imagine you don ’ t tell your parents you love them .
Non-Love Scenario 1 : You don ’ t say I love you .
They die eventually .
You regret this for the rest of your life .
I don ’ t think any more non-love scenarios are necessary .
You get the idea .
One argument I heard from my friend Tom is that they know .
This is a classic @ @ @ @ @ @ @ once in a while , when I was a kid , my parents would say a variation of “ I love you , ” but it wouldn ’ t be in their real voices .
It would be : “ We wub you.
” It ’ s not the same thing .
And , by the way , “ we wub you ” came out only when things were dire .
This was the break-glass-in-case-of-emergency type of situation .
This was when I was crying .
A lot .
Like when my childhood @ @ @ @ @ @ @ a motorcycle and I could barely speak or breathe .
My parents said , “ We wub you.
” Anyway , I decided to get Freshly for my parents , who are the Michael Che of my life , and they received meals for a while , but I never heard back from them .
This goes on for , like , a month .
Finally , I said to my mom on the phone , “ Mom , how ’ d you like those Freshly meals Jen and I sent ?
” @ @ @ @ @ @ @ long .
Clearly something had gone down with the Freshly meals .
“ Mom , did they get to you ?
” I said , “ Mom , are you there ?
” My mom said , “ Yes !
I ’ m here , Michael .
.
.
.
” I said , “ Mom , it ’ s O.K .
if you didn ’ t like the Freshly meals.
” She said , “ We didn ’ t like the Freshly meals.
” I said , “ Mom , it ’ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ t like the Freshly meals .
I ’ m just surprised .
They ’ re so basic .
It ’ s just fresh chicken.
” She said , “ They ’ re too fancy.
” I knew what she meant .
Though some of the meals were chicken and rice or chicken and macaroni and cheese , you might also get chicken vindaloo , which is an Indian dish that could be interpreted as “ fancy.
” I said , “ Mom , I will cancel it and get you something else.
” @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the world was off my mom ’ s Christian shoulders .
It felt as if this was something she had grappled with for weeks .
She told me the truth even though it was uncomfortable .
It was as though she ’ d told me she loved me .

My mom is a Christian, but she follows this bizarro, eccentric branch of Christianity that emulates Christ. Yeah, I know, it’s weird. They work with food banks and halfway houses and help the local homeless population—the kind of stuff that Jesus would do, if he were still alive, when he wasn’t cleaning up in the stock market.
Anyway, my mom is, like, a nerd of Christ.
One of the things she does that I admire is that she takes the consumerism out of Christmas. She either does no presents or she does presents “under five dollars.”
I don’t know if you’ve ever tried purchasing a gift for less than five dollars, but it’s a lot of secondhand bars of soap and half-eaten boxes of cereal.
She usually ends up stopping by CVS and grabbing some bargain-bin stuff, and I’m easy to shop for, because she always just gets me a journal. On a recent visit to my parents, my mom gave me a new journal, and privately I wrote down this in it:
One of the things I wish I could do for my parents is: a. Tell them I love them. b. Do anything that indicates that I love them.
During the pandemic, my wife, Jen, and I tried out ordering these meals that were ready-to-eat—basic fresh food, like chicken and rice and a vegetable, that you just stick in an oven for twenty minutes.
The service is called Freshly, which I think is a terrible name for a really good product. I think the “-ly” is very suspicious. As if to say, “it’s not fresh, but it is fresh . . . ly.” It’s like calling it “tasty-kind-of” or “not-spoiled-ly.”
I tried Freshly because I saw Michael Che casually mention on Instagram that he eats their meals. Here’s what’s strange about that. I know Michael Che. We’re both comics and have been friendly for a while, and then he got famous and now I’m more reluctant to call him, which I think is related to me not telling my parents that I love them. Your parents are like your family members who got famous, except instead of getting famous they just became grandparents. Which is all to say that my mom is “family famous.”
But that’s not the point.
I mean, honestly, why don’t I tell my parents I love them?
There’s no downside.
I’m trying to game out the worst-case scenario.
Scenario 1: I say, “Mom and Dad, I love you.” They don’t respond and keep watching “Hannity” or doing whatever they’re doing. They die eventually.
Scenario 2: I say, “Mom and Dad, I love you.” They say, “Michael, we have something to tell you. We actually don’t love you.” I think to myself, Something always did seem weird. They die eventually. But the key factor there is that I always felt like something was weird, and unresolved feelings aren’t helping anything except the cancer growing in your pancreas. Which, by the way, don’t forget to tell your pancreas that you love it, even if you don’t quite understand what it does. (Quick high-school-bio refresher: Your pancreas creates enzymes that break down sugars, fats, and starches. Sounds like someone owes an “I love you” to their pancreas.)
O.K., back to the “I love you” scenarios. I want to point out that the constant in all of these scenarios is: They die eventually.
Scenario 3: I say, “Mom and Dad, I love you,” and my mom starts singing the Tina Turner classic “What’s Love Got to Do with It,” which is a great song that my mom does love. So this scenario is not entirely inconceivable, especially since the song came out in 1984 and the sound of it used to bleed through the walls as I tried to read Highlights magazine in the Gloria Stevens waiting room while my mom took her aerobics class. The point is: this scenario isn’t bad. It’s just confusing.
Let’s invert the game and imagine you don’t tell your parents you love them.
Non-Love Scenario 1: You don’t say I love you. They die eventually. You regret this for the rest of your life.
I don’t think any more non-love scenarios are necessary. You get the idea.
One argument I heard from my friend Tom is that they know. This is a classic approach to the non-love-you strategy.
Every once in a while, when I was a kid, my parents would say a variation of “I love you,” but it wouldn’t be in their real voices. It would be: “We wub you.”
It’s not the same thing.
And, by the way, “we wub you” came out only when things were dire. This was the break-glass-in-case-of-emergency type of situation. This was when I was crying. A lot. Like when my childhood dog, Leo, got hit by a motorcycle and I could barely speak or breathe. My parents said, “We wub you.”
Anyway, I decided to get Freshly for my parents, who are the Michael Che of my life, and they received meals for a while, but I never heard back from them.
This goes on for, like, a month.
Finally, I said to my mom on the phone, “Mom, how’d you like those Freshly meals Jen and I sent?”
There was a long pause. Too long. Clearly something had gone down with the Freshly meals.
“Mom, did they get to you?”
No response.
I said, “Mom, are you there?”
My mom said, “Yes! I’m here, Michael. . . . ”
Then she paused.
I said, “Mom, it’s O.K. if you didn’t like the Freshly meals.”
She said, “We didn’t like the Freshly meals.”
I said, “Mom, it’s O.K. that you didn’t like the Freshly meals. I’m just surprised. They’re so basic. It’s just fresh chicken.”
She said, “They’re too fancy.”
I knew what she meant. Though some of the meals were chicken and rice or chicken and macaroni and cheese, you might also get chicken vindaloo, which is an Indian dish that could be interpreted as “fancy.”
I said, “Mom, I will cancel it and get you something else.”
It felt as if the weight of the world was off my mom’s Christian shoulders. It felt as if this was something she had grappled with for weeks. She told me the truth even though it was uncomfortable.
It was as though she’d told me she loved me.


newyorker--2020-12-21--What the Era of Trump and the Coronavirus May Teach America’s Children

But I also wonder if , beyond these lamentable circumstances , young people are learning some extremely valuable lessons .
I ’ m thinking specifically of first graders , who are young enough to be impressionable yet old enough to grasp the essential meaning of the broad experiences they are both having and witnessing .
Are they learning formative lessons that , long ago , my generation initially missed out on ?
Lessons that humankind is desperately in need of ?
I entered the first grade in 1949 .
Leaving aside the limiting educational aspects of the era ( overcrowded @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ) , the larger point concerns the culture , the nation , and the world into which I was being initiated .
It was a world of postwar America triumphant .
The United States was not only the most powerful country but also the most virtuous .
In that double claim—power linked to virtue—lay our true distinction .
And that superiority didn ’ t just pertain at the national level .
As first graders were programmed to see it , the adults in our lives were uniformly trustworthy : parents were reliable authority @ @ @ @ @ @ @ classroom—their word was absolute .
The world was ordered as tidily as the new suburban lawns sprouting everywhere .
Or , at least , it was if you were white and middle class and male .
My school was in Arlington , Virginia , a place still tied more to Robert E. Lee than to the D.C. commute .
It was a parochial school , but legally segregated .
That the experience of Black Americans went largely unnoted by whites in most parts of the country at that time is an essential part @ @ @ @ @ @ @ filter is precisely what enabled the perception of America as virtuous and all-powerful .
That twin nobility was captured in the slogan “ For God and Country , ” or , as we Catholics preferred , Pro Deo et Patria .
Another child likely entering first grade around that time was Joe Biden .
( He and I differ in age by two months . )
His world , even in Scranton , Pennsylvania , was probably much like mine .
His family , too , was Irish-Catholic-American and almost certainly would have @ @ @ @ @ @ @ It was a dependable belief system that , suddenly , we needed more than before , because , just as that first-grade year began , children learned that the world was full of danger .
We didn ’ t yet have a television in my house , but I remember the bread-box-size Philco radio from which the word came that the Soviet Union had detonated an atomic bomb .
( The explosion had occurred in late August , but President Harry Truman made it public only in September . )
The apocalyptic buzz @ @ @ @ @ @ @ achievement was my initiation into the cult of the evening news .
The era ’ s mantra of terror was “ the Reds have the bomb , ” and , emboldened by it , at the end of our first-grade year , they had come after us in a faraway place named Korea—my generation ’ s first war .
This enemy was especially dangerous , children were told , because Asians did not value human life as much as we did .
This absurd claim was seriously offered as another example of American @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the structure of both international relations and our sense of ourselves .
If the infamous , generation-defining , under-the-desk atomic-bomb drills were scary , they served to indoctrinate kids not only in Soviet turpitude but also in the fantasy that nuclear war could be survived .
That notion , in turn , justified our nation ’ s nuclear posture .
Their bomb was evil .
Ours was good .
For fifteen cents and a box top from Kix cereal , General Mills would send you your own Atomic “ Bomb ” Ring .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ childhood ’ s decade , in 1960 , the United States , led by President Dwight Eisenhower , was caught lying .
The Soviets shot down an American airplane over their territory , which U.S. authorities claimed had been a weather plane that flew off course after suffering difficulties .
When Moscow , charging espionage , produced a captured C.I.A .
pilot , Francis Gary Powers , and the wreckage of his U-2 spy plane , our shock was complete .
Wasn ’ t the difference between the Reds and us the fact @ @ @ @ @ @ @ never did ?
Eisenhower ’ s deceit was an epiphany : the chill wind of realpolitik foretold the end of what we ’ d been taught since first grade .
The discrediting of our absolute faith in American moral grandeur defined my generation ’ s coming of age .
The next , seismic jolt was the murder of President John F. Kennedy , a flashing light of mad violence that warned of successive seasons of tragedy .
They ran for decades : the brutality of the sixties ( dogs loosed on protesters in @ @ @ @ @ @ @ War ) , the lies of the seventies ( a war needlessly prolonged , Richard Nixon ’ s politics of deceit ) , the rampant inequalities set loose in the eighties ( Ronald Reagan ’ s fetishizing of the one per cent ) .
What had filled our heads in my generation ’ s first grade was the kindling , fuel , and matches for the moral and political conflagration that followed on that grandeur ’ s being debunked—the conflagration that burns hotter now than ever .
Today ’ s first graders know @ @ @ @ @ @ @ childhood .
Those myths of national nobility do not exist for them .
Their school experience is defined not by absolute authority figures in the classroom but by overwrought teachers trying to handle the demands of virtual instruction .
Children are on the front lines of the pandemic , and they know it : arguments about their schooling—in person ?
virtual ?
hybrid ?
—have become flash points .
At home , they may sense the fear and disorientation of parents dealing with job stresses , if not the stresses of joblessness .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ unvisited and alone , have died of the virus .
When children venture out of the house , wearing masks , they are encouraged to avoid encounters , whether with strangers or neighbors .
There are now more than three hundred thousand COVID-19 dead ; first graders are learning to count , and they understand that it ’ s a very big number .
Meanwhile , these children have only really known a Presidency of absolute falsehood and bullying .
Lying and bullying , of course , are the first offenses against which @ @ @ @ @ @ @ learn that millions of Americans are O.K .
with both .
They have seen Black Lives Matter demonstrations celebrated , and derided .
If they are well fed at home , they likely know ( from ad-hoc school food programs ) that some of their classmates do not have enough to eat .
They know , in sum , that the nation into which they are being initiated is deeply flawed .
Yet children are seeing other things , too .
Their teachers show up ; maintain their essential equilibrium ; and find @ @ @ @ @ @ @ let pupils feel their dedication and support coming through the screen .
Many parents are working from home on , say , a laptop in the kitchen , and their children watch them finding all kinds of ways to cope—a first glimpse of the effort it takes to keep a family afloat—while getting day care covered , meals prepared , and stories read at night .
My memories of postwar childhood in America won ’ t match Joe Biden ’ s in the particulars , but he has undergone his own version of @ @ @ @ @ @ @ he knows that today ’ s children are challenged in ways that we were not .
As President , he will be able to depend for instruction on the present education emergency from , among others , his wife , Jill Biden , who no doubt grasps its scale .
He can learn , too , from the Vice-President-elect , Kamala Harris , whose experience of American reckoning was shaped not only by being younger and a person of color but by being the child of parents who took her to its protests @ @ @ @ @ @ @ lesson could come from the children , who may well be ahead on the curves that matter most : the moral and the political .
The virus has rampaged around the globe , and that amounts , in effect , to this generation ’ s first geography lesson , bringing home in a way that is unique to it the truth that Americans are like people everywhere .
The virus knows nothing of nationalism .
Mortality is in the air : there are first graders everywhere on the planet , and they breathe @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , they will ask one another , “ Where were you during the COVID-19 pandemic ?
” They may recognize one another , beyond nationality , as the pandemic ’ s children .
Today ’ s American first graders , therefore , may be preparing for the long-overdue embrace of an unprecedented American vision : one that sees this nation as a part of a collective of human beings struggling to do their best for one another , no matter who we are or where we come from .
What could the old @ @ @ @ @ @ @ mean after this ?

I’m thinking about children during this era of the coronavirus and Donald Trump, and all the reasons there are to worry about them. The news warns about the human costs of remote learning: isolation, social deprivation, the dangers of excessive screen time to brain development. Taking into account disparities in at-home conditions, such as adequate access to laptops and reliable Wi-Fi, the intermittent shuttering of in-person education stands to gravely exacerbate economic inequality, with children of color paying the heaviest toll, while an overriding effect of this traumatic era on children across the board may be what is termed a learning deficit.
But I also wonder if, beyond these lamentable circumstances, young people are learning some extremely valuable lessons. I’m thinking specifically of first graders, who are young enough to be impressionable yet old enough to grasp the essential meaning of the broad experiences they are both having and witnessing. Are they learning formative lessons that, long ago, my generation initially missed out on? Lessons that humankind is desperately in need of?
I entered the first grade in 1949. Leaving aside the limiting educational aspects of the era (overcrowded classes, mindless discipline, rote learning), the larger point concerns the culture, the nation, and the world into which I was being initiated. It was a world of postwar America triumphant. The United States was not only the most powerful country but also the most virtuous. In that double claim—power linked to virtue—lay our true distinction.
And that superiority didn’t just pertain at the national level. As first graders were programmed to see it, the adults in our lives were uniformly trustworthy: parents were reliable authority figures; teachers were potentates of the classroom—their word was absolute. The world was ordered as tidily as the new suburban lawns sprouting everywhere.
Or, at least, it was if you were white and middle class and male. My school was in Arlington, Virginia, a place still tied more to Robert E. Lee than to the D.C. commute. It was a parochial school, but legally segregated. That the experience of Black Americans went largely unnoted by whites in most parts of the country at that time is an essential part of the story, but that excluding filter is precisely what enabled the perception of America as virtuous and all-powerful. That twin nobility was captured in the slogan “For God and Country,” or, as we Catholics preferred, Pro Deo et Patria.
Another child likely entering first grade around that time was Joe Biden. (He and I differ in age by two months.) His world, even in Scranton, Pennsylvania, was probably much like mine. His family, too, was Irish-Catholic-American and almost certainly would have taken for granted the God-and-country orthodoxy. It was a dependable belief system that, suddenly, we needed more than before, because, just as that first-grade year began, children learned that the world was full of danger.
We didn’t yet have a television in my house, but I remember the bread-box-size Philco radio from which the word came that the Soviet Union had detonated an atomic bomb. (The explosion had occurred in late August, but President Harry Truman made it public only in September.) The apocalyptic buzz sparked by Joseph Stalin’s startling achievement was my initiation into the cult of the evening news. The era’s mantra of terror was “the Reds have the bomb,” and, emboldened by it, at the end of our first-grade year, they had come after us in a faraway place named Korea—my generation’s first war. This enemy was especially dangerous, children were told, because Asians did not value human life as much as we did. This absurd claim was seriously offered as another example of American moral superiority.
That us-against-them bipolarity became the structure of both international relations and our sense of ourselves. If the infamous, generation-defining, under-the-desk atomic-bomb drills were scary, they served to indoctrinate kids not only in Soviet turpitude but also in the fantasy that nuclear war could be survived. That notion, in turn, justified our nation’s nuclear posture. Their bomb was evil. Ours was good. For fifteen cents and a box top from Kix cereal, General Mills would send you your own Atomic “Bomb” Ring.
Then, at the end of my childhood’s decade, in 1960, the United States, led by President Dwight Eisenhower, was caught lying. The Soviets shot down an American airplane over their territory, which U.S. authorities claimed had been a weather plane that flew off course after suffering difficulties. When Moscow, charging espionage, produced a captured C.I.A. pilot, Francis Gary Powers, and the wreckage of his U-2 spy plane, our shock was complete. Wasn’t the difference between the Reds and us the fact that they always lied, and we never did? Eisenhower’s deceit was an epiphany: the chill wind of realpolitik foretold the end of what we’d been taught since first grade.
The discrediting of our absolute faith in American moral grandeur defined my generation’s coming of age. The next, seismic jolt was the murder of President John F. Kennedy, a flashing light of mad violence that warned of successive seasons of tragedy. They ran for decades: the brutality of the sixties (dogs loosed on protesters in Birmingham, further assassinations, the Vietnam War), the lies of the seventies (a war needlessly prolonged, Richard Nixon’s politics of deceit), the rampant inequalities set loose in the eighties (Ronald Reagan’s fetishizing of the one per cent). What had filled our heads in my generation’s first grade was the kindling, fuel, and matches for the moral and political conflagration that followed on that grandeur’s being debunked—the conflagration that burns hotter now than ever.
Today’s first graders know nothing of the grand illusions of my childhood. Those myths of national nobility do not exist for them. Their school experience is defined not by absolute authority figures in the classroom but by overwrought teachers trying to handle the demands of virtual instruction. Children are on the front lines of the pandemic, and they know it: arguments about their schooling—in person? virtual? hybrid?—have become flash points. At home, they may sense the fear and disorientation of parents dealing with job stresses, if not the stresses of joblessness. They may have family members who, unvisited and alone, have died of the virus. When children venture out of the house, wearing masks, they are encouraged to avoid encounters, whether with strangers or neighbors. There are now more than three hundred thousand COVID-19 dead; first graders are learning to count, and they understand that it’s a very big number.
Meanwhile, these children have only really known a Presidency of absolute falsehood and bullying. Lying and bullying, of course, are the first offenses against which the young are firmly instructed—and now they learn that millions of Americans are O.K. with both. They have seen Black Lives Matter demonstrations celebrated, and derided. If they are well fed at home, they likely know (from ad-hoc school food programs) that some of their classmates do not have enough to eat. They know, in sum, that the nation into which they are being initiated is deeply flawed.
Yet children are seeing other things, too. Their teachers show up; maintain their essential equilibrium; and find ways, even on Zoom, to let pupils feel their dedication and support coming through the screen. Many parents are working from home on, say, a laptop in the kitchen, and their children watch them finding all kinds of ways to cope—a first glimpse of the effort it takes to keep a family afloat—while getting day care covered, meals prepared, and stories read at night.


newyorker--2020-12-21--Russian Hackers Disappointed to Find U.S. Government Already Disabled

WASHINGTON ( The Borowitz Report ) —Russian hackers attempting to disrupt the U.S. government were disappointed to discover that it had already been thoroughly disabled , the hackers have confirmed .
Expecting to find a well-oiled machine that they could impair , the hackers instead came upon a barely operational mess that had already suffered what appeared to be four years of degradation .
Dmitri X ( not his real name ) , was assigned to hack the Environmental Protection Agency ’ s computer systems and was “ shocked ” by the agency ’ s weakened condition .
“ My @ @ @ @ @ @ @ s database and delete all of the environmental regulations , ” he said .
“ There was nothing there left to delete.
” The hacker found similar evidence of sabotage at the Department of Justice , the Department of Education , and myriad other federal agencies .
“ To be honest , it was pretty disheartening , ” he said .
“ I was hired to cripple the U.S. government , but it ’ s clear that someone else got there first.
” The hacker could not identify who was behind the widespread @ @ @ @ @ @ @ had vast experience in driving large organizations into bankruptcy .
Read More Satire from the Borowitz Report • Dr. Fauci says that alcohol may help people survive coronavirus briefings .
• Scientists say that Earth is endangered by a new strain of fact-resistant humans .
• Obama proposes cancelling cable at the White House to get Trump to leave .
• Ivanka Trump applies for the job of daughter to Joe Biden .
• Queen Elizabeth II offers to restore British rule over the United States .
• Putin warns that the U.S. @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Get the Borowitz Report in your in-box .
Sign up for the newsletter .

WASHINGTON (The Borowitz Report)—Russian hackers attempting to disrupt the U.S. government were disappointed to discover that it had already been thoroughly disabled, the hackers have confirmed.
Expecting to find a well-oiled machine that they could impair, the hackers instead came upon a barely operational mess that had already suffered what appeared to be four years of degradation.
Dmitri X (not his real name), was assigned to hack the Environmental Protection Agency’s computer systems and was “shocked” by the agency’s weakened condition.
“My job was to access the E.P.A.’s database and delete all of the environmental regulations,” he said. “There was nothing there left to delete.”
The hacker found similar evidence of sabotage at the Department of Justice, the Department of Education, and myriad other federal agencies.
“To be honest, it was pretty disheartening,” he said. “I was hired to cripple the U.S. government, but it’s clear that someone else got there first.”
The hacker could not identify who was behind the widespread vandalism, but speculated that the culprit had vast experience in driving large organizations into bankruptcy.
Read More Satire from the Borowitz Report


newyorker--2020-12-21--The Immense Relief of Health-Care Workers Receiving the COVID-19 Vaccine

When Sam Foster , the chief nursing officer at Oxford University Hospitals , entered an I.C.U .
ward for COVID-19 patients for the first time , in April , she wore a long-sleeved gown , a plastic apron and hat , two pairs of gloves , rubber boots , and heavy-duty face protection that resembled a gas mask .
The layers made her almost unrecognizable—her name was scrawled across her apron as an identifier—except for her eyes , which are hazel and unusually bright .
“ The doors opened , and it was like a spaceship , ” she told @ @ @ @ @ @ @ think , Oh , god , what have I done ?
” Foster , who is forty-eight , oversees five thousand health-care workers across four hospitals in Oxfordshire .
In the early days of the pandemic , many of them worked the I.C.U .
in two-hour shifts , tagging in and out like runners in a relay .
When they emerged , they would carefully remove and dispose of their P.P.E.
, type up their notes , eat something , and prepare to do it all again .
The U.K. public was applauding @ @ @ @ @ @ @ P.M. , but the locals around Foster ’ s hospitals learned that the staff didn ’ t leave until 8:30 , and adjusted accordingly .
“ They lined the street , and they were banging their pans and cheering us out , ” she said .
“ Oh , god , it was amazing.
” That was April .
The eight months since have been gruelling and unrelenting .
Foster ’ s hospitals were filled to capacity .
The team lost several staff members to the virus ; two colleagues passed away in @ @ @ @ @ @ @ months , elective surgeries were paused .
“ Everything was focussed on COVID , ” Foster said .
In May , Foster helped set up one of the U.K. ’ s Nightingale hospitals—vast , makeshift spaces for overflow coronavirus patients , which went largely unused .
Soon after , she fell ill for a few days with mild flu-like symptoms .
She didn ’ t take a coronavirus test at the time , but , in July , she was turned down for the Oxford vaccine trial because antibodies in her blood indicated @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
All through this time , she continued to work long days alongside her staff .
For “ most of us , it ’ s a life-style choice , ” she said .
“ You ’ re never really off duty.
” This month , Foster learned that her trust had been selected as one of fifty hospital hubs across the U.K. that would begin dispensing the first doses of the vaccine .
Then , at the last minute , she learned that the hospital would be vaccinating many more patients than expected @ @ @ @ @ @ @ We had about seventy-two hours to work it through , ” she said .
Nobody slept the night before the vaccine arrived .
They went over their plans .
“ Have we got resuscitation ?
Anaphylaxis ?
All the clinical safety pieces ?
Are the communications right ?
Does everybody know their role ?
” Foster said .
Since December 2nd , when Britain issued emergency approval for Pfizer ’ s coronavirus vaccine , becoming the first Western country to do so , nurses , doctors , and hospital officials all over the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ daily vaccinations .
Joe Harrison , the chief executive at Milton Keynes University Hospital , not far from London , told me that the hospital has more positive patients now than it did during the first wave .
On the day we spoke , they had one critical-care bed left available .
“ We ’ re effectively full , ” he said .
On Tuesday , December 8th , they began their vaccination drive , doling out a hundred and seventy-five doses .
“ We started off relatively slowly , ” he said @ @ @ @ @ @ @ how long each of the steps in the process would take.
” They are working toward the hub ’ s capacity , around seven hundred vaccinations per day .
Iain Davidson , the chief pharmacist at the Royal Cornwall Hospitals N.H.S .
Trust , a network of three hospitals at the far southwestern edge of the country , told me that his hub completed more than two hundred vaccinations on its first day , mostly care-home workers .
( One home bused in around fifty staffers . )
The day before vaccinations began @ @ @ @ @ @ @ with placebos .
Each vial contains several doses , all of which must be used .
“ Every dose is so precious , ” Davidson said .
David Walliker , the chief digital and partnerships officer at Oxford University Hospitals , had been working to get the right patients scheduled for their shot on the first day of vaccinations , Tuesday , the 8th .
On Monday night , “ We sent a text message out to thirty patients between eighty years old and ninety-four , ” he told me .
Within two @ @ @ @ @ @ @ booked .
Walliker had also been working with a small team to design the actual vaccination space , which occupies part of a top floor , normally reserved for teaching , at the Churchill Hospital in Oxford .
( They chose the Churchill because it has a freezer cold enough to store the Pfizer vaccine . )
There ’ s a room where patients check in , another where they ’ re vaccinated , and then “ they ’ re sent to a third room , where they wait for fifteen minutes and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ biscuit to make sure they don ’ t have any adverse reactions to the injection.
” Late Monday night , Walliker was still lugging chairs and setting up plastic shields .
“ It was all hands to deck to make sure we were ready , ” he said .
When the vaccine finally arrived , it came in a case that resembled a pizza box .
“ It ’ s like when the Coca-Cola van comes , you know—it ’ s here , ” Foster told me , on a video call from @ @ @ @ @ @ @ was here.
” They stored it carefully in the ultra-cold freezer .
On the first vaccination day , a small group of staffers gathered around a vial of the vaccine to learn how to make it ready for patients .
“ There were about eight or nine of us nurses , with some pharmacists , all looking at this tiny vial like we were all students , you know , in silence , ” she said .
When the inaugural patient , Nicholas Woodthorpe , arrived , Foster administered the first dose .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ she said , beaming .
Some recipients received the vaccine because their roles in health care are exceptionally intimate .
Barbara Lamb , a specialist nurse in the eye department at a hospital trust in Newcastle upon Tyne , received the vaccine on Tuesday , the 8th .
Lamb ’ s work includes close-contact care for patients with glaucoma and other eye conditions , which puts her at increased risk .
Lamb is sixty-eight and lives alone , though she takes care of her grandchildren a few times a week .
She commutes @ @ @ @ @ @ @ that winter has arrived , “ It ’ s dark when I go to work in the morning ; it ’ s dark when you come home , ” she said .
“ It can be quite a lonely existence.
” On the morning of her appointment , she learned that she would be the first of the nursing staff to be vaccinated .
Her photograph was taken .
“ It was all quite surreal , really , ” she told me .
She ’ s looking forward to seeing her sister , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ “ things that we ’ ve taken for granted.
” “ Just to be able to go out without your mask on and to give relatives a hug , ” she said .
“ To maybe call on someone you don ’ t see that often .
At the moment , you have to just wave from across the road.
” Stefan Chioariu , the deputy manager at Cecil Court , a care home in Kew , was one of the first people to receive the vaccine in London .
Cecil Court used @ @ @ @ @ @ @ for its residents , including flower arranging , yoga classes , and live concerts .
During the pandemic , everything has moved online , and visitors are banned inside the home .
On Thursday , December 10th , Chioariu visited St. George ’ s Hospital for his shot , despite some lingering fears from his wife about side effects .
“ Social media has amplified things , ” he said .
At his appointment , he was given a leaflet that said the vaccine would not cause him to catch the virus , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ kind of comforting.
” Other recipients had serious underlying health conditions .
Maia-Lisa Rand was one of the first to receive a vaccination at the Milton Keynes University Hospital hub two weeks ago .
Rand has worked for the N.H.S .
for forty years .
She ’ s now a clinical site manager at Milton Keynes .
When the U.K. government advised extremely vulnerable citizens to practice “ shielding ” early in the pandemic , Rand , who has a chronic lung condition , began working from home .
She has been isolating @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , with a brief stint back at the hospital in the summer and early fall , when cases were down .
“ I was desperate to actually go back to work , ” she told me .
“ I love my job.
” On Monday , the 7th , she received an e-mail asking if she would like to get the vaccine .
She scheduled one for Wednesday , at 8 A.M. ( “ I couldn ’ t book my appointment quick enough , ” she said . )
At the hospital , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ t seen in months .
“ In all , it took about forty minutes , and it was the best forty minutes I ’ ve spent , ” she said .
Hayley Smith and her husband , Jamie , connected in a clinic for patients with organ transplants years ago ; they have each received a new kidney .
Their shared condition puts them at a higher risk for the virus .
In March , her husband withdrew from work and she began working at home .
Smith has overseen a team of @ @ @ @ @ @ @ and palliative-care units at the Oxford University Hospitals for ten years .
Working from home was “ like having your right arm chopped off , ” she told me .
Hearing about her staff ’ s distress from afar has been painful .
“ Not being there in such a crisis , you do feel you ’ ve let your team down , ” she said .
On Thursday , the 10th , Smith ’ s manager called and asked if she ’ d like the vaccine .
She booked an appointment for @ @ @ @ @ @ @ really buzzy , and it was brilliantly organized , ” she said .
Foster , the nurse in Oxford , gave her the jab , and Smith chatted excitedly the whole way through .
“ I was , like , oh , a human being !
A real person !
” The shot was painless .
“ She was really gentle .
I didn ’ t feel a thing , ” Smith said .
“ It kind of just filled us with hope.
” Some of her colleagues were nearby , and “ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
“ We were like kids in a sweets shop.
” When Gavin Bowden , a spinal surgeon who has been self-isolating at home for several months because of underlying medical conditions , arrived at the Churchill hospital for his appointment , he found the scene similarly electric .
“ People weren ’ t going to worry how long they were waiting , ” he said .
“ People were really quite animated about it—there were people texting and people talking.
” The news had just broken that two N.H.S .
workers had @ @ @ @ @ @ @ vaccine , and a nurse in line next to him said that she was worried .
But Bowden had no such hesitations .
“ You just had a sense that actually here was the light at the end of the tunnel , ” he said .
Foster was in the hub that day ; she gave Bowden his shot .
By the end of the week , Foster was vaccinating about fifty patients a day .
She had recently received the vaccination herself .
Like many other frontline workers with whom I spoke @ @ @ @ @ @ @ harm ’ s way to protect others , Foster seemed to feel a little guilty about her own vaccination .
She was still worrying about everyone else .
“ The directive from the N.H.S .
was that , literally , if there is a bare-armed member of N.H.S .
staff that is available to take it , and you ’ ve got two or three left , they are not to be wasted , ” she told me .
“ So , over the course of the week , we searched for our @ @ @ @ @ @ @ had it.
” One evening , toward the end of the week , she couldn ’ t find anyone else to inoculate .
“ At nine o ’ clock at night , we were the only bare-armed people still around , ” she said .
“ So , I have had it.
” A previous version of this post mischaracterized the kinds of surgeries delayed as a result of the pandemic .
More on the Coronavirus • To protect American lives and revive the economy , Donald Trump and Jared Kushner should listen @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
• We should look to students to conceive of appropriate school-reopening plans .
It is not too late to ask what they really want .
• A pregnant pediatrician on what children need during the crisis .
• Trump is helping tycoons who have donated to his reëlection campaign exploit the pandemic to maximize profits .
• Meet the high-finance mogul in charge of our economic recovery .
• The coronavirus is likely to reshape architecture .
What kinds of space are we willing to live and work in now ?