Everything is relative. My story of processing COVID-19.

“I cried because I had no shoes…until I met someone who had no feet.”
– Various attributions

I heard this quote many, many years ago, and I haven’t forgotten it. And I’m fortunate to have this quote front of mind, today, to shape my perspective.

The year 2020 began in an exciting fashion, with the launch of Wide Roots. Ecstatic for a new beginning, I made contacts, developed relationships, and tasted excellent, award-winning wines. The trip to Italy that would hard-launch the endeavor was planned for March 2020.

The world had different ideas. 

Through late February and early March, I watched the case count and death toll from COVID-19 in Italy on a daily basis. When the situation showed no signs of getting better, and with harsh stay-at-home orders issued, I postponed my trip at the last moment, indefinitely. I refuse to say I canceled it because there will be a silver lining to this.

As my mind processed this turn of events, I lamented the lousy timing of launching this venture. The worst time in 20 years (at that time…although now it is evident that it was probably the worst time in 100 years). And yes, admittedly, I felt sorry for myself.

Then, as the stay-at-home measures took effect in my home state of Maryland, and other states in our union, the bigger picture became much more vivid to me.

First, the thought of people getting sick, and possibly dying. Sisters, brothers, parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins. Friends. Colleagues. These are the people dying from the virus. We all have people in our lives who care about us, who we care for, and when it affects one of them, then we feel it.

Second, the thought of businesses shutting down indefinitely, or restaurants and bars scaling back to takeout-only. We have not experienced anything like this in our lifetimes. There will be people who do not get sick, but will hurt from this event in a different way. I live in a neighborhood where the bars and restaurants are owned by, and employ, friends and neighbors.

After the stay-at-home order was issued in Maryland, I thought of all the people who would be affected by the spread of the disease itself, and the consequences of the measures we are taking to fight it. My perspective changed. I have my health, physically. Financially, I am resourced due to the intersection of hard work and good fortune. 

There are many more people who will hurt more than me, because of COVID-19. 

I also applied the perspective of our strength as humans, and our ability to overcome dire circumstances. We do not know what the other side of COVID-19 looks like. But we do know that we must overcome it: the health effects and the economic ones. It’s not clear what that path looks like, making it ambiguous, and scary.

But I see the signs of innovation, of optimism. Of friends making masks in their homes. Of professional musicians, who once were dependent on playing live music in a room full of people, and who now use live streaming and requests for tips, providing a distraction to people who need it and making a living at the same time. Of the corner bar, who has developed a virtual wine tasting to float the establishment through an uncertain time.

On their own, these actions may not change the world. But collectively, they demonstrate the power of combining innovation with a sense of “togetherness”, which can still be accomplished even with distancing measures. A mask does not cover the looks in our eyes. We can make eye contact and recognize that we are in this together, and that we care for one another.

I’ve begun a side project to help friends and neighbors in the bar and restaurant businesses in the Baltimore area. I feel like I should be doing something in this moment to help, to be a friend. Our strength is in pulling together, and although physical distance now separates all of us, we share connections and kinship and friendship. 

While the launch of Wide Roots has slowed, it has not stopped and it will not stop. I remain in contact with winemakers in Italy, who are expressing some optimism about an improvement in the situation there. And I will continue to build the consumer-facing side of Wide Roots, and primarily in advancing my mission of making the world of imported wines less intimidating and more approachable to new consumers.

I admit that this shift in my mindset may be a coping mechanism. But it feels right, in the moment. That quote—”no shoes…no feet”—has been alive within me. And it seemed most appropriate to share, to hopefully infect us in a different, more positive way.

Stay safe and well.