The joy of sitting outside, on a hot summer’s evening in Boston, stress-free, joking with my daughter, son-in-law, wife and two teenage grandchildren over cheese, crackers and a glass of wine made me grasp how much the Covid-19 lockdown had shattered the highpoints in one’s life — and in my case, some low-points — that cement family relationships, and create the reminiscences that are passed down from one generation to another.
Over the past 18 months, I realised that I had not been able to grieve my brother’s death with friends and relatives, nor celebrate my grandson’s bar mitzvah, my wife’s 70th birthday, my 50th wedding anniversary and the launch of my son’s book in Sydney.
These landmark events had passed me by without solemnity or festivity. But surrounded by warmth and affection at this small family gathering, after such a long absence, helped lift some of the pain of being robbed of those memorable moments.
Even though the US is nowhere near a crisis, the spread of Covid-19 still poses a threat. Stubbornly, eight states remain under-vaccinated and account for more than 50% of the country’s hospitalisations. In other states too, reports reveal that the bulk of patients admitted to clinics had not been inoculated.
Life in Boston, though, appears to have returned to normal. People visit freely and only occasionally wear masks in stores. Last weekend traffic in the city centre was so jam-packed, we gave up trying to find a parking and returned home. In the suburbs new homes are springing up all over the place, and doctor friends admit they have been run off their feet by patients returning for elective surgery.
Still, the city remains on alert for any signs of an outbreak of Covid-19, with the medical profession concerned that skilled nursing staff will not voluntarily choose a repeat of the severe trauma they suffered during previous waves.
In New York, on the other hand, while Wall Street trades at record highs, Main Street bears the scars of the pandemic. Absent, at this time of the year, are the hordes of tourists from Asia, Europe, South America and even visitors from the neighbouring states that hire the horse carriages in Central Park, queue for puffer jackets at Uniqlo and buy “I Love New York” tees in Times Square.
Vacated premises on every block expose signs of the thousands of restaurants, hairdressers, gyms, clothing stores and other small retail outlets that shut their doors forever. Fewer yellow taxis weave down the avenues and the underground trains run less frequently, clear proof of a slowdown in business activity.
The city is doing its best to adapt. Outdoor eating, in temporary structures that spill onto the streets, is flourishing, museums and movie theatres are fully functional, and Broadway is due to reopen shortly. All of which have brought some life back onto the streets and into the parks.
That aside, Jay-Z’s city, where the noise is always loud, where there are sirens all around and the streets are mean, is still missing a beat.
I’m the last person to pretend I understand the long-term consequences of the actions taken by central bankers and governments to counterbalance the damage inflicted on the world economy by the pandemic, but as an observer of everyday life, it’s obvious that it is still too early to remove their support.
When “the street lights (and) big dreams all look pretty” and I have to queue for a bagel and lox sandwich at Fairway Market on Broadway at 1 in the morning, will I believe that Covid-19 has finally been vanquished.
• Shapiro is deputy chair of Sasfin Securities.
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