At Ground Level

In spite of drastic state-imposed measures aimed at stopping the virus, it stormed on. Hospitals began to fill to capacity with the sick who struggled for every breath.

Most frightening was the death toll. In southeastern Michigan, many families lost several members within days or hours of each other including grandparents, parents, and grown children. As bad as that was, in an effort to prevent further spread of the virus, visitors were not permitted into hospitals to be with their sick or dying family members. Nurses wearing gowns, masks, face shields and gloves held cellphones or tablets for their patients so final goodbyes could be expressed with loved ones gathered in the parking lot or keeping vigil at home. News outlets updated daily the tragic and escalating number of positive test results and deaths attributed to COVID.

Supply chains became so disrupted that stores frequently sold out of basics such as toilet paper and bread along with the bleach, hand sanitizer, and facemasks that health officials and infectious disease experts instructed people to use. Empty shelves became the norm. Working with reduced staff, delivery trucks were frequently late or simply skipped stores at the end of their route after dispensing most of their products earlier. Store managers rationed essentials in an attempt to stop anxious shoppers from hoarding. When scarce items could be found online, their prices were usually inflated.

Families with little in savings and suddenly out of work struggled to cover daily expenses. Even many who had followed the advice of experts to prepare for the future, such as having the equivalent of six months of expenses in the bank plus retirement funds, spent down their cushion.

Many faced grave issues such as losing health insurance, missing rent and utility payments, and not having enough food, coupled with the humbling experience of needing to ask for help for the first time. With no experience, they struggled to figure out what assistance was available to them and how to apply for it. When expanded unemployment benefits kicked in, including benefits for independent contractors and “gig” workers, payments were often delayed, complicated by a system that was not prepared for the sudden surge of claims.

Requests for food, health care, burial aid, and housing support spiked. Families already facing homelessness had no way to safely isolate when the “Stay at Home” order was issued.

Family funds that might have gone for car repairs were shifted to more urgent needs such as food and rent. For those suddenly dealing with unreliable transportation, obtaining necessities became difficult or impossible, especially for residents living in the vast stretches of rural Michigan.

Being confined to home also meant men, women, and children living in abusive situations were left without the jobs, schools, or friends that offered them solace and safety in pre-pandemic times. Reports of domestic violence increased.

Even as COVID ravaged families in Southeast Michigan, the Upper Peninsula remained largely unaffected. But the shutdown was state-wide, so unemployment soared in UP communities including those that had no COVID cases. Michelle LaJoie, executive director of Community Action Alger Marquette in the Upper Peninsula, says COVID came into her part of the state when tourists and downstate residents with summer homes in the UP headed north across the Mackinac Bridge.

“They didn’t isolate properly when they arrived,” she recalls. “They brought it into our small communities, our stores, and they infected a number of people quickly.

As the dominos began to fall, more problems came to light.

More than 180 years after statehood, there remain substantial cultural and economic differences among Michigan residents, including one of the most recent divides: digital. Connectivity to technology platforms and global markets for many is instant, but as recent as February 2021, it was estimated that more than one million of the state’s households lack a permanent fixed broadband connection. And during the pandemic, technology was nearly as precious as water.

As bleak as it was, says Jill Sutton, executive director of Mid-Michigan Community Action, “…we tried to find the good in all of it.”