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Jared Price: How will we celebrate when all this is over?

In this July 2, 2009, photo George Mendonsa poses for a photo in Middletown, R.I., holding a copy of the famous Alfred Eisenstadt photo of Mendonsa kissing a woman in a nurse's uniform in Times Square on Aug. 14, 1945, while celebrating the end of World War II, left. Mendonsa died Sunday, Feb. 17, 2019, he was 95. It was years after the photo was taken that Mendonsa and Greta Zimmer Friedman, a dental assistant in a nurse’s uniform, were confirmed to be the couple. (Connie Grosch/Providence Journal via AP)

Over the past several weeks, a common phrase in conversation has been, “When all this is over…” People speak at length about their plans when life returns to normal: They’ll travel to exotic places, hold the world’s biggest barbecue or eagerly visit their natural habitat, the shopping mall.

One of the famous moments of life returning to normal was August 14, 1945. Otherwise known as V-J Day, this date marked the end of World War II and the victory over Japan. Large crowds gathered in cities throughout the country as President Harry Truman announced the Japanese surrender.

The iconic photo from this day, captured in New York City, shows a sailor taking a nurse into his arms and planting a deep kiss. The original caption on this photo reads “New York City celebrating the surrender of Japan. They threw anything and kissed anybody in Times Square.”

In Salt Lake City, reports from the day indicate a similar scene. Large crowds gathered downtown to cheer, dance, and yes, smooch, until the night was far spent.

This brief look at history raises a question: When all this is over, how exactly will we celebrate? I would think that smooching with strangers is off the table. For a lot of reasons, actually. Most notably, the impetuous canoodling once witnessed in Times Square is a potent method of spreading germs. While we may eventually manage to control the coronavirus, our collective paranoia won’t be quick to subside.

In fact, any type of mass gathering would seem unlikely. There won’t be a grand, televised announcement that brings an end to our troubles. Most likely, a cure for COVID-19 would come in the form of a vaccine. Once a vaccine is approved, we can expect delays in production and distribution, followed by long lines at the clinics and pharmacies. We’ll also see the inane debates about side effects and conspiracy theories getting far too much attention.

So, if we can’t look forward to a grand celebration, with throngs of people and uninhibited behavior, then what can we look forward to? May I suggest three ways we can celebrate when all this is over. With a few precautions, we can even start celebrating now.

1) Go outside, and talk to your neighbors. If the people around you had needed help during this crisis, or perhaps during an earthquake, would you have known it? Conversely, would they have known if it was you who needed help? I find that people generally welcome new friends. Someone has to be the first to reach out.

2) Support the economy. Be adventurous about it. Buy something fun. Check out the little stores near your home. Eat at new restaurants. By this point, you’ve earned a few good meals.

3) Learn from what we’ve experienced. We now understand who’s essential to our society: grocery store employees, truck drivers, warehouse workers, and health care personnel. Nobody in Hollywood is essential. Those who have risked their personal well-being to do their jobs deserve our gratitude and continued support.

Perhaps we’d all enjoy a big party downtown, throwing things and dancing the night away. As much fun as that would be, it would only be a fleeting moment in time. This experience has given us all perspective, and helped us to see and think on a grander scale.

As we move through our own moment in history, we have the opportunity to write our own stories, and create experiences that are meaningful and lasting.

Jared Price

Jared Price, West Jordan, has enjoyed his personal space since long before the era of COVID-19. He hopes the grocery stores never remove the six-foot markers from their floors.