If We Were Having a Cup of Coffee, I’d Tell You…

It’s just after noon here in Georgia and I’m sipping on a cold brew from the town’s local coffee shop. Sitting (socially distanced) here a few mornings a week has quickly become one of my favorite parts of being stationary in a new place — it feels close to “normal” and that, in itself, fills me with immense gratitude. (Good coffee doesn’t hurt either!)

I was thinking about what I wanted to write today and figured — it’s been a while. Let’s catch up. If you were sitting with me, I’d tell you: 

1. Three weeks ago, I drove 40 hours across the country from Berkeley, California to Hartwell, Georgia. My route took me through California, Arizona, New Mexico, Texas, Louisiana, Mississippi, Alabama, and Georgia in three days. (I wouldn’t recommend doing a drive of this scope that fast alone. It was NOT my favorite three days of this trip.) 

2. It was worth it though! I was able to enjoy Memorial Day weekend before settling into another “new normal” routine here in Georgia. I decided to drive across the country so I’d return to having uninterrupted full-time hours to dedicate to the project. (As much as I loved caring for my niece and miss her/my sister dearly, there’s no way I could also make full-time hours when you’re sharing a one-bedroom apartment with two other adults and a toddler.) Now, I have a dedicated office and hours-long stretches of dedicated work time every single day. 

3. Driving across the country during a global pandemic was a strange experience. Before I headed out on the road, I’d spent two months “safe at home” in California. I’d barely stepped foot in a store since March and had only been in the car once or twice. Getting behind the wheel made me feel like I was a new driver once again: moving 25 miles an hour felt like 50 for the first hour I was driving.

4. Being on the road felt immensely different from when I got off the road in March. Everything from mask usage to adherence to CDC guidelines varied greatly, both state to state and between rural and urban areas. Example: in New Mexico, masks were required and when I stopped to get gas, every person was wearing masks. When I crossed over to Texas, I passed through a border patrol checkpoint and no one was wearing masks. I progressed further into Texas and stopped for gas, no CDC guidelines were being adhered to in that small town truck stop. Both were jarring experiences, completely different ends of the spectrum. 

5. In rural Georgia, adherence to CDC guidelines vary immensely and have seemingly declined over the past three weeks. Nearly everything is back open and seemingly “back to normal” in this area — the county I’m staying in has seen 43 documented cases of COVID-19 over the past two months. Approximately 5 to 10% of people I see out in public are wearing masks. Some stores have signage that indicates masks are recommended, or asks patrons to let their staff know if they’d prefer staff wears masks/gloves. The general mood appears to be “business as usual.” 

6. I covered six protests in seven days during the first week of June. These protests, held in solidarity with the Black Lives Matter movement, were held in Atlanta, Athens, Seneca, Anderson, Hartwell, and Elberton. I captured stories via video, audio, and photographs during each of the events and often found myself overwhelmed with gratitude that I have been trusted to share these stories. The demonstrations were largely peaceful and many of them had continuous dialogue between protestors and present law enforcement. 

7. I’ve spent three days so far conducting long-form interviews with members of the local police department in a series of ride-alongs. I have learned so much about community policing efforts, deescalation, and other policy initiatives in action that I’m currently processing to share with you. As with everything I’ve done in this project, I think that there are multiple sides to every story and I want to share all I learn along the way. 

8. I miss being on the road. (I have to say it.) I know that I’m not alone in craving a return to “normal,” and I’m also not naive in believing that “normal” in the way I knew it truly exists anymore. But I miss the routine of travel, of meeting new people, of listening and capturing stories. There is plenty I love of being stationary, but I am itching to stop living in “flux” and complete the work I set out to do. 

9. That said, I am constantly looking for silver linings. I was able to spend more than a month with my niece, which is time I wouldn’t give up for anything. I have been able to truly assess my progress and where I want to take this project from here. I have been given a more deep look into the places I’ve been staying since I don’t move on in a blink of an eye. I am choosing to see this time is as another opportunity to capture a new side of the United States; no one is ever going to be able to say that this year on the road has been boring! 

10. Where do I go from here? There are more questions than answers when I start to think about how to complete the back half of this project. I have 24 states left, which is approximately six more months on the road, but like everyone — there is no clear timeline about when it will be safe to resume travel. It’s a tricky balance between public health and personal safety, and it’s one I continue to weigh daily as I think about the road ahead.