Three years ago, I experienced one of the most unsettling moments of my adult life. I’m walking down the street with my then 9-month-old daughter in a stroller. And I’m afraid. Afraid of my neighbors, especially the runners, sharing the sidewalk with me and my baby. Those were the early days, when masks were not required and even if they were, who runs with a mask on? We were trapped in our apartment and that simple beautiful thing of taking a baby for a walk left me fraught with anxiety. So we left our idyllic Carroll Gardens neighborhood for a beachfront golf resort in South Carolina. Not at all my vibe but I was desperate to keep space free from others—a protection Brooklyn could not provide.

I spent months shuttling back and forth between the Carolinas and Brooklyn. I even bought a car, something I believed I would never do. In this way, the pandemic was dramatically reshaping my identity. Runners don’t wear masks, and urbanists don’t own cars. Who was I becoming?

It was during this time that I began contemplating leaving New York. I was working from home like everyone else, and with a baby and caregiver in the adjacent room. Although my neighborhood had never felt more important, I felt deeply disconnected from my city, a place I had dreamed of belonging to since I, myself, had been a little girl. Six months into the pandemic, I got news of an opening at Open House New York, a mission-driven organization I had been attached to since its founding in 2001, shortly after I had finally become a New Yorker. OHNY unlocks the city, offering New Yorkers and visitors behind-the-scenes access to places across the five boroughs that are both little-known and globally recognized. I knew immediately that the job was a calling: a gateway to reconnect to my city in a profound way, something I desperately needed and longed to give to my daughter. I decided with startling clarity and ease that if I didn’t get the job, I would leave.

The pandemic turns three this month and I’m celebrating my two-year anniversary at OHNY. Over the past two months, we have been inundated with requests to partner with organizations of all stripes—places and institutions that recognize the profound importance of bringing our fellow New Yorkers back out into the city again—its streets, public spaces, cultural and community anchors like libraries and museums that have never felt more vital to the diversity of experiences that comes from living in the greatest city in the world. These requests remind me of what New York was like in the aftermath of 9/11, when the city defiantly rejected the knee-jerk reaction to close its doors. But it’s also a dramatically different time. A time coinciding with massive protests and reckoning around persistent and stark inequalities, infused with an energy and righteousness that I cannot quite describe. Residents from every corner of the city are only beginning to share their stories about what it means to belong and thrive here. And they are stories I am desperate to hear.

Silver Linings

I quote that I wrote:

2020 made us stronger.

I’ll tell you why from the glint in my mind’s eye, and won’t hold back the good news any longer.

(Again I quote)

We survivors wrestled and tussled and protected the vote

Yet beyond the obvious, I suggest the onslaught of the past year’s awakening, earth shattering 

Reckoning

Insurrection

New direction 

Dare I say self-reflection and 

resurrection 

Lies an opportunity for refining 

Let’s bring forth 

my defining of the year of the silver lining

No other way to put it 

the pandemic led to words unsaid truths untold

which unfold 

like a book opening to a new chapter in our country’s troubled yet hopeful history of struggle,

But before you muzzle

hear me out

While I shout:

this has been year of the silver lining

Not only have I heard that expression used more in the past twelve months than anytime in my lifetime

But I find 

it curious and I’m serious 

when I say through all the muck and mire I witness people getting in touch with their 

Higher

Purpose?

The year of the silver lining

presented an unprecedented opportunity for some people to dive into life- long dreams

Finding-their place in the sun,

or in the kitchen

a new way of living-given

a new perspective on the reality of life and it’s ticking clock. 

So they took stock.

The year of the silver lining

had us come face to face with the undisputed reality of death as part of our collective journey giving us the strength and courage to step outside of fear

at least that’s what I hear

when folks share 

that they are looking toward the future in a new way

Taking risks, making moves,

putting fire under themselves

to propel 

past 2020 hell

Into what may have seemed like indulgence or a fantasy in 2019. 

Or something in between.

You know what I mean?

Some of this is what has brought us here. Here as the pendulum swings back and forth between our emergence out of the darkest of hours and a resurgence of another variant aimed to strip us of our new found power.

This is has been the ultimate test of faith in my 59 years 

straddling the line between possibility, hope and a trail of tears

The silver linings taught me 

How to walk past the dropping of bodies while simultaneously expressing gratitude for the abundance of blessings and gifts in my life

The silver linings

A year ripe for reinvention and reflection. 

Time to contemplate possibility. 

Front line workers maybe getting their due. That’s still up to me and you.

In between our own self indulgence of making our own dreams come true

as a people we’ll shine when all boats are lifted and when we get into good trouble and put to good use a troubled year gifted with silver linings. What does all this mean?

I’ll leave it up to you for defining. 

Saundra

Three years seems impossible, it feels like yesterday.

I remember when we all went home that the whole “world shutting down” seemed so surreal. How could this be happening in our lifetime (we are so progressive)?

So many unknowns in both my personal and professional worlds. Zoomed birthdays, loss of human connections, staying isolated mainly out of my own fears. Not knowing how long we would be apart (family and friends) was definitely stressful for me.  So many emotions: anxiety, loneliness…and did I have enough PPE, toilet paper, and cleaning products.  I stocked my pantry like I might never see the light of day.

I did enjoy some cooking and experimenting with new ingredients but mostly I did it to keep busy.  I had to remember to breathe and take time to take care of myself (still a struggle).  As we started coming out the worst of it, I have realized that my friends circle while smaller in scope is stronger, and we definitely watch out for each other.  I still Zoom with my sisters twice a month, a routine we started early on since being together was not always easy.

I am still so mindful of public transportation and think about every step along the way (should I go to the supermarket versus getting a delivery? Can I hug this person?). So, my pantry is still full and I have more than enough paper towels, toilet paper, masks for another 12 months!

When we closed in March 13, we just celebrated the opening of the amazing Studio 54 show at the Brooklyn Museum. While we changed the format of the event a bit to fit the arising concern of COVID, it still felt like this would be only a slight hitch in our events, and not a shut down. I felt as if we would be planning galas and weddings in no time.

Fast forward three years, and my life has vastly changed. In August 2020, I got married (instead of 200 guests we only ended up having 35); we welcomed our little girl in May of 2021; moved to Maryland in August of 2021 for my husband’s job and in January 2023, we moved back to New York, happily. The shutdown made me realize many things about myself and my relationships. A few to note, one that my husband was the right man to marry (24/7 together definitely made it seem feasible); two, being a mom is wonderful and exhausting; and three, slowing down to appreciate how lucky I am in this fast-paced world, isn’t a bad thing at all.