After A Year Of Coronavirus In MA, Words Escape Me: Commentary

Social distancing….N95….Fauci...asymptomatic...contact tracing.

These are just some of the words and phrases that rarely appeared in Patch articles before Feb. 1, 2020. Since then, however, they have become regular fixtures in our news stories. Words are the primary tools we use to cover the news, and after Feb. 1, 2020 we had to learn how to use dozens of new tools.

Feb. 1, 2020 was a Saturday, and it was the day we reported on the first confirmed case of the coronavirus in Massachusetts. While it would be another six weeks before Gov. Charlie Baker shut down the state with another new phrase - “stay-at-home order” - February 1 was the day an international news story became an intensely-local story.

After the first reported COVID-19 death in Massachusetts on March 20, it wasn’t long before we started writing about “excessive death rate.” That was the difference between the number of people that had died in the state in 2020 when compared to earlier years. Other terrifying words and phrases creeped into our everyday reporting and writing: PPE shortage...positive test rate...ventilators...hospital surge capacity.

And, being a particularly squeamish person, I cringe every time I type “nasal swab.”

Not all the words we used to cover the coronavirus crisis were new — toilet paper, bleach, mask. But the pandemic forced them into a new context. They became loaded and highlighted the deep political divisions in the country hardest hit by the pandemic. We found new ways to use words to show Americans at their best (essential workers) and at their worst (Karens).

Other familiar words paired up in new combinations, giving them new meanings: contactless and delivery...doom and scrolling...online and funeral.

Work wasn’t the only place where the pandemic upended my vocabulary. At home, we’ve been using “germs” to simplify the pandemic for our daughter and explain why she couldn’t go to preschool, see her friends or have a big party for her fourth birthday in June. We were envious of another couple’s “quarantine pod” with their neighbors in Framingham. We’ve talked a lot more about "Scranton," the midway point to break up the 11-hour drive to Pittsburgh with an overnight stay — a drive we now have to make to see my wife’s family because we can’t fly.

In May, Gov. Baker unveiled a four-phase reopening plan and promised us it was the path to a “new normal.” The phrase felt like an ad executive’s attempt to make a bad product sound good before the prototype was even finished.

Besides, our efforts to feel “normal” have been ongoing since Feb. 1, 2020, but even normal — new or otherwise — has its own set of fresh terms: We now have “vote by mail” in politics and “hybrid learning” in schools and “dining igloos” constructed outside of restaurants.

Or, at least outside the restaurants that have the space and managed to stay open. About one out of every five Massachusetts restaurants have closed for good since the start of the coronavirus crisis. Many more are now in “hibernation” for the winter, and others will undoubtedly serve their last meals before we reach the "new normal."

It’s not the first time in my adult life leaders have used “new normal” to describe the status quo after a major paradigm shift in America. It’s the way we described heightened security in the years after the Sept. 11 terrorist attack. That new normal included reminders to “never forget” and “See something? Say something.”

"The process is complicated," Baker said when he outlined the four-phase reopening plan in May. "It's gradual, and it requires an incredible amount of patience." The fourth phase was even called “The New Normal” and we were told it would arrive when a vaccine had been developed.

The vaccines are here ahead of schedule, and along with them, another set of new phases and phrases, including “federal allotment” and “mass vaccination site” and “vaccine rollout” (which Baker last week said was “frustrating,” while state lawmakers called it a “debacle”).

The vaccines are here ahead of schedule, but things still don’t feel all that normal.

Dave Copeland is Patch's deputy managing editor for Massachusetts, New Hampshire and Rhode Island. He can be reached at dave.copeland@patch.com or by calling 617-433-7851. Follow him on Twitter (@CopeWrites) and Facebook (/copewrites).