EMPTY AMERICA: Seattle

(Quick note to any road trip fans out there: Drive Montana. Stunning)


Seattle was one of the first and hardest hit at the outbreak of the coronavirus. It caught on in a nursing home and swept through there pushing their statistics higher quicker than any other American cities.


What I felt when I got to Seattle was that people were just used to it by now. They’d been self-isolating and have dealt with the fear and paranoia and uncertainty already. The city was open and humming, but there were definitely more folks out on the streets, a lot without face masks, talking on their phones, having conversations, and generally going about their lives like maybe they’d gotten past the worst of it.


There were still plenty of shut down businesses, social distancing, a police presence, all of the things I’d gotten used to. There just seemed to be an air of “we’ve been through it, and we’re just making this new normal work for us.”


The majority of the Pike Place Market was empty. No one slinging fish. However, there were a few farmer’s markets hawking a full inventory. There was a line outside of the first Starbucks, each person taking turns to go inside so as not to crowd the store. I met a photographer who was doing the same thing I was. He told me he’d already quarantined for 20 days so he felt safe to go outside.


That was the general feel. It was ok to be outside. The fear had subsided and transformed into caution. When a pendulum swings wildly both ways, it eventually settles into the middle. That’s where Seattle was.


Don’t get me wrong: It still had all the ear-marks of the toll the virus had taken across America. No traffic, definitely less people than would be normal, “closed” signs. However, in the busiest parts of downtown, this was the first time I’d noticed that homeless people were actually out-numbered by those that weren’t homeless. It’s probably a sad statement to make that something like this was so obvious, but sociologically that became my barometer for how a city was coping and recovering. When the formerly unseen become the majority, then fade back into obscurity again, that’s when you know a metropolis is recovering. This might not have any basis in statistics, but it was just an observation.


Another indication that Seattle was still swinging: As most city’s plywood-covered windows seemed freshly hung, there were a number of boarded up windows around Pioneer Square that had turned their plywood into art. A spray-painted was creating one such work of art as the shop owners looked on. On either side of him, the window-coverings had already been gussied up. It was a beautiful moment. Sure, there was some basic graffiti tags and one window (Hilariously? Sadly?) said “Where’s Bezos?” But for the most part, Seattle was making a go of it, turning pain into painting, devastation into a gallery, creativity was rising above the tragedy. I’ve always been an advocate for the arts, and this is why: In even our worst times, artists will always be there to shed a light, give a smile or, at the very least, distract us from the distraught.