Chronicle Journalists Reflect on a Year of Social Distancing

Margie Glennon, who oversees webinars, briefings, and advice articles:

A few weeks into lockdown, I worried about nonprofit leaders on the front lines trying to meet so many urgent needs while figuring out whole new ways to operate. These folks already bore the weight of their communities’ needs, and now they had to worry about their staff members and families, oversee school at home in some cases, and often see pain and suffering up close. How could I help?

I set out to write a story for nonprofit managers to help them cope. But it turned into an article for all nonprofit workers, or anyone, really. I learned from many wise people while reporting, but one stands out for me in particular: Teresa Mateus a trauma specialist and co-founder of Trauma Response & Crisis Care for Movements. With a steady and calm manner, she shared her wisdom and expertise. Be “gentle and generous” with yourself she advised; her words have stayed with me. It’s great advice any time, not just in a crisis.

And I finally got around to writing the article for managers and leaders much later in the year. For that, I drew on the candor, humor, and expertise of Yolo Robinson, founder of the Black Emotional and Mental Health Collective. He offered practical advice based on things he was doing within his own organization. He offered many examples of how to keep employees’ needs at the center of policies to preserve their well-being. I feel fortunate to have spent time with both of these caring people, to have learned from them, and to be able to share their wisdom with our readers. Those experiences were silver linings to the cloud of Covid-19.

Jim Rendon, a senior writer who has written several of our magazine’s cover stories about the current crises:

Over the past year, I have learned so much from the remarkable nonprofit workers who have taken the time to speak with me.

I’ve heard stories of deep struggle — people who have lost loved ones and who balance impossible tasks of overwhelming work and escalating home demands. More than a few have held back tears as we talked, and yet they remain committed to the people and causes they serve. I’ve heard from women and leaders of color about the biases they have faced throughout their careers and how they have found the strength to continue to find work that is meaningful to them.

And I have laughed with so many over the interruptions from my kids and theirs, or the whale sounds my dog makes when he sleeps in the home office. Despite all the hardship, I have gotten to know so many people on a much more human level than I would have otherwise, and I always marvel at each person’s candor and openness.

Amy Saltzman, who edits opinion articles:

Since I started editing opinion pieces for the Chronicle of Philanthropy last May, I have yet to meet a single staff member in person. My conversations with op-ed writers have taken place over Zoom. Yet I have found connections in unexpected ways. One of the most memorable was a Zoom call from across the Atlantic last fall with British philanthropy scholar Paul Vallely, who had just released a 1,000-page tome on the history of philanthropy.

We had a lot to talk about. But the highlight for me was when Paul, peering through his computer camera lens, noticed a black and white photograph on the wall behind me in my home office. “You have to tell me about that photo,” he said. After months of Zoom calls, he was the first person to comment on the photograph.

“That’s my family, circa around 1963,” I said. “I’m about 4.” The photograph is filled with contrasting dark shadows and white light from a nearby window, like one of those old Life magazine images, capturing a moment of both promise and uncertainty as my parents, three younger siblings, and myself smile playfully into the camera lens.

Paul and I talked about the photo, our lives during quarantine, the upcoming presidential election, and the challenges ahead for philanthropy. We were total strangers sharing stories about ourselves and the future. I like to think that this unlikely connection, practically unthinkable pre-Covid, made Paul slightly more tolerant of all my questions when it came time to edit his op-ed. I do know that he ended up writing one of the most insightful opinion pieces of the year — a clear-eyed assessment of what it will take for philanthropy to make itself compatible with democracy.

Emily Haynes, who covers fundraising:

I have one of those faces that makes strangers drawn to talk to me. It may be because I worked too many service-industry jobs or it may be because I’m too polite.

But I rarely want to chat on an airplane, and almost always the person seated next to me does — incessantly. In the Before Times, that bothered me. But now I have so few occasions to chitchat with strangers! I found myself missing their stories so much.

`Over the last year, I’ve relished the minutes of small talk at the start of interviews — easy chatter with folks in different parts of the country about what their “normal” was, how Covid-19 upended it, and what’s keeping them going.

One source told me how she’d dedicated her Instagram page to Elf on the Shelf photos around her house during the holidays — her friends were tired of the pictures, but they brought her joy. Another told me how he was navigating tense political divides within his family because of the election. Another told me about the leaves changing in Vermont and another person apologized that her dog was snoring so loud that the phone was picking it up. These conversations were deeply human. They reminded me how each of us is doing our best to live a full life in a time when our worlds have become so small.

Nicole Wallace, our features editor

I was astonished when we put together our first print issue with everyone working from home. Before Covid, I’m not sure anyone had ever worked on an issue remotely. Maybe there were times someone had for a day or two, but definitely never the whole staff.

A month later, we did it again. By that time, it was clear the pandemic wasn’t going anywhere. I had been stacking pillows on a very uncomfortable chair at home trying to get my height to match up with my desk — and I had the aches and pains to prove it. So the Saturday after deadline, I masked up, headed to the office, and rolled my office chair home — ready to take on the rush of news to come.

Dan Parks, data and digital editor

I’ve been back to my desk a few times since that day in March of 2020 when I left the office knowing I wouldn’t be working there again for a while. At that time, it seemed like it might be just a few weeks or months until we returned to the office. Looking back now, it’s hard to imagine why I was thinking that way, but I was.

When I’ve stopped back into the office lately, my desk now reminds of one of those scenes from a movie where people hurriedly rush away from their home or office due to some catastrophe. I keep my workspace a bit cluttered by nature, and my desk at the office seems frozen in time, with a now-outdated desktop calendar, Post-It notes everywhere, stacks of manila folders, and mementos from events I had attended as a journalist. What struck me is how little of the clutter on my desk was needed for me to do my day-to-day work. What really matters are my relationships with my co-workers, which we maintain as best as we can through Zoom, and my contacts with readers and sources, which is largely intact despite our difficult new circumstances. The pandemic has hindered our ability to stay connected to other people, but we are fighting back, and we are making it work.

When I’m working from home, sometimes I’m also listening to my son in the next room with his headphones on, attending fourth grade virtually through an iPad. He’s pretty good about letting me work, but occasionally he interrupts me to ask for help with something. If I’m on the phone with sources or a colleagues, they invariably handle the interruption with grace and humor. And it often sparks a conversation about the challenges we are all facing, the ways we are coping, and the long-term effects of the pandemic on society, particularly among the less fortunate. The nonprofit leaders who I have the privilege of talking to almost every day are engaged in work that helps people in far more difficult circumstances, and yet there is never any attempt to minimize the challenges that even the more privileged in society face. Instead, there is empathy, humor, and hope. It helps get me through the days in brighter spirits. So I thank my sources, the Chronicle’s readers, and my colleagues for the lift they give me every day.