Signs of crisis times

I've been noticing all the signs lately that show how our world is changing because of the coronavirus crisis. This one, on the door of the Dunbar branch library, makes me think it will be a long time before I'll be sauntering up the street to pick up a book there again.

Sweet Somethings, a little coffee shop and bakery, has been a favourite spot to meet friends for lunch in the two years it has been open. Judging from the signs on the door, it made a valiant effort to keep going before bowing to the inevitable. 

This is one of the signs outlining the many measures the owner took to try to keep the bakery open. I suspect little locally owned shops like this one will be hardest hit by the crisis, and our neighbourhood will lose as a result.

I include this restaurant because it has been one of the Dunbar street staples for as long as I can remember. It had no more luck staying open than the two-year-old Sweet Somethings.

The Cosy Inn's hand-written, but very precise, closure sign. Its regulars will miss it.

Keep your distance. Go away. Closed. There’s a cold feeling in my little local shopping area these days, with one store after another lining up to tell customers that they are – for the good of the community and for themselves – not wanted very much, and often not at all. Thanks to the coronavirus, virtually all of the small stores in one two-block stretch of Dunbar are shuttered, or offering service so restricted that it amounts to the same thing.

The physical signs – the pieces of paper on the door of each of these shops – are also signals of how the coronavirus is turning the accepted norms of our society upside-down: Don’t connect, at least not physically. Don’t shop, unless it’s for essentials. Don’t linger in public spaces; as our prime minister says: “Go home and stay home.”

So, no more avocado toast with friends at brave little Sweet Somethings, a two-year-old coffee shop and bakery trying to defy the odds of survival in high-rent Dunbar. I’ve tried to support it, but the signs on its old-fashioned doors recount a losing battle to the virus – the hiking of sanitation, the banning of cash, the shifting of seating, the switching to paper cups, and finally, closure. Nor will I soon be dropping into the comfortable elderliness of the local library branch, with its hard-copy newspapers, books and wall of dated DVDs. Its front-door sign shouts “stop” in vivid red, and it's hard not to think that means something more symbolic than a simple closure for public safety. I can still get medications (toilet paper is iffy) at Shoppers, but first must brave a large entrance placard warning me to stay away if I’m sick. The shuttering of Starbucks has removed the outdoor tables, with their (usually) dog-owning patrons, from the Dunbar street scene, while the Cosy Inn restaurant, which has survived for decades here, is temporarily closed. Several bank branches, which usually tout their extended hours on their doors, have drawn down their blinds and posted signs directing customers elsewhere. Stong’s, the only source of groceries in the immediate area, remains open, but a smattering of warning signs on its doors reveal progressively more restrictive policies to deal with the crisis: no cash, no bottle returns, a reminder of social distancing, and the institution of special hours for seniors.

The collective impression is of an area shutting down, upending all the usual conventions in preparation for tough times ahead. But there are other signs out there with a different, warmer message about dealing with the crisis. During a walk one day, I was halted by a chalk scrawl beneath my feet: “Spend lots of time outside,” it said. A few blocks over, on another corner, was “Think positive thoughts.” Then I found “Kindness matters,” and “Celebrate for no reason.” Another day in a different part of Dunbar, I found “Stay well,” and “Peace and Love,” surrounded by hearts in pink and yellow chalk.

There are the necessary signs of a shutting-down city, trying to keep its residents safe and supplied with essentials. Then there are the signs made by people who know what that will cost us.

This was one of a number of chalk messages I saw during a walk one day. Somebody understands the toll the shutdown of everything is having on the human psyche.

Another positive sign, another day. Farther up, by the garden bag, are the words: "Stay well," followed by hearts and "Peace and Love."

This sign was further afield from the Dunbar shopping area, but signalled a similar impact. It says this Little Free Library is shutting down because of fears of coronavirus contamination.  Another loss, however necessary, to our civic connections.

A few days before I encountered the Little Free Library in the photo above, I spotted this one cleared of books. There was no sign explaining why, but I assume it was also because of coronavirus fears.

Another sign of the times marks the entrance to Camosun Bog in Pacific Spirit Park. The park is still open, but the sign reiterates the importance of people staying six feet apart, even while enjoying the outdoors.