Available: Millennial with 25 Years of Experience

This essay was written in 2020 for Columbia Journalism School’s required admissions package. I worked full-time and attended class part-time during Covid. And while juggling both, I documented an empty city through photographs of desolate streets and subways, photographs and videos of people out banging pots and pans at 7 pm to cheer on essential workers, and recorded the haunting sounds of sirens. A photographs of masks drying over my kitchen sink was featured in an exhibit by the Museum of the City of New York.

Six friends, relatives, neighbors died during that time period. Two of cancer, one heart attack. A friend’s mother. Others were ill or hospitalized.

On campus, we lined up to be tested on a weekly basis. Desks were placed six feet apart. Masks on. No eating or drinking in the building. No socializing in the hallways. No in person meetings for networking.

In the classroom, one student demanded to know why I would bother returning to school. He was 22. I was, well, over 50. I guess he didn’t know what to make of me. He wasn’t the only one. I had more work and life experiences than many were old. Ignoring the tone and the word bother, I explained to him how learning never stops, that I am here learning new skills along with everyone else, and this is a fabulous opportunity to learn.

Another student held up the cane he used for an injured leg and said I needed this based on my advanced age. And the same student offered me a seat in a rocking chair at an event. I declined. Bless their hearts (for the non Southerners, here’s a translation).

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at Pastrami a go-go and other wry tales of the city.