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Authors Posts by Leah Dunaief

Leah Dunaief

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TBR News Media

By Leah S. Dunaief

Leah Dunaief

Incredible as it seems to us, we are celebrating with a special section this week the 45th anniversary of our newspaper and media group now called TBR. Where did those 45 years go?

When we reconstruct the events of both the news and behind the scenes at the newspapers over those 2340 issues, we have a chronicle of the passing time between the first edition of The Village Times and today. In this week’s issue, you will find, in a highly abridged fashion, our attempt to do just that.  We hope it brings back good memories for you because, if you have lived here during any of that time, it bears witness to what was happening around you as well.

For me the section puts into tangible form the extraordinary work of so many dedicated and talented people who have worked at the paper to gather and present the news in a balanced and cogent fashion. Some of the news has been of happy events: our children’s academic and extracurricular triumphs, our neighbors’ efforts enriching our villages through their civic, political and artistic involvement, the interesting lives we have been able to highlight, our shared history, the businesses and what they had to offer in their ads. Some of what we have printed is of necessity not happy stories. But always all the individual issues defined and held together our hometown. It has been said that what marks the boundaries of a community are its school district and the local newspaper.

Newspapers and other media are more than their reporters and editors. Almost all publications, whether print or digital, have basically the same structure: five departments. Those are editorial, advertising, art and production, business and distribution. Some of the departments are supportive of others, but I can tell you emphatically that all, with their different staffers’ skills, are vitally important and must function in tandem in order to produce the final product.

Many of our staffers have gone on to larger media companies and distinguished themselves on a bigger stage. Sometimes they come back for nostalgic visits and to let us know how they are doing. We are proud of them. Hometown papers and digital platforms are often stepping stones that provide experience and hone skills in the communications industry. But I believe none of those larger arenas is more important than the local papers, where we have to meet and answer to our readers and advertisers in the supermarkets and at the ballfields. And while there are many larger media that carry the national and international news, there are only the local newspapers and websites that tell what’s happening and what’s relevant in our daily lives.

This past year with civic unrest, and with COVID-19, has been particularly difficult for readers and business people alike. It has also been difficult for our staff. With small businesses and their advertising, the main source of our revenues and business model falling by the wayside as residents remained in lockdown, we have had to innovate repeatedly in order to survive. We were forced to reduce the number of employees, and those that remain have taken on more responsibilities even as their hours have been cut. It would have been easier to close down and wait for the pandemic to pass, but we couldn’t do that. We are essential workers, keeping our readers informed of vital information about the disease and the responses of our health systems, our educators and our government. We also needed to let people know where to buy food and supplies when so much of routine commerce had shuttered.

How were people coping, what organizations needed help, where would volunteer efforts be most needed, were all critical facts to know for our combined survival, and we had to come in to work and go out amidst the virus and the protests to gather and then communicate the news. We also were able to reassure with our coverage that ordinary life was continuing, despite the hardships.

On this occasion, when we briefly shine the spotlight on ourselves, I want to salute, among all the essential workers, the brave and committed staff of TBR. THANK YOU.

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Mockingbird. Photo from Unsplash

By Leah S. Dunaief

Leah Dunaief

This is the time of year when our five senses go into overdrive. Let me enumerate. In no particular order of delight, I’ll start with sound.

The birdsong is sometimes loud enough to provide dance music at a wedding. There are all kinds of musical bars put forth: crooning, warbling, shrieking, hooting, gurgling. There is an incredible range of notes, from high soprano and countertenor to tenor and baritone, even bass. Sometimes the birds seem to be singing in a chorus, other times at counterpoint. If your bedroom window is open, they can wake you up at first light. There can be many birds in the trees or there may just be one mockingbird pretending to be an entire flock. 

The sight of the birds is as much a treat as the sounds, if you can spot them among the leaves. They can range from a nondescript small brown chick, who nonetheless utters the most melodious songs, to crimson or orange-breasted or blue-tailed or grandly multi-colored varieties of different sizes and shapes that perch briefly on the porch railing or snack on the front lawn. They can seem the model of purpose as they deliver food to the open beaks of their newly hatched offspring or of patience as they sit quietly atop the eggs and wait for the next generation to appear.

Speaking of sight, we go from the early purple of crocuses and joyful yellow of forsythia and daffodils to the lush pink of dogwood and cherry blossoms to the deep red of tulips and azaleas. All of that artwork is provided against a bright green backdrop of new leaves on the bushes and luxuriant attire for the tree limbs. Branches on either side of the road unite in the air overhead, creating sun-dappled tunnels as we drive the back-way routes.

The waves at the beaches are calm now, climbing the sand with rhythmic whispers, and the seagulls fly low, looking for a fish dinner in the clear blue water. Too soon, there will be motor boats and jet skis on the harbors and lawn mowers and leaf blowers keeping the landscape orderly — but not yet. The magic and peace of early spring are still, however briefly, with us to be treasured.

The smells at the beach of salt in the air and blossom-scent on the breezes are intoxicating harbingers of the season. Lilacs, that always know when it is Mother’s Day, perfume the neighborhood. And among us humans, there are always those early-bird few who fire up the grill and begin to barbeque on a sunny weekend afternoon. If we play our cards right, we might be invited to share in this primitive treat. The taste is so much better than anything cooked indoors.

Taste is tantalized by early fresh fruit, like locally grown strawberries, and by vegetables like baby asparagus and snow peas. Several different kinds of dark green lettuces are also ready for dining early in the spring.

As for touch, there is the sweetness of a gentle breeze, reduced on a rare spring day from a stern wind to a caress against the cheek. It carries with it the promise of a summer day and the seduction of a summer night.

Add to all of that, the temperature in spring can reach a universally perfect range. Now I know some people like it hot, really hot, even up in the 90s when they can happily sweat. And some people like it cold, even freezing, during which time they can feel energized and stimulated to ski and ice skate. But all humans feel comfortable moving about in a temperature of 75 degrees. Knowing that could be found most months in San Diego almost prompted my husband and me to move there some 50 years ago. Of course, there were other things to consider, and we ultimately moved to Long Island.

Not for a moment do I have any regrets. My five senses are glad we live here.

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Photo from Pixabay

By Leah S. Dunaief

Leah Dunaief

Strange as it may seem, I always wanted to be a mother. Even before I was in elementary school, I remember hoping someday to be a mother. Thinking back on my early years, I was really more of a tomboy, playing stoop ball and stick ball on the block with the other kids. I did have one doll that I loved. It was quite a progressive doll for its time. I could give it a bottle, and it would subsequently pee. My mother would make sure the baby bottle that had come with the doll was filled with water and not milk. But other than that, I wasn’t particularly given to imaginative girly games like playing house or cooking. I just knew that when I grew up, I wanted to be, among other pursuits, a mother. The idea, of loving a child, teaching a child, nurturing a child, made me happy.

Then I grew up, married a man who also loved the prospect of having a child, and in a short time, we had three. That is, we had three boys within four years and two days. Ever hear the old adage, be careful what you wish for? On the one hand, I adored my boys. I fed them, bathed them, dressed them, played with them and hugged them a lot. On the other hand, I well remember a moment when I sat at the kitchen table, my head down on the crook of my arm, and cried. The three of them were screaming “Mommy!” and chasing each other around my legs with two of them needing diapers changed at the same time. There were dishes in the sink, the next batch of dirty laundry was behind me in a pile, waiting to be put into the overworked washing machine, I had not had a chance yet to change out of my nightgown, and I was seriously doubting I would ever get out of the kitchen alive. This from someone who was never much for crying except in sad movies.

They were exceptionally good communicators. I was convinced that they caucused every night before bedtime and arranged for each to wake me up during the night with a loud scream at a different time. One of my neighbors, catching sight of me putting out the garbage one morning, commented to another neighbor that he had never seen anyone look so tired. Yup, that was me.

But then there was the other side of the experience. They got a little older, made friends who, it seemed, always lived at the farthest reaches of the district, and of course I drove them frequently to play dates. It gave me a chance to meet lots of other mothers. I drove them to weekly music lessons, which enabled them to join the school bands and orchestras. We proudly attended their initially cacophonous concerts that over the years turned into remarkably good classical music and jazz performances. They played baseball, joined the swim team and the tennis team, and we thoroughly enjoyed cheering each at bat, each match, each meet, even if we sometimes melted in the heat or froze in the cold.

Their academic efforts gave us great satisfaction. They studied diligently and sometimes won contests and awards, which gave us vicarious joy. Of less satisfaction would be a trip to meet with the teacher for discussion of any less than perfect behavior.

Then it was prom time. And suddenly, for it seemed sudden, they stood before us in tuxedos, with young women on their arms who they were squiring to the dance. They were all grown up. It was the signal that they would shortly be leaving, eagerly leaving the nest and their parents behind. Yes, they came back regularly from college to have their laundry done and for some good meals. And I like to think for some great hugs. But they were off now, busy with their exciting lives, developing their careers, finding the women they would marry. And the best prize: grandchildren.

How lucky I am that my wish came true.

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METRO photo
Leah Dunaief

By Leah S. Dunaief

Would you like to be different? Would you like to change your personality? Perhaps you would like to be more extroverted. Or more open to new experiences. Or even just more organized. Well, thanks to the pandemic, here is your chance. 

People can and do successfully change their personalities even as adults. Now we are about to emerge from the isolation of lockdown and quarantine and rejoin the larger world. The stage is set for a new you. But this transformation will take work. To start, one could embrace the “As If Principle,” proposed by Richard Wiseman, a psychology professor at the University of Hertfordshire in England. This would require one to behave as if one were already that different person, and after a time, the new behavior and the person would sync. Famously, that is the story the debonair Cary Grant told of his early life, which started on the Bristol docks as Archie Leach and wound up at the pinnacle in Hollywood. “I pretended to be somebody I wanted to be until finally I became that person. Or he became me,” Grant said, according to the British newspaper, The Guardian.

An article in the April 11 issue of The New York Times took up this subject. Headlined, “You Can Be a New You After the Pandemic,” written by Olga Khazan, the story states the following. “Researchers have found that adults can change the five traits that make up personality — extroversion, openness to experience, emotional stability, agreeableness and conscientiousness — within just a few months.” 

Another psychology professor, this one at Columbia University, asserts a similar theme. Geraldine Downey, who studies social rejection, has found that “socially excluded people who want to become part of a group are better off if they assume that other people will like them. They should behave as if they are the popular kid. Getting into social interactions expecting the worst, as many socially anxious people do, tends to be a self-fulfilling prophecy.” In another example of change, “people were able to become more extroverted or conscientious in four months just by listing the ways they’d like to change and what steps they would take to get there,” according to the NYT article. If one wants to be more outgoing, one can make a list of upcoming events in which to interact or persons to call for lunches, and after enough such efforts, the act becomes natural.

It can help in this transformation to see a therapist, research recommends. One such example described a person with neuroticism, “a trait responsible for anxiety and rumination.” After a short burst of therapy, in which the “warm, comforting presence” of a therapist encouraged the idea that the client is a valued person, neuroticism receded, and the studies showed the effect lasted for at least a year.

But not everyone can afford a therapist. Mirjam Stieger, a postdoctoral researcher at Brandeis University, and her colleagues developed an app that “reminded people to perform small tasks to help tweak their personalities, like “talk to a stranger when you go grocery shopping,” to prompt extroversion. The app then asks them if they had done that. According to the study, after three months, the change had stuck.

Agreeableness, by the way, involves “greater empathy and concern for others.” And so, being agreeable after this pandemic could mean being gentler toward one another. We now know, for example, how much essential workers sacrificed during the pandemic, many even their lives. That would suggest greater kindness and patience toward someone who, during the pre-pandemic, might just have been dismissed as annoying. We don’t know what exactly has been that person’s recent experience. At least that can be a conscious thought to modify behavior in what otherwise might have been a contentious situation.

For those who wish to change or live differently, as the NYT article says, “your personality is more like a sand dune than a stone.”

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METRO photo

By Leah Dunaief

Leah Dunaief

Why, if there are 9,700,000 Americans looking for work now, some six percent of our population, are there so many signs outside businesses seeking helpers? Granted, many of those signs are in front of restaurants looking for waiters and shops needing salespeople, service industries in the main, but why the disconnect? And this is not just a regional problem but one in large cities like New York, villages like ours, as discussed at a recent local chamber of commerce meeting, and even rural communities. 

The situation could have some unwelcome consequences as the economy tries to recover. “It could act as a brake on growth and cause unnecessary business failures, long lines at remaining businesses and rising prices,” according to an article in last Saturday’s The New York Times, entitled “Businesses Challenged to Fill Jobs.”

The story, written by Neil Irwin, goes on to offer some possible answers. First is the suggestion that benefits are too generous. “The government is making it easy for people to stay home and get paid. You can’t really blame them much. But it means we have hours to fill and no one who wants to work.” That’s a quote from a pub owner in upstate Baldwinsville, New York, that appeared in the Syracuse Post-Standard and was reprinted in the NYT. 

Some people can make as much or more, thanks to the expanded weekly unemployment payments and the various stimulus cash that has been delivered by the government, at least for awhile. With the reawakening of restaurants and services now, there are more jobs than applicants, which doesn’t drive workers to seek work, compared to the opposite, when the pandemic first hit and jobs were disappearing. The recipients of the cash are doing what economists hoped they would do: spending it. That encourages businesses to reopen, but without enough help. Hence the problem. But it may cure itself when expanded benefits run out in September.

There are other reasons workers may not be inclined to rush back into the workforce. Some, especially those with public-facing jobs, may be afraid of getting sick themselves or perhaps bringing the virus home to vulnerable family members. There does seem to be a relationship between vaccinations of people and a rise in their employment rate, according to the NYT. Researchers have found that a “10-percentage-point increase in those fully vaccinated results in a 1.1 percentage-point increase in their employment.” It would make sense that vaccinated people are more comfortable serving the public.

Here is another possible explanation for the labor shortage. Some of the workers are still needed at home, especially women who might be caring for children, some taking classes remotely, or elderly members of their family. The Times goes on to quote a survey indicating that 6,300,000 million people “were not working because of a need to care for a child not in a school or day care center; and a further 2,100,000 were caring for an older person.” Many of those people, especially women, have disappeared from the rolls of the unemployed and are not even counted any longer. The answer here, as in everywhere else, is in conquering the virus and establishing herd immunity so schools and day care centers can open.

For those businesses that have thrived during the pandemic and have been able to raise the wages they pay workers, like Amazon or construction companies, there is less of a supply problem. But those businesses take away potential workers from industries like restaurants, with thin profit margins. And those workers may not return if they have found better berths for themselves elsewhere.

These issues will sort themselves out eventually, as public health improves and supply-and-demand comes to equilibrium. But one thing is certain. The return to any sort of “normal” will not happen without bumps in the road.

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Pixabay image

By Leah S. Dunaief

Leah Dunaief

Virtually everyone seems to agree that when the pandemic is finally over, life will not be the same as it was pre-COVID-19. Prominent among the changes will be some degree of working remotely. Before the virus descended, requests to work from home at least part of the week were typically refused by employers. Enter “Zoom” in lock-step with the pathogen.

Technically, Zoom was among us before the virus but only a small segment of the population used the platform. Once we were restrained to our homes, we laypeople discovered how easy and useful it was “to Zoom,” and the name became a verb, much like Xerox or Google. So certainly Zooming will remain with us for a long time to come. But what are its unintended consequences?

For one, there is the phrase that has now entered the English language: Zoom fatigue. We, who are on Zoom regularly and for long periods, understand this term. According to an article in National Geographic, published this past Tuesday and written by Theresa Machemer, new research offers data on this phenomenon to confirm our perceived discomfort.

Here are some interesting bits of information. On average, women report 13.8 percent more Zoom fatigue than men. Here is more: besides long days full of calls with few breaks that are the culprits, the self-view video, the crowd of faces on the screen, the expectation to stay in view of the camera, and the lack of nonverbal cues all tax the brain. I would add to that the lag between what is said and its transmission is tiring for the eyes and frustrating to the point of encouraging us to talk louder, which too is tiring.

OK, so we can agree that remote working has its perks: “no commutes, flexibility to handle household tasks, and easy access to conferences for all workers, including those with disabilities.” To an extent, we can now live where we want to live, and we can attend class even if the school shuts down due to an emergency or natural disaster. (No more snow days, sorry.) 

So here is what the scientists who specialize in the interactions between humans and technology developed, according to National Geographic. They created a tool to measure fatigue, called the Zoom Exhaustion and Fatigue Scale, or ZEF. They then used this in large surveys to measure that fatigue, in addition to how long each person spends on Zoom and demographics. Here are four factors that affect teleworkers.

The “lack of nonverbal cues is stressful because people cannot naturally convey or interpret gestures and body language when just their colleagues’ shoulders and heads are visible.” That presents a constant struggle to the viewer for proper communication.

Here is another, perhaps surprising response. “During video calls, people report feeling trapped in one spot so they can stay within view of the webcam.” As a result, they feel stressed, according to the researchers. Further, the default window, in which users see themselves constantly, can cause “mirror anxiety,” a self-consciousness that can result in distraction and has been linked to depression. 

Finally, there is something termed “hypergaze,” in which the viewer feels that the other person or people on the call are staring at them, their faces appearing so near and so intense as to cause discomfort for the brain.

The survey confirmed that women who spend more time in meetings, with shorter breaks between them than men, reported greater mirror anxiety and felt more trapped by their video calls.

How to cope: use a standing desk to feel less trapped; an orange filter on the screen may reduce eye strain; take at least ten minute breaks between video calls; ask conferencing companies to limit the maximum display size of heads on the screen; use some form of hybrid scheduling for home-office work.

I cannot let this subject go, however, without thanking the tech companies for making it possible for me to “see” my family members during this separation of more than a year. It has kept us connected and sane.

 

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President Kennedy greets Peace Corps volunteers in 1961. Wikipedia

By Leah S. Dunaief

Leah Dunaief

Here is an idea that you may find goofy. It has to do with the unaccompanied young people hoping to enter the United States at our southern border and our sperm count crisis.

I don’t know how many of you remember when President John F. Kennedy called to our young and proposed the Peace Corps initiative exactly 60 years ago. How we responded stands as one of our finer moments as a nation. 

In that program, those wanting to make a difference in the world could volunteer to work in other countries on health campaigns, encourage entrepreneurship or teach English to name a few possible jobs. 

Today, the opportunity still exists to serve in over 141 countries (as of 2018), and what was required then still is: resiliency and heart. Those who entered the two-year program had appropriate skills and found the experience gratifying, even life changing.

Now I propose turning the idea on its head. The unaccompanied minors gathered at the border, mostly 16-to-17-year-old males, probably have little in the way of skills except for two assets: youthful energy and desperation. These are both of powerful value.

The government could offer them the following path into the country: They would agree to be assigned to families in different cities and towns and to help those families as directed. This proposition might be of particular aid in agricultural settings but certainly not limited to those. They would not be paid but would enter into a work-study program in which they might gain education, room and board. They would provide much needed work to those who have lost immigrant helpers on farms, in hospitality jobs and childcare, for example, over the past few years due to limitations on foreign workers imposed by the government. 

In return for their efforts, these young people would earn, in due time, a path to citizenship, just as there once was an offer to foreign-born males during WWII to enter the army in return for naturalization. There is still such a pathway today which they could eventually opt for.

A reverse Peace Corps program would require a complex administration in which the families offering such a position would be carefully vetted, as would the young people entering the country. And monitoring within the country would of necessity be in-depth and ongoing. The young people would have to be protected from gangs seeking to force them into their ranks, as well as from exploitive families. Duties would have to be carefully laid out, with hours and goals met. 

It occurs to me that there have been such immigration programs in history, most recently the Kindertransport that brought some 10,000 children up to the age of 17, whose lives were in mortal danger from Nazi atrocities, to England between 1938-1939. After the war, several thousand remained in Britain, and as adults “made considerable contributions to Britain’s services, industries, commerce, education, science and the arts for the defense, welfare and development of their country of adoption.” [Wikipedia.]

Now back to our own situation. Not unrelated, there has been a serious drop in births in the United States over the past half century, in part due to economic circumstances and even to declining sperm count as a result of ongoing pollution. We have learned from previous recessions that for every one percent increase in unemployment, there is a reduction of one percent in the birthrate. 

The current pandemic is anticipated to bring a baby bust, not a baby boom. Even before COVID-19, underpopulation was expected by some researchers, as our falling birthrate was most recently below the 2.1 babies per woman (2019) required to sustain our population through birth alone.

We are, after all, a nation of immigrants, and those seeking to enter our country, by and large, bring the aforementioned energy and grit, determined to realize the “American Dream.” They are an easy way to solve the need for more people. The ultimate goal here is for any such policy to be done according to the law.

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Pixabay photo

By Leah S. Dunaief

Leah Dunaief

For the first time in many months, I went out to a restaurant for a meal. It was breakfast and I was joined in this remarkable activity by a good friend who, like me, has had both vaccine shots plus the requisite 14-day period for the second one to take effect. There was no one else in the restaurant, although by the time we left, a couple of tables, in the distance, were occupied. It felt … familiar yet a little odd … to be sitting there, waiting to be served. We all wore masks, the waiter and the two of us, at least until the food arrived and we were about to eat. It was nice eating hot food instead of the cooled down takeout meals in the aluminum or Styrofoam containers we occasionally had brought home. 

The food tasted delicious, perhaps partly because I was savoring those first bites. And the pleasure of sharing the experience with someone across the table whom I had only spoken to on the phone during these many pandemic weeks was a delight. I could see her face, and not just her eyes and eyebrows. How lovely it all was. How normal!

In fact, according to a front page article in The New York Times this past Monday, we seniors who have been twice vaccinated have become the “life of the party.” We older folks, who got the shots ahead of everyone else, are “emerging this spring with the daffodils, tilting [our] faces to the sunlight outdoors. [We are] filling restaurants, hugging grandchildren and booking flights.”

The article goes on to declare an upside-down world of generational reversal in which the older folks are drinking the martinis and crowding around the bars instead of the more typical scene populated by the younger set. Two-thirds of Americans over 65 have started getting vaccinated and 38 percent have completed the process compared to 12 percent of the general population. Many older people are still maintaining cautious lives as mutations of the virus may pose unknown threats, and the unvaccinated are still at risk if those who have had the shots turn out to be inadvertent carriers. Of course, this is the demographic segment that also has suffered the most losses, as the senior, more medically vulnerable were the main cohort stricken by the deadly coronavirus.

Still, despite the greater risks, recent studies have shown that the older generation throughout this pandemic was less concerned with the threat of COVID-19 and was associated with better emotional well-being and more daily positive events. Under the constant stress, their coping skills were relatively strong, a benefit of aging, and they reported less stress.

As of Monday, 60 million Americans had received at least one dose of a COVID-19 vaccine, more than 31 million are fully vaccinated, and more than 2 million people are being vaccinated every day. But we know that the pandemic is not over by any means, and the worst possibility at this point would be for us to suffer another surge the way European countries presently are.

It’s still hard to know what is safe. Despite the science, there are several unanswered questions. including how long vaccinated protection will last and whether the vaccines can continue to defend against the new, more contagious and more virulent variants. We can gather in private homes with small groups of likewise vaccinated without masks or distancing and even with single families whose members have not yet been inoculated but are at low risk for developing severe illness should they catch the virus. This best applies to grandparents who may now visit unvaccinated children and grandchildren without masks and social distancing.

In public places, however, those who have had their shots should still wear their masks, practice social distancing, avoid poorly ventilated spaces and frequently wash their hands. Long-distance travel is still discouraged.

We are so near and yet still so far.

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Pixabay photo

By Leah S. Dunaief

Leah Dunaief

There are some funny stories I could share with you about being a woman in business this Women’s History Month. Like any storyteller, I may be repeating myself with a couple, so please indulge me with your patience. I hope they will give you a chuckle even if you’ve already heard them. 

First though, I would call your attention elsewhere in the newspaper and on our website to a section in which local businesswomen are participating in this month’s spotlight. They have sent in headshots of themselves and have answered one of three questions that we posed: how do you balance work-life duties; who inspired you; what words would you offer younger women interested in following in your footsteps? Please look for them and enjoy their responses. We hope you will also shop in their stores and use their services, thus supporting both the local economy and minority-owned enterprise.

We started the first newspaper, The Village Times, on April 8, 1976. After some wildly chaotic and exciting first months, just before Christmas, I was waiting in line at the deli across from the office when I was greeted by the ad director of a local competitor newspaper. We had met several times before, and he was filled with the good cheer of the season.

“Congratulations on your new venture,” he said. “The paper looks very good every week.”

“Thank you,” I replied, thinking it was a generous thing for him to say to another publisher.

“You tell the fellow up there that he’s doing a great job,” he added, pointing upward to my office building on the hill.

“What fellow?” I asked, ‘Fiddler on the Roof’ crossing my mind.

“Aw, c’mon,” he said with a laugh. “We all know you have some guy up there running the show.”

“Merry Christmas,” I replied and took the encounter back to the staff of half a dozen wives and mothers, who howled.

Then there was the time I was seated on the dais next to the New York Press Association’s keynote speaker, Mike Wallace. It was the Spring Convention, 1984. On his other side was the association’s president finishing his meal, and I was the president-elect. Wallace, good journalist that he was, chatted with us throughout the dinner, sincerely asking about the names and locations of our newspapers. After it was my turn, and I answered his queries, he looked at me and asked, “And where is your husband?”

I could hear the president choking on his food as he feared my response. “He’s at home watching the children,” I answered with a smile. At this point, the president was able to get out, “No, she is the owner and publisher of her paper.”

Wallace turned back to me, patted my arm, and after a long pause, offered, “Forgive me, my dear. I’m an old dinosaur.”

Here’s another. It was 1978 and I had arrived the night before the NYPA convention was to start. I was already checked into the hotel and was eating dinner in the dining room with a book for company. “May I join you?”

I looked up and saw a pleasant-looking man smiling down at me. “Yes,” I answered, returning the smile and assuming he was another early arrival for the convention. We exchanged names and hometowns, chatted briefly about the weather in Albany, and then he slid his room key across the tablecloth. “Come up about 9:00,” he instructed.

I stared at him puzzled, then realized what he was saying. “Why would you think I would be coming to your room?” I asked astonished.

“Well,” he said, “you are down here in the hotel eating by yourself.” He withdrew the key and quickly left. I looked around, realized I was the only woman eating alone, skipped dessert, paid the check, rode the elevator up to my room, and once inside, double-locked the door.

That was life in the fast lane for a woman in business in the 1970s.

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Stock photo

By Leah S. Dunaief

Leah Dunaief

The second time around, of course, I knew the routine: where to drive, what paperwork to fill out, how quickly the shot would be administered into my designated vaccine arm, my left, then how I would have to wait in case of an immediate reaction. After the allotted 15 minutes, there being none, I left and drove myself home, picking up a sandwich for supper at the deli along the way.

Shortly after I finished eating and got up from the table, however, I started to feel a bit lightheaded. By the time I had cleaned everything up, I was decidedly dizzy. I climbed the stairs to the bedroom, got into pajamas and, book in hand, tucked myself safely into bed. After a couple of hours, when my inoculation site began to hurt, I took two Tylenol and ultimately fell asleep.

The next morning, Sunday, the dizziness had stopped and I was wolfishly hungry. Thinking that was a good sign, I hurried out of bed only to realize that my left upper arm seriously ached, and upon inspection, was red, hot and swollen. It remained that way throughout the day and the next, until it finally dawned on me to apply ice to the area. Almost immediately the swelling was reduced. Otherwise, except for a slight and short-lived headache, the kind one might get when coming down with a cold, I had no further difficulties.

Now that I have had both vaccines, what does that mean?

First, it means that I have to wait 14 days before the full preventive effect of the vaccines take effect. Then, and only then, a curtain will lift and I will be able to walk out into the sunshine. At least, that is how I would like to think of my life changing two weeks from now. But not completely, I have learned. Yes, I will be able to socialize in small groups in homes with others who have also been twice inoculated. That means friends around my age. We will not have to wear masks nor remain socially distanced. Hallelujah! 

I will also be able to meet with my unvaccinated family in single family units at a time — son, daughter-in-law and their children — if they have been living together the whole time and are basically healthy. According to CDC guidelines, this can happen in a home and without requiring masks or our standing six feet apart. The very thought of hugging them makes me dizzy again, this time with pleasure.

In public places, however, we should continue with the same precautions of masks, social distancing and frequent hand washing, as well as avoiding poorly ventilated spots. Scientists do not yet understand if we can still carry and inadvertently transmit the virus. Also they don’t know exactly how well or for how long the vaccines protect against the disease. There are, as we know, ongoing multiple mutations by the virus, some of them more contagious and more virulent than the originals, and scientists are not sure how well vaccines will protect against those variants.

Meanwhile, we who are vaccinated need not get tested or quarantine if we are exposed to the virus, unless of course, we come down with symptoms. We are advised not to gather with unvaccinated people from more than one household and should avoid joining medium or larger groups. 

Further, we are still advised not to travel long distances and to stay home if possible until more facts are known. This is disappointing, but travel brings exposure to more people and the possible spread of variants. Every time there is more travel, there is a surge of cases, the experts point out. If we go to a gym or restaurant, the risk is lower, but we should still be aware and take the usual precautions, like wearing a mask on the treadmill or while waiting for a meal. 

So we are returning to normal life but slowly and with great care.

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