SALT MILITARY PHOTOJOURNALISM MAGAZINE 2021 — Syracuse University by Claudia Strong

Onward

Despite a global pandemic, life persists.

2020

On the cover, family members release doves at the burial of Dol Oth. Above, his grandchildren comfort each other at the funeral.

has been a year like no other in recent memory. In the time of COVID-19, a global pandemic disrupted lifestyle, restricted behavior and isolated many people from daily human connection. Strange new concepts became mundane, such as masks, social distancing and remote learning. In the slow months that both dragged by and slipped through the fingers, we waited for a vaccine, for cases to diminish, for a solution that would restore normalcy. But after the initial uncertainty and through the prolonged tension, unease and discomfort began to reveal more than what we had lost; it also showed us what we were missing. There was grief and resistance, but there was also grace and resurgence. The tenacity of the human spirit shaped our collective endeavor to survive, to console, to understand, to give, to rebuild and to love. As you’ll see in these pages, for some residents of central New York, perseverance meant hunkering down and grounding themselves, whether through faith, nature or family. For others, it meant the dogged pursuit of their dreams or of social justice as they sought to stoke the hot coals of despair to reforge a world according to their values. And in a world seemingly gone still, there were still others who had no illusion of choice, no privileged harbor to ride out the storm. Essential workers put one foot in front of the other as they tacked on one more danger during their daily struggle to make ends meet while keeping the nation afloat. As 2020 comes to a close, communities have bound together, individuals have overcome, society has transformed, and humanity’s compassion and decency have endured through adversity and challenge. The impact of this time — its struggles and its triumphs — will extend beyond the confines of the calendar year. And we’ll keep moving onward, together.

Cover photo, inset photo and introduction by Shannon Smith

CONTENTS

No Justice, No Peace

6 2

Defining Essential

This Is Me Becoming Moore Jr.

A Rush, an Escape and a Place of Solace

Searching for Normal

Winsome Wild

Faith Restored

Teall Ave.

Seeking Refuge

A Treatment for Hope

Separated Together

At a Standstill

Treasured Support

Undressing a Pandemic

Casting Away

108

120

A Drop of Sunshine

Somewhere Old Somewhere New

102

In Pursuit of Something Beautiful

Memento Mori

114

Giving in a Time of Need

DEFINING BY JEANETTE M. MULLINAX

Dinosaur Bar-B-Que’s West Willow Street entrance, which used to lead into a dining area, became a space for preparing and expediting takeout orders when the state mandated reduced capacity measures.

ESSENTIAL

When many businesses shut down, services that the state of New York deemed essential kept their doors open in order to meet the needs of the public amid a pandemic.

Centro transit bus operator Brad Heppeler has been driving routes in Syracuse, N.Y., for seven years. In a bag, he carries a handful of single-use face masks for passengers.

New York Gov. Andrew Cuomo issued Executive Order 202 in March 2020 declaring an official state disaster emergency, stating that all nonessential services — gyms, indoor dining, all establishments for public amusement — had to either shut down, or, if possible, continue their services remotely. As for essential workers, they then had to face an invisible enemy at the forefront of a growing public health crisis. To address the threat of the coronavirus outbreak, the state outlined 12 categories of essential businesses that would not be subject to in-person restrictions. Each provided products or services deemed necessary to maintain the health, welfare and safety of the state’s citizens; these services

included health care operations, manufacturing and agriculture, essential retail and financial institutions among others. These businesses were also required to implement protocols that included social distancing and face masks. Categorized as essential retail services, restaurants continued offering food options for the Syracuse community but initially only for takeout and delivery. A complete shutdown of indoor dining lasted nearly three months, from March 16 to June 12. Adapting to the challenges, local favorite Dinosaur Bar-B-Que made room for increased demand at the West Willow Street outdoor takeout counter by turning its front dining area into a space solely for employees to focus on takeout. Kitchen manager Raymond Ryan has worked at the original location

Paleinder Singh interacts with customers from behind a plastic barrier at his gas station on Grant Boulevard.

of the barbecue chain for five years and said he’s glad he’s still able to come into work. “Nobody else does barbecue like this around here and we have to be here to keep the smokers going,” Ryan said as he loaded the restaurant’s wood-fired meat smoker with their signature pork cuts. While Onondaga County eventually resumed indoor dining with restrictions to capacity, Ryan said the restaurant still prioritizes health and safety above all else. In response to the coronavirus outbreak, the chain introduced paid sick leave for employees and even installed a new air purifying system designed to remove bacteria, mold and respiratory droplets from the air, the method by which the COVID-19 infection primarily spreads, according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention.

Although some restrictions on businesses have lifted, the risk to workers in public services has steadily increased. In defending against the risk of workplace exposure, the Central New York Regional Transportation Authority, otherwise known as Centro, began providing its staff with gloves and hand sanitizer. For Centro bus operator Brad Heppeler, enforcing the mask mandate has been crucial to mitigating his risk. He carries single-use face masks, provided by Centro, for boarding passengers who don’t have their own. “It’s important,” said Heppeler, “Because I’ve been driving buses for seven years, and I can’t do this from home.” Though the federal government has passed four rounds of COVID-19 emergency relief funds for essential

workers, the compensation does not reduce the daily health threat. As a newcomer in local politics, but lifetime community activist, Seventh District Onondaga County Legislator Mary Kuhn noted the events of this election year have tested the fabric of the Syracuse community. “While it’s frustrating, I’m happy to be here during this time because I’m seeing more of not only how the government works, but also how our community has come together. That’s what keeps me going — the energy from the people and the cry for justice,” said Kuhn. She further emphasized a focus on small businesses as a way to move forward and lean into the Salt City’s economic development. “We have a lot of work to do, but during a crisis like this, what we’ve seen is tremendous community support,” said Kuhn.

Raymond Ryan, a kitchen manager at Dinosaur Bar-B-Que, carries pork cuts to the restaurant’s wood-fired smoker. Ryan has worked at the chain’s original location since 2015.

Manika Guatam harvests onions alongside refugee farmers at Salt City Harvest Farm in Kirkville, N.Y. As essential manufacturing services, food-producing farms remained open for business.

‘No Justice,

No Peace’

A social movement fights for racial equality and police reform

By Danielle Baker

he crowd moves as one, holding signs and chanting, demanding to have their voices heard. Together, they march through the streets of downtown Ithaca as residents peek through their windows trying to get a glimpse at the commotion. Footsteps stomp on the pavement as protesters raise their fists to the sky, shouting through face masks three simple but compelling words — “Black lives matter.” The death of George Floyd, a Black man killed during an arrest in Minneapolis, on May 25, 2020 sparked a cause for change throughout America and the world during the COVID-19 pandemic. The Black Lives Matter movement, which began as a hashtag in 2013 after the acquittal of George Zimmerman in the death of African American teen Trayvon Martin, became a national rallying cry for social justice, equality and police reform. Over 7,750 protests and demonstrations in the U.S. have been linked to BLM since Floyd’s death.

A “Back the Blue” supporter stares down a Black Lives Matter protester at one of the largest organized BLM rallies of the season in Ithaca, N.Y.

Ithaca, New York, is one of more than 1,700 cities nationwide with protesters fighting for justice and racial equality with increased activity in 2020. The Ithaca Pantheras, a non-partisan community organization “dedicated to the advancement of social justice,” is one of the activist groups in Ithaca protesting for change. Only a few months old, Pantheras is actively helping out its community by providing resources like childcare, education classes and food, while also planning weekly rallies to protest and advocate for police reform in Ithaca.

“I’ve experienced so much racism and systematic racism,” said Ax, a Black member of the Pantheras who requested anonymity. “I see it. I feel it. I see how it affects the Black people around me, and how it’s so hard for them to get out of these shackles. … My only hope is that one day Black people will have time to relax and just exist.” Even during the pandemic, hundreds of people are showing up regularly and supporting the protests in Ithaca. Many wear masks and take comfort in the events being outdoors, as social distancing is difficult in large crowds.

A BLM protester gestures toward opposing crowds beside a burning “Make America Great Again” hat at a Trump rally overtaken by more than 100 counter-protesters in downtown Ithaca.

A young Ithaca protester takes her turn at the megaphone chanting, “Black lives matter” across from the Tompkins Republican Party Headquarters.

Ithaca police officers are positioned around a two-block pedestrian mall during an “Antiracist Festival Against Hate” rally with over 200 protesters in support of BLM.

From children shouting through megaphones to older couples holding signs together, the protests are met with support from every generation. Every Sunday since Floyd’s death six months ago, the Pantheras has protested at the Bernie Milton Pavilion at the Ithaca Commons pedestrian shopping mall. When a “Back the Blue” rally in support of the Ithaca Police Department was scheduled to rally in the same spot in late October, the Pantheras and the Ithaca Democratic Socialists of America chapter organized an “Antiracist Festival Against Hate” rally to counter it. Their goal was simple: Show the Back the Blue protesters that Black lives matter and demonstrate that their community wouldn’t stand by silent. They took over the commons and

created barriers using large signs that read “NO HATE NO KKK NO FASCIST USA.” Its organizers deemed the fivehour protest a success at dusk when all of the Back the Blue protesters had left. Nationwide, protests similar to the ones in Ithaca have resulted in police department budget cuts, police reform and the removal of Confederate monuments and statues. But many feel there’s more work to be done. “Shining light on these issues is important, and spreading it in a way where people can’t ignore it is really important,” said Vinnie, a protester in Ithaca who also requested to remain anonymous. “I’m very proud that everybody here has been protesting for months and months and months because everybody here knows that experientially this town can’t ignore that.”

“My only hope is that one day Black people will have time to relax and just exist.” 17

A rush, an escape and a place of solace Where thrills and restoration are found among trails and trees By Timothy A. Turner

Visitors of Orenda Springs Experiential Learning Center gather around the fishpond, which is fed by a freshwater spring. The pond is often the first stop for visitors.

“Are you ready to get high?” asks a group facilitator just before guests ascend into the trees on the ropes course. The facilitator explains that visitors can receive positive feelings and experiences from being in nature or trying new things, rather than drugs or alcohol. People of all ages come here, to Orenda Springs Experiential Learning Center, to challenge themselves, to connect with nature or to have fun and relieve stress in the middle of a public health crisis where many are staying indoors out of caution or because of mandatory quarantine. The American Public Health Association recommends that people go outside

and into nature during the pandemic, as crowded areas typically used for socializing, such as malls and parties, present a higher risk for contracting socially communicable illnesses like COVID-19. Occupying more than 100 scenic acres in Marcellus, New York, the nonprofit center includes activities like a fishpond and nature trails, as well as physical and mental challenges like interacting with farm animals and negotiating a 75-foot-high ropes course. Before Director John Powers founded the center on the property on which he’s lived since 2006, he spent more than 20 years as a science teacher and guid-

Visitors work together during a challenge in which one must wear a blindfold while his or her partner guides him or her through the woods.

Visitors react to the challenge of attempting to kiss a fish and dunking their head in cool pond water. Reactions to the fishpond range from nervous excitement to hesitation.

ance counselor in Syracuse, New York, where he would take students on excursions like mountain climbing and skiing — teaching them lessons with the intention of enabling them to do better in their studies by learning life skills. “Those activities inspired me to overcome some of my [own] fears. I wanted to transfer that feeling to the kids,” he said. Now, he and his staff offer some of those same experiences to the children and adults who visit Orenda Springs. The center sits on historic land formerly inhabited by the Haudenosaunee Native American tribes and derives its name from a word used to describe spiritual power. Neighbors of the Onondaga Nation, an organization that recognizes

the traditional government of the Haudenosaunee native tribes, believe that people have power, called orenda, that accumulates through life experiences. Powers believes he knows a sure way to predict someone’s aptitude for success. “If they are self-motivated, they are going to be successful, regardless of their IQ,” he said. Gaining a sense of personal drive for success is not the only potential benefit of a day at the center; a 2019 study by the Scientific Reports academic journal showed that spending two hours per week outdoors, in nature, can improve overall mental health and wellbeing. Ramsden, 32, a group facilitator, began working as a volunteer at the cen-

ter during its opening year. He became an employee in 2018 when he decided to leave a job as a line cook and waiter that often left him feeling unfulfilled and with no direction. “Orenda has given me a purpose, 100%, and it has helped me to feel like I am doing good in the world,” he said. Ramsden said that to him, the most valuable opportunity the center offers, especially amid tensions about the pandemic, is the opportunity to get moving and get outside. “Just giving them the opportunity to be out in the woods and experience nature and take some breaths,” Ramsden said. “That‘s huge for the mental game.”

Above: Director John Powers poses for a portrait, displaying the many works of art made by visitors over the center’s 15-year existence. Right: Visitors grasp one another 100 feet off the ground on the center’s ropes course after one dives from a platform to reach his partner.

This is me Becoming Moore Jr. By J.D. Strong II

“This is me,” said Larry “L-Duz” Moore Jr., who bellowed with pride and admiration for his block, where he grew up and lived for almost 20 years, Wood Avenue, on the Southside of Syracuse. “I was born and raised here.” Moore reminisces how the Southside of Syracuse had all the best barbershops: House of Hair, Blues Brothers, Nice Cuts, Cuse Cuts and Tommy’s. Born into a family of barbers, Moore said he was influenced by the shop environment. His father, uncle and other stylists dressed fashionably, had nice cars, shoes and clothes. Seeing the barber lifestyle weekly affected the younger Moore and he knew then being a barber could be a way of life for him. He has now been a barber for more than 10 years. In 2009, at 27 years old, Moore was trying to find his way through life. His Uncle, James Brown, a barber and influence on Moore’s life, asked him what he was going to do and then told him to “pick up the clippers to cut some hair.” That same week, while at G Rollin’ studios recording music, Moore, whose nickname L-Duz stems from him doing it all, was challenged by his friend to give him a haircut. He tried but failed, cutting a bald spot into his friend’s head. According to Moore, it was the first time in his life he had experienced failure, and in an attempt to never feel that way again, he started to learn the trade.

“It was an embarrassment,” Moore said. “I wasn’t perfect, and I strive for perfection. I enjoy putting a smile on people’s faces and seeing their reactions to how they feel. God gave me the power to transform people. That’s how I get through my day.” For three years, Moore practiced by giving free haircuts weekly to children at the community facility founded by his mother, the Mary Nelson Youth Center on South Salina Street between East Lafayette Avenue and East Brighton Avenue. Moore said he continued to ruin some haircuts but learned how to use the clippers more effectively and how to style different textures of hair. Improving over those years and eventually getting his license, Moore then began cutting hair at Cuse Cuts. After six years there, Moore received a phone call asking for a favor and presenting a business opportunity. “I was on parole and had to finish out my [prison] time,” said Nick Brice, co-owner of Life on the Edge Barber Lounge. “I needed someone to save my barbershop, and I didn’t know any other barbers that worked as hard as I work, besides him.” Never having trouble filling his chair, Moore’s move to Life on the Edge Barber Lounge brought him even more clientele, but now Moore was learning about a different

Above: Larry Moore Jr. shoots dice with co-workers at Life on the Edge Barber Lounge. Moore enjoys gambling on dice games. Previous Page: Moore waits for a client outside his shop; Moore’s appointment schedule is normally booked solid.

Above: Moore holds his youngest son, Jihad Moore, during his ninth birthday party.

part of the city. He was getting to know the Northside of Syracuse and its people. The haircut styles were higher fades and tapers, also known as “the Nick Brice cut,” but Moore adapted quickly. He then learned how to manage the shop and added his work ethic to the managing too. The shop had three barbers when he first arrived in 2015, but Moore and a newly released Brice moved the shop to a larger space in 2016 at 617 North Salina, which allowed them to expand their roster to 10 barbers. As manager and co-owner of Life on the Edge, Moore starts his days at the shop around 7 a.m. and doesn’t stop his efforts until closing at 7 p.m. He collects booth rents from the employees, he pays shop bills and handles any business issues each barber may have, all while still servicing his clients. In 2020, business was consistent and still improving, with the barbers bringing in new clients. Moore was styling as many as 26 clients a day;

his schedule was booked for weeks. Tired from standing close to 12 hours a day, Moore said he would think of his motivation in order to keep focused and going forward: his two sons, Jahdire Gunn, 12, and Jihad Moore, 9. “I always wanted to be the man of the house, the ideal father and the one the kids run to,” said Moore. “I was raised amongst strong men, and they did whatever they had to do to make sure there was food on our plates. I just want to live up to that, by any means.” Moore was presented with trials and tribulations in 2020. First, he was diagnosed with a bone disease that restricts his movement and his ability to stand for long periods. “The pain I go through in the morning is ridiculous,” he said. “My joints are tight, and everything hurts.” Then COVID-19 struck, and Moore unknowingly caught it. He drudged on, cutting hair despite not feeling well, accidentally spreading the sickness to the other barbers on his side of the shop.

“God gave me the power to transform people.”

All the infected employees in the barbershop recovered, but COVID-19 and his bone disease diagnosis were only the beginning. Despite having a “weird” feeling about the day, on Sept. 28, Moore celebrated his 38th birthday by popping champagne with coworkers and friends. In the midst of the festivities, Moore’s phone began to ring. Moore’s father, Larry Moore Sr., was in the hospital. His bone cancer had spread, and he wasn’t going to survive the day. Moore made it to the hospital in time to see his father on a ventilator. Despite being exhausted from his fight with bone cancer, the elder Moore conversed with his oldest child and wished him a happy birthday. Then, Moore Sr. took off the ventilator mask, sat up on his own and passed away. In that moment, Moore Jr. learned a final and lasting message from his father: Be strong for your family, always. “He showed us strength in the end and asked us all to follow him by taking care of each other and loving one another,” said Moore. He says he has gained a clearer view of people, relationships and the future. He also figured what he wants to do next: Start a barber school. Moore enjoys teaching and freely gives lessons in cutting hair to those who truly want to learn the craft. “You’ll never know how far you are willing to take it until you face something that is willing to take you,” said Moore. “You will never know how strong you are until something that can weaken you faces you.” With all he has endured, Moore realizes that he has gone through different phases in his life, barbering being the constant. He says that he feels L-Duz is over and now he is becoming Larry Moore Jr., father, son, brother, friend and barber.

Moore closes and leaves the shop after another 12-hour day.

Searching for

O NORMA M

A global pandemic alters how people continue mundane and everyday life By Alora Blosch The leaves begin to fall to the cold, November ground and serve as a reminder that winter is approaching yet again; seven months and almost a full set of seasons have come and gone, but the pandemic remains. When homebound people do venture outside, they contend with their own hot breath and restricting masks; instead of friendly smiles, they encounter squinting eyes; they confront plexiglass walls at grocery stores, restaurants and drive-thrus. This is life in the new normal.

Mariah Harder holds her children Kerry and Anthony at Beak and Skiff Apple Orchard. Days later, news broke about the location’s potential exposure to COVID-19 after five guests tested positive.

A couple walks their dog in downtown Syracuse, N.Y., where Gov. Cuomo has implemented a mask mandate.

“

My business needed to open to bring in revenue or else it would have failed, and I would have failed.

“

hile some people attempt to find some normalcy in the uncertainty, others remain hidden away, protecting themselves and others from the risk of exposure. “I’m still the crazy friend who refuses to go out anywhere,” said Joey DiStefano, a student and teacher’s aide at Syracuse University. “I’m realizing one of my greatest fears is hurting people, so the thought of spreading a plague is just unimaginable.” DiStefano follows three steps for staying safe. He always wears a mask, even if it is outside or when visiting a friend’s home. He always accepts hand sanitizer when it’s offered. He doesn’t go out to restaurants or businesses unless he must. Jon Page, on the other hand, opened a bar in the middle of the pandemic, four months after his original plan. “At first I quarantined for two months in my apartment,” said Page in a Facebook interview. “I did avoid crowds and ordered a lot of food to go. But after four months of not operating and still paying rent, my business needed to open to bring in revenue, or else it would have failed, and I would have failed.”

Page opened Three Lives despite state social distancing measures limiting him to a 25% operating capacity, while Shannon Wilde also experienced a life-changing event when she moved from Florida to New York to live with her formerly longdistance partner Jenny Mullinax. “Before our move, my girlfriend was stationed in Japan while I was in Florida, and the only time we got to see each other was over Skype. Now we are with each other 24/7,” said Wilde while smiling and looking toward her partner. “It definitely accelerated our relationship, but in a really great way. If we had any differences in living together early on, we worked through them very quickly. While it has helped me strengthen my current relationship, it has hurt my ability to make new ones.” Wilde had plans to start a book club and meet new people while her girlfriend was going through the advanced military photojournalism program at the S.I. Newhouse School of Public Communications, but the nature of the pandemic has made some people reluctant to meet new people face-to-face, a luxury now reserved for friends and family.

An employee at Lemon Grass restaurant stands outside the kitchen during his break.

A couple dances to live music outside Wunderbar during a performance by Silver Arrow Band.

“

The problem was there before, but the depression was a little bit more manageable.

“

According to Katerra Davis, a licensed marriage and family therapist in Victorville, California, the inability to form new relationships during lockdown has had a massive impact on mental health. Davis quit her former job providing therapy to a homeless community in order to work at her private practice full-time. In March, she had approximately 14 clients a week and now has 38 plus a waiting list, with many of her clients experiencing more significant mental health issues related to the pandemic. “The biggest thing right now is depression and anxiety,” said Davis. “The problem was there before, but the depression was a little bit more manageable. Now with COVID isolations, the lack of socialization, and limited self-care and being able to go out, I think it has increased feelings of isolation.”

A girl waits outside a corn maze at Tim’s Pumpkin Patch in LaFayette, N.Y., before Halloween.

Winsome Wild By Sam Brooks

he engine roars to life, disturbing the still waters surrounding it as it exhales soft blasts of smoke while the blades propel the small craft forward. Seated in the boat, several hunters sit in quiet anticipation of their destination — a duck blind tucked away on the west shore of Oneida Lake, or Lady O’, as they call it. At the wheel, Oakley “Oak” Clement navigates his group toward their destination and cuts the engine when they reach the point from which they launch their decoys — plastic ducks intended to lure living ones into their zone of fire. With the decoys deployed, Clement and his crew guide the slowly rocking boat gently to the marshy shore, disembark and place a camouflaged covering over it to avoid giving their prey any increased chance of spotting their position. The hunters slink toward the cover provided by the tried and true blind they have used all season. Stools, snacks and shotguns are unpacked as the group settles in for the long haul — for many, excitement swells from the imminent opportunity to shoot waterfowl. But, for Clement, peace washes over his spirit as he gazes into Creation. Clement has spent his entire life feeling as though he was called toward nature, and to the water in particular. “Water is my calm spot,” Clement said adding that as a young boy, he used to leave home with his fishing rod and boat, coming back only when it started to get dark. Hunter Oakley Clement pulls a camouflage cover over his boat to conceal it from birds flying overhead.

Rob Resch and Matt Bobenhausen fire their shotguns toward a group of waterfowl. Hunters follow strict daily bag limits from the Department of Environmental Conservation during hunting season, which lasts from mid-October to mid-December.

The wing and talon of a felled mallard drake. Mallards are considered to be the most abundant waterfowl and are found in most bodies of water across North America. Left page: The sun rises on the western shore of central New York’s largest in-state lake, Oneida Lake or ‘Lady O’ as the locals call it.

“It’s an addiction that you can’t really get away from. ... Water has always been my addiction,” Clement said. When Clement moved away from Liverpool to the Adirondacks he was primarily a fisherman, but after his return home years later, he inexplicably felt disconnected from nature — a connection that even fishing his “old spots” couldn’t restore. However, he attributes his passion for birds to his parents’ fascination with them, as well as his lingering ache to be in nature. Both led him to pursue waterfowling, the sport of shooting ducks, geese and other large aquatic birds. A self-employed landscaper, Clement says one of the appeals of waterfowling over deer hunting for him is the ability to “hunt ducks for two hours in the morning and still have a productive day.” Now, as the coronavirus has racked the world and Clement has taken to homeschooling his two daughters, the benefit of being able to hunt in the early morning and be home at a reasonable time has become even more important. However, due to this new responsibility, Clement not been able to go hunting as often as he normally would. Another unfortunate effect of the pandemic is that he has not been able to bring as many service members on fishing and hunting trips as in previous years. In 2015, Clement reached out in an outdoors focused Facebook group, Oneida Lake Diehards, to service members interested in joining his ventures. “Immediately I was getting family members, not even the guys themselves, recommending somebody and I would reach out to them ... and they’d have a blast,” Clement said. He said he finds his joy from sharing experiences with others and building lasting relationships — not from shooting birds. “I could care less if I shoot something,” Clement said. “If I get that little bit of time in nature with just me and another person, or a few other people, and that time spiritually with God, my day is complete, and I’m happier that way.” Never charging a dime, Clement believes that sharing his passion for the winsome wild is a reward enough.

Keith Tripp returns successful with the coot he shot. Coots are still legal to hunt, though not technically waterfowl.

Left: Flowers sit on a table at fifth-generation family business Farone and Son Funeral Home. The Farones had to turn people away from some services to comply with state COVID-19 restrictions.

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THE “VILLAGE WITHIN A CITY”

From street corners to mansions, this avenue bears witness to America’s diversity. by Micah Merrill

A FUSION OF THE WORLD can be found on Teall Avenue — a street full of conflict and resolution. From street corners to mansions, this avenue bears witness to America’s diversity.

Baron Rice has lived on the streets of Syracuse for more than 15 years, but he moved six years ago to claim the corner of I-690 and Teall Avenue. Recognizing the southern end of the street as one of the busiest, and most lucrative, intersections in Syracuse, Rice shares the corner with a stray black cat and, most recently, a squab.

Baron Rice checks the baby pigeon he rescued the previous night from a stray black cat.

“THIS IS THE CLEANEST STREET CORNER IN THE CITY. I TREAT IT LIKE MY HOUSE.” Baron Rice Land once owned by a veteran of the Revolutionary War, the area is now home to a diverse mix of immigrants. Subsequently, the area has adopted the slogan “Generations of Many Nations.” Along what would later become part of the nearly three-mile stretch known as Teall Ave., Eastwood became part of Syracuse in 1926. Eastwood in many ways still remains as advertised — the “village within a city.” According to city revitalization documents, it is one of the most densely populated parts of the city with approximately 10,000 people per square mile, or nearly 16 people per acre. Joel, a 43-year-old who declined to give his last name, collects empty cans along the rain-slick, uneven sidewalk near the area of Teall and James Streets. He moved here from Buffalo six years ago to live with his girlfriend on a street that used to be filled with millionaires. “This used to be beautiful. That’s what I was told,” said Joel. Although revitalization efforts by the city continue throughout Syracuse, this area endures as one of the most intact collections of fine residential architecture in the city. The homes illustrate the residential development of the city for 80 years, extending from the late 1850’s to the mid 1930’s. Numerous colorful and distinguished examples of picturesque Spanish Colonial Revival, Tudor and Georgian Revival Style residences are represented here. And the diversity doesn’t stop with architecture. In a neighborhood where the number of foreign-born families has dramatically increased over the past two decades by a robust 42.5%, and more than 90% have stayed for longer than a year, immigration to metro

THEIR FUTURES ARE SHAPING THE FUTURE OF SYRACUSE.

Above: Customers pick up groceries from Jerusalem Super Market late Sunday evening. Right: Ranka Krasnic cuts the final dahlia blooms of the summer from her front yard.

Syracuse has also increased the total housing value in the region by more than $406.5 million. Half of a mile farther north, in a modest ranch house, Ranka and Nenad Krasnic make a better life after immigrating here six years ago from Croatia. Avid gardeners, the Krasnics have a blossoming yard full of red and yellow varietals and dahlia brought over from Croatia — a showcase to passersby. Just inside the north corner of Teall Ave., Mike and Moe Aye opened a bottle return center two years ago. They immigrated here from Thailand in 2004. “We lived there during Ebola and now we are here,” said Moe Aye. Moe didn’t choose to live here but said she has grown to appreciate her neighborhood. She also says that as the global health pandemic continues, people now feel more desperate. The ability to get money from the bottle deposit prompted a recent middle-of-the-night break-in at her recycling center — one of almost a half-dozen small businesses on the

street to experience crime since the start of the pandemic. “Right now there is a lot of trouble in the world,” she said speaking about COVID-19 repercussions. Whether standing on one foot, wishing good karma on cardboard signs, or giving high-fives to drivers waiting for the traffic light to change, Rice said the world needs kindness now more than ever.

“I TRY TO BRING HUMOR OR SOME SMILES TO PEOPLE EVERY DAY I’M OUT HERE ON THIS STREET CORNER.” Baron Rice

Right: Teall Avenue on a late fall afternoon.

LOREM IPSUM DOLOR SIT AMET, AD ANTIOPAM REPREHENDUNT EUM. HAS EA QUEM NONUMY, ID VEL SEMPER QUODSI EI VIX, MEI TALE NOSTRUD GLORIATUR TE.

FAITH RESTORED RECENTLY ADOPTED HE ALTH PROTOCOLS FOS TER A SENSE OF FAITH IN CHURCHGOER S By Natasha MacKenzie

Overwhelmingly beautiful architecture, yet eerily strange, walking into a church now seems unusual and macabre since health protocols have increased. Welcoming eyes are all that is left to be seen in the face of the door greeter. They instruct you to sanitize your hands, sign in, and another person takes a reading of your temperature with a laser thermometer. Once cleared, signs and stickers direct visitors where to go and in what direction. In Syracuse, New York, Christians had to change how they practice their religion once churches closed the doors to in-person services in early March due to the COVID-19 pandemic and increasing restrictions. After a few weeks, several churches changed how they conducted religious services. Assumption Church started streaming live on Facebook, YouTube and Amazon Alexa products with more than 300 views per Mass. Catholic friars from the Assumption Church also adopted new and modern ways of connecting with congregants. Friar Nick Spanno started a podcast to teach important messages of the Bible, and, with friar Rick Riccoli, he created a series available on YouTube.

A church near an outdoor worship concert, Dewitt, N.Y.

Pastor Alicia Wood of University United Methodist Church started to become more involved in the church’s Facebook account. Almost every day, she is livestreaming, offering words of encouragement, giving updates about the church and teaching viewers about the Bible. After months of offering services only online, churches were allowed by the state to reopen for in-person worship and prayer. In an attempt to keep congregants and clergy safe, the church developed new protocols. Upon entering the main chapel, guests are asked to provide their name, phone number and the number of people in their party. An usher at the door checks temperatures with a laser thermometer. Disposable copies of the text read during mass are offered because Bibles and hymn books are no longer available on the back of the pews. Since June, churches also have limited in-person capacity to 33%. Donations are no longer collected in baskets passed from pew to pew but at the door in a collection box. Offers and tithes can be given online as well. Assumption Church has also changed how they practice communion. Catholics now stand on floor stickers, designated 6 feet apart with two rows of hand-sanitizing machines. After receiving the wafer, each congregant moves to a sticker to the left or right and pull down his or her mask to quickly consume. Because singing praises is especially dangerous as aerosolized particles remain longer in areas with decreased ventilation such as churches, worship leaders have begun to teach American sign language to the congregation using prerecorded videos featuring church musicians.

Sunday Mass at the Assumption Church in Syracuse, N.Y.

Top: A statue stands in the grotto of Assumption Church. Bottom: Candles are lit in the grotto of Assumption Church.

The doors of Assumption Church remain closed during Sunday Mass.

Lisa Jarmuz administers an injection on herself to prepare her body for a fetal embryo transfer. The transfer is part of Jarmuz’s in vitro fertilization treatment.

hope

a treatment for

For some couples, contraceptives aren’t the only thing stopping them from getting pregnant. It’s a disease called infertility.

By Neysa Canfield

Lisa and Joe Jarmuz comfort each other after being notified that their second in vitro fertilization attempt failed. According to CNY Fertility, 30% of women conceive during their first attempt at IVF.

Tears ran down her face as her shaky hands laid the phone on the kitchen table after speaking with a nurse from CNY Fertility in Syracuse. After months of medications, injections and optimism, Lisa Jarmuz had to face the truth that her second cycle of in vitro fertilization treatment had failed. Jarmuz said she remembers wanting to be a mother since she was a teenager. Growing up in a dysfunctional family and with no father, Jarmuz said she wanted to give her future children a childhood full of care and love that she didn’t get to experience. But in 2016, her dream of becoming a mother was threatened when she was diagnosed with endometriosis. Jarmuz was told that her endometrial tissue was growing outside of her uterus and on her ovaries. If left untreated, the disease could cause Jarmuz to be infertile along with pain and discomfort on a daily basis. With the support of her family and her husband, Jarmuz decided to undergo surgery to remove the endometrial tissue. After a successful surgery and without damage to the reproductive organs, Jarmuz decided it was time to start trying to conceive. However, after two years of no success, Jarmuz and her husband decided to take the next step – IVF.

Approximately 15% of women in the United States struggle with infertility for a range of reasons, such as ovulation disorder and age, leading them to seek assistance with medical intervention. However the cost of IVF isn’t cheap, and the outcome isn’t guaranteed. The average cost of a full IVF cycle is between $4,900 to $30,000, and the success rate averages 37% for women under the age of 35, with rates decreasing with age. “It’s frustrating and scary sometimes, but Joe and I stay positive and follow the doctor’s plan in hopes that we will get a baby out of the whole process,” said Jarmuz, a 41-yearold bartender. But the fear of the overall journey isn’t the only difficult part; physical and emotional agony also play a key role. Women have to endure ovarian stimulation, involving multiple injections and medications, which can cause can cause ovaries to swell and enlarge if not properly monitored. They also undergo processes for egg retrieval, fertilization and embryo development, as well as embryo transfer, according to the CNY Fertility website. Lastly, there is the emotional anguish of the highly anticipated pregnancy test, which many women take multiple times. “My stomach is full of bruises, and my body is sore from the constant injections and procedures that I have to

Walking toward her front door, Lisa Jarmuz departs her house to go to an appointment at CNY Fertility in Syracuse, N.Y. Jarmuz has been a patient of the clinic since 2018.

Steam comes out of Jarmuz’s tea kettle as it signals that water is boiling. Jarmuz switched to decaffeinated teas and gave up alcohol as part of her in vitro fertilization treatment.

ndergo, but I personally think all this physical pain is u worth it,” said Jarmuz. In her home office, Jarmuz has a box that holds all her used syringes, vials and medications to help remind her of how strong she is and everything she is physically capable of doing. However, regardless of how strong or hopeful Jarmuz is about her journey, the treatment change the odds. According to CNY Fertility, 30% of women conceive during their first attempt at IVF, leaving the rest to either try again or look for a different option to expand their family. Yet the hardest part of the journey isn’t seeing the statistics, according to Jarmuz, it’s hearing comments about their childless life from strangers, friends and family. “I constantly get told, ‘You and Joe need to hurry up and have a baby,’ and all I want to do is show them my bruises and tell them I’m trying,” said Jarmuz. With two unsuccessful cycles of IVF, Jarmuz said she hasn’t lost hope. “Sometimes it feels as if I am failing everyone around me, and that hurts more than the negative pregnancy test,” said Jarmuz. “I just have to remind myself that everything will be OK and not let myself fall into depression when things don’t go according to plan.” Jarmuz said she is open about her infertility and hopes that her journey will inspire other women who are going through IVF and educate those who don’t know about life with infertility. “Infertility is nothing to be embarrassed about, and if sharing my journey can help a woman or couple know that they aren’t alone, then I think I’ve done my job.”

“

Sometimes it feels as if I am failing everyone around me, and that hurts more than the negative pregnancy test.

”

Jarmuz cuddles with one of her three dogs after coming home from her fetal embryo transfer. Two embryos were transferred into her uterus during the procedure.

In the midst of a global pandemic, solace comes in uncommon forms. By Allison Lotz

Public health actions, such as social distancing, can make people feel isolated and lonely and can increase stress and anxiety.

According to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention website, an estimated 6.6% of American adults aged 18 and over had symptoms of depressive disorder from January–June 2019. During the same time frame in 2020, the numbers rose to an estimated 34%.

2020 refuses to pass quietly. It began as years always do. People across the nation gathered and counted down the remaining hours. Then it happened. Millions of glasses of champagne simultaneously launched skyward as the final seconds of the year passed; well intended resolutions floated around the social landscapes of celebrations across the country. This new year was sure to be something special. January came and went as fast as New Year’s resolutions lost steam and died. Then came February, and with it the mundane transformed its appearance as word of a deadly virus outbreak began saturating the news. February greeted March as the virus continued to spread around the world. And then on March 11, the off-and-running new year screeched to a halt as the world froze. By July 23, the World Health Organization was recording over 200,000 cases daily. “It felt like my life plans were constantly rerouting with no real destination in sight,” said Allie Westbrook, a Syracuse University graduate student who recently earned her bachelor’s degree in sound recording technology. “There would be no walking across the stage in my cap and gown, no bear hug goodbyes with the friends I spent the past four years with. I felt like I’d lost the future I had been so excited for.” As time crept forward, people began adapting to life amid the global pandemic.

There were still 24 hours in a day, yet people seemed to have gained time. Many headed outside. Shopping and entertainment were replaced with explorations along neighborhood sidewalks. Families embarked on expeditions of area nature trials. Solace had come in the form of new opportunities left in the wake of the coronavirus’s destruction. Lungs rejoiced in the fresh air. Feet left their shoes behind for streams and rivers. Ears welcomed the melody of the breeze passing through the treetops. Hands released their grip on virtual realities and held one another. And eyes reveled as they took in sights often overlooked. “I went hiking and walking every single day in the summer of 2020,” said Westbrook. “I wanted to feel like I was moving forward even though the world around me had stopped.” On the surface, it brought chaos, sickness and death. But beneath the tragedies, something came that many people didn’t know they needed; the coronavirus brought families closer together. And while the new year didn’t bring what people wanted, 2020 delivered a reminder of what’s truly important. Alex Henninger, a videographer in the U.S. Army said he became more productive working from home, because he knew that his family would be there instantly when he was done. “Being around my family was like learning who they were all over again.,” he said. “It showed me what I’ve been missing.”

Coping with stress in a healthy way will make you, the people you care about and your community stronger.

Understanding the risk to yourself and people you care about can help you connect with others and make an outbreak less stressful.

AT A STANDSTILL BY DOING WHAT HE LOVES, MARK CARFAGNO KEEPS HIS FAMILY BUSINESS MOVING FORWARD, BUT WITH THE UNCERTAINTY OF THE NEXT

P A Y C H E C K . BY KELLY L. TIMNEY

Previous Image: From his sun porch window, Mark Carfagno watches colorful autumn leaves dance in the air on their way to the ground from his 1845 cobblestone farm house in Jamesville, N.Y. Left: Carfagno plays with the newest addition to his Maine Coon breeding program, a male cat by the name of Rum Tum Tugger whose feline parents are originally from Russia. Right: Walking through the Clark Reservation State Park in Jamesville, Carfagno takes in the nature around him, bracing himself on large trees as he moves around the forest. Last Page: Carfagno prepares to move cabinets to pull out a double-ended car, which has been stored in the back corner of his barn for over 14 years.

hopeless romantic and lover of things from the past, Mark Carfagno had spent a decade taking care of his ailing mother, and after her death, it was finally time to focus on his dreams. It was time to live his life. Then everything changed; what was once normal suddenly wasn’t, and the world fell into a global pandemic. Long before the first case of COVID-19 emerged in Wuhan, China, Carfagno wanted to set his son, Mark Jr., up for future success by turning the family farm into a multifarious business. During the spring of 2020, New York state Gov. Andrew Cuomo signed an executive order putting the state on pause. All non-essential businesses closed their in-office functions and all non-essential gatherings of individuals of any size for any reason were prohibited. New Yorkers found themselves amid an indefinite pause, and Carfagno was among the affected. Carfagno incorporated his and his son’s interests, passions and hobbies into the facets of the business. Becoming vendors at outdoor events and Renaissance fairs, playing in a superhero rock band, operating a Magic the Gathering brick-and-mortar store and karate studio, pet breeding, and owning a pet grooming and supply store from a side building off the main house were all things that were under the um-

brella of their family business at the farm. Wanting to relocate, they closed the location near downtown Syracuse a month before the shutdown began, leaving them with no grand reopening and eliminating a source of income for their small family. But Carfagno’s mentality was primed for the uncertainty of what 2020 held. His mantra is simple:

“Do what you love because life is too short for anything else.” Carfagno has stored the merchandise from the closed facilities in two barns and an outbuilding on the farm, where ornate, forgotten industrial gadgets, art, antique furniture and magical games span from floor to ceiling The Superhero rock band that he was in played its last show on St. Patrick’s Day to a 50% capacity venue and has not played or practiced since then. The old music room of his 1845 cobblestone farmhouse in Jamesville, New York, where his band gathered weekly to rehearse, now sits in silence as the equipment remains untouched. The one aspect of the pre-pandemic business that has kept him hopeful and moving forward is the love he has for his furry, four-legged friends. Carfagno’s mother was a professional American Kennel Club handler and breeder in

the '50s and he followed her path raising purebred AKC registered Yorkshire Terriers. Over the years, he expanded his breeding to also include Cat Fancy Association-certified Maine Coon cats, AKC German Shepherds, and Biewer terriers, which are projected to be recognized by the AKC in January 2021. Selling puppies got Carfagno and his son through the summer when the pet store and grooming business fell to the wayside as most long-time customers assumed they were closed due to the shutdown even though they were still selling pet food. Carfagno worked out a social distancing solution for customers interested in giving a puppy a “furever” home, as Carfagno calls it. He would release a litter of puppies in his fenced backyard for masked customers to make their selection and then he’d ask them to leave their payment on a disinfected picnic table. Customers can also browse for food, collars, leashes, pet beds, litter boxes, cages, puppy pads, even little sweaters and coats for small dogs and cats, eliminating the need to search for essential pet supplies in another location. Carfagno said the pandemic helped his business due to the demand in people wanting pets. “We didn’t have to think about selling puppies because they put on national news that everyone should have a puppy or pet during these troubled times,” he said.

Once the litter is gone, a 6-month or more waiting period is in place before any particular female can be bred again. Factoring in the birth and weaning time, it’s about one full year per female from beginning to end. Due to the increased interest in domestic animals during the pandemic, he now has a waiting list a few years long. As the state began to lift its restrictions, Carfagno was able to host the newest Magic the Gathering tournaments from his home. Abiding by state-mandated guidelines, a limit of six to eight players for a mandated 3-hour-max play limit per week, Carfagno checked all players’ temperatures at the door. Being in seclusion for many months took its toll on the Carfagno household, and the global pandemic was directly to blame, but they didn’t focus on things that they couldn’t change. The only things they could affect were their own personal attitudes, outlooks and efforts. Carfagno’s midterm goals include expanding his breeding program. To accomplish that, he says he first needs to make room on his property by selling the overflowing antiques and magic store items, clearing out the abandoned storage items people have left behind, and building a kennel to give the German Shepherds an appropriate living space. But, finding good help to accomplish all of these goals is difficult, and for Carfagno the more pressing tasks at hand are to train the new puppies and monitor three incoming litters of Yorkshire puppies and Maine Coon kittens, all of which will be born by year’s end. With the uncertainty of how the next year will be, Carfagno shares words of encouragement as he challenges others to push themselves to live their best life. “Happiness is a choice that we make every day when we wake up; it’s not controlled by outside forces. You choose to be happy or not.”

separated An exploration of personal experiences from going out during COVID-19

f it was a fall Saturday evening in 2019, Milanne Wischmeyer would’ve been listening to “Juice” by Lizzo and getting ready to go out with friends. But it’s 2020, and she says she doesn’t get as dressed up as before and really only goes to one bar due to safety concerns. Early in 2020, the COVID-19 pandemic changed the landscape of nightlife and evening social settings. Formerly bustling venues in Syracuse, New York, are now takeout restaurants and drink stops with some locations having limited seating available. Downtown cityscapes are emptier now. Gov. Andrew Cuomo declared a disaster emergency in New York state March 7, 2020, and as of early November, there have been more than 60 updates to the executive order. The state has begun to allow nightlife destinations to reopen, but with drastic changes.

Rain Lounge remains open, and despite small crowds, they keep the lights and music the same.

together

By T. Logan Keown

Walton Street was blocked off from traffic to allow outdoor seating and social distancing as a way to keep restaurants and nightlife establishments open.

Some people have made a decision to stay home, but others are going out, chasing a sense of togetherness in a world separated by six feet. “I feel bad for all of these local businesses that are struggling to keep their doors open,” said Wischmeyer, who is from central New York. She said she’s choosing to go out despite the changes. “My favorite bar, Wunderbar — a safe, queer space — is struggling financially because of the restrictions.” Important restrictions are in place for bars and restaurants: physical distance must be maintained between tables, customers and employees; individuals must wear face coverings except when they are seated with their party of 10 or fewer; and capacity is limited to 50%. Many bars and restaurants rely heavily on nightlife crowds. However, according to a study posted by Statista, only 35% of New Yorkers say they are very or somewhat comfortable with eating indoors at an establishment during the pandemic.

Wischmeyer understands the restrictions and changes, but still misses the carefree normalcy of a pre-pandemic world. Being willing and able to go out during COVID-19 reminds her the world can’t stop spinning, but “we must make sure we are doing our best to keep our community safe.” While those people who go out are doing their best to enjoy their time and support local businesses, the paradigm shift of nightlife is not unnoticed. “The major difference is the dancing is gone,” said Jack Hall, one of the Wischmeyer’s friends. “Now, if I go out, it’s one or two friends, and we try to be careful about everything.” Predictions and reports published by the governor say travel-related cases and community contact transmissions of COVID-19 continue to be documented and are expected to increase over the winter. The rise in cases has elevated risks and raises the question: Will there be another shutdown? Friends Lydia Roe and Randall Smith spend an evening together at Wunderbar sitting at a table facing West Fayette Street.

“Trivia to Save Us All” at Wunderbar was able to remain mostly unchanged under the heel of the pandemic.

“The major difference is the dancing is gone.” Wunderbar in Syracuse, N.Y., continues operating in the face of COVID-19.

Hall acknowledges the consequences of a shutdown, but he doesn’t see how the state can contain the virus without “hard and fast” government action. He thinks there may be a need for an “Italy-level lockdown” before they’ll be able to start finding a sense of normalcy. Both Hall and Wischmeyer are unsure of the specific actions needed to facilitate a full recovery from the pandemic, but they agree community safety is the priority.

The pandemic has changed a once bustling landscape; even the bike paths on the city creek walks are empty.

Undressing a Pandemic Salt City Burlesque finds new and creative ways to perform for their community BY RITO SMITH

tanding in the middle of a closed off street in full wardrobe, masks and makeup, Talia Shenandoah and members of the Salt City Burlesque Troupe film as each member takes their turn performing a solo act. Only this time, they weren’t dancing for an audience, they were dancing for a camera. Adapting to the COVID restrictions and guidelines set in place by the New York state governor, the troupe has developed a fully virtual experience for their followers. They have increased their social media presence and following, filmed videos, and worked with producers to create live virtual shows to be viewed from around the world. Working with Flame Night Fever, a local online drag show that developed from the desire to perform during the pandemic, the troupe was able to expand into streaming their shows through Twitch, an online platform. The troupe was founded in 2015 by Shenandoah and Christian Suchon in Syracuse, New York, using the name

Previous page: At the end of the Salt City Burlesque viewing party at Wunderbar in downtown Syracuse, N.Y., all in attendance were invited to celebrate with a dance party. Top left: Talia Shenandoah is the co-founder of the Salt City Burlesque troupe. She primarily deals with booking and marketing but also enjoys getting on stage. Top middle: Dani Owens is a flow artist who specializes in hula hoop, fire fans and belly dancing. She draws inspiration from her love of science fiction. Top right: Tino Lopez works in street art and prop creation as well as performing on stage. Bottom: Shawnee Shenandoah, while usually working the door and helping out on stage, recently debuted her first burlesque act.

“Salt City Burlesque,” a reference to the historical name used for Syracuse. The goal of the troupe is to make inclusive, vaudeville style entertainment that features music, dance, comedy, striptease and flow arts using fire, hula hoop and props, all while educating the public on the historical significance of the art form. Although they’d been performing regularly at local venues prior to the pandemic, the group was forced to stop meeting and performing in public when the state shut down nonessential functions. Annual events were canceled, and many members who lived elsewhere were no longer able to travel and perform with the group. In July, after months of quarantine and self-isolation, the group decided it was time to try and figure out how to share their love for the art with the community once again. “I was tired of sitting around and waiting for this pandemic to end,” said Shenandoah. “I got some equipment together and video editing software and

"Our goal has always just been to share, share our art, share our experience, share our love of dance and performing with the community."

started figuring out how I could best create art that the community would love.” Months later and after countless hours of planning, filming and editing, the troupe was ready to start promoting themselves again. They updated teasers to their Facebook and Instagram accounts, starting with performer highlights that showcased small parts of individual performances and ended with an invitation to a live Twitch stream. There was also information for a limited-capacity viewing party at Wunderbar in downtown Syracuse. “We finally had most of the pieces together, but we still needed someone experienced enough to run the technical side of the stream,” said Shenandoah. So she reached out to the producers of Flame Night Fever, who had recently figured out how to stream risqué content without being shut down because of online terms of service. Together they hosted a party at Wunderbar where they were able to finally interact with the audience while drinking and dancing. “Our goal has always just been to share, share our art, share our experience, share our love of dance and performing with the community,” said Shenandoah. “We were successful regardless of all of the restrictions that have come from the pandemic. We are going to continue to adapt and thrive. We aren’t going anywhere.”

Above: Dani Owens uses multicolored hula hoops as part of a filmed solo act. Opposite top: Tilia Cordata, a drag performer from Ithaca, N.Y., runs the technical side of streaming drag and burlesque performances online. Opposite bottom: James Cavanaugh is a model and actor who uses burlesque to connect with people in authentic ways.

Jon Page had planned to open his business, named Three Lives Bar, in spring of 2020, but he was postponed until August 2020 because of the COVID-19 pandemic.

Treasured

support By Tristan Biese

Local businesses find strength and solace through the care shown from customers during shutdown

bar, diner, salon, comic book store and an antique store were all forced to close their doors when an unexpected pandemic struck Syracuse, New York. For the owners and employees, one thing was similar: their community was there for them. In spring of 2020, COVID-19 caused non-essential businesses to close until at least June. Some businesses, such as Syracuse Antiques Exchange and Collectibles Galore, were able to transition their operations to online and curbside services. However, some services like haircuts and bars were impossible to do remotely or through delivery, which made things difficult for the owners and employees of JJ’s Miss Syracuse Diner, Three Lives Bar and Hair Studio 5.

“They’re like an extended family.” - Shannon Alling

“We really only did between a tenth and an eighth of the business we normally would have done during those months that we shut down,” said Matthew Pastore, head manager of Syracuse Antiques Exchange. Not only did businesses as a whole take a hit, but business owners and employees were also affected by the stress the pandemic brought. “I think the hardest part was making sure everyone’s mentally OK,” said Pastore. For Pastore’s employees, the change in work hours, the change in how they must interact with customers and the fear of getting sick was stressful. Michael Tompkins, owner of Collectibles Galore, agreed. “I lost friends, communication, the camaraderie that I used to have

one-on-one with customers,” said Tompkins. “I didn’t get to see the people. I didn’t get to talk to people. I was sitting at home, groping and moping about how I’m going to pay for the next dinner.” Even though the owners were able to adapt their businesses, it was still difficult for them because they deal in physical objects and person-to-person interactions. For these places, those relationships are what makes their businesses special. However, eight months later, these five businesses have been able to pull through, and according to them, it was all thanks to their patrons. “It doesn’t matter to them; pandemic shmandemic,” said Joe Todisco, owner of JJ’s Miss Syracuse Diner. “The regulars, thank God for

When Shannon Alling, owner of Hair Studio 5, reopened her business after the shutdown, health regulations limited her to 50% of her staff at a time.

Joe Todisco, owner of JJ’s Miss Syracuse Diner, typically closes his business during winter months. But this year, the pandemic forced him to be closed until June 2020, causing him to lose 30% of his normal annual income.

them. If it weren’t for them, I don’t know what I’d have.” When the businesses’ doors were closed, all five businesses said many customers would call, write or send emails just to see how the owners and their employees were doing, and they offered to help any way they could. “One day there was an envelope on the door, and it was just a note saying, ‘How are you? How is everything? I’ve been thinking of you.’ It was just so moving that people genuinely care,” Alling said. Whether a business has been open for nearly 30 years like the Syracuse Antiques Exchange, only several months like Three Lives Bar, or anything in between, the owners and employees have built strong relationships with their customers.

Without knowing whether or not he would be able to open his business, Jon Page, owner of Three Lives Bar, said he received a lot of support from his community. Alling echoed the same sentiments. “These people are so important. I owe them everything,” Alling said. “They’re like an extended family.” Three months after the pandemic completely shut down these five businesses, their doors finally opened, though still limited, and it was the regulars who were the first to walk through the doors. “COVID had an effect on my business, but I stood strong,” said Tompkins. “I came from not going under to becoming stronger from it … and it’s because I had people behind me.”

“The regulars, thank God for them.” - Joe Todisco

Matthew Pastore, head manager of Syracuse Antiques Exchange, was forced to lay off three quarters of the staff, but he rehired them when the store reopened in June 2020.

Casting Away Out-of-work anglers socially distance themselves from normalcy and isolate on the Salmon River By River Bruce

Just southwest of New York’s Adirondack Mountain region lies Pulaski, a small town with an alluring piscary: The Salmon River. As forests surrounding the river adopted hues of reds and yellows this fall, salmon swam upstream from Lake Ontario for a chance to spawn. Every year, the salmon must swim 40 miles against the current while avoiding the claws of wildlife and the hooks of fishermen, but the number of hooks was significantly higher in 2020. Rob Ripka, owner of Fat Nancy’s tackle shop, says Pulaski has seen the biggest increase in fishermen in more than 20 years because of the isolation measures caused by the coronavirus. “One of their main options was to go outside, and that led many to our tackle shop,” he said. From September through November, Instagram shows thousands of posts reflecting the influx of fishing under the Salmon River based on their location tags. This surge echoes similar trends seen around the country. Although sporting goods stores initially took a hit in retail sales, losing 45% of customers in March, they saw a 20% rise by June as compared

with pre-pandemic sales, according to a report by the U.S. Department of Commerce. Pulaski only has about 2,000 residents but is situated perfectly to capitalize on fishing commerce. Its proximity to Lake Ontario attracts tourism year-round, and Ripka estimates more than 5,000 anglers travel to the river per day for the salmon run from August to November. Jim Root, a Sportsman Channel TV host, started fishing Pulaski’s Douglaston Salmon Run when the pandemic paused the production of his show “Reel Braggin’ Rights.” Public-water fishing within city limits can be shoulder-toshoulder during salmon runs, but the DSR offers private fishing and limits the number of anglers per day. Root says being an up-and-coming TV host and producer is an irregular job anyway, especially in a pandemic. “There’s no work for me. I’m hunkered down in central New York, but in the fall, it’s not a bad place to be stuck.”

Root said he thinks its the bright pink coho salmon and the massive Chinook salmon that have people flocking to Pulaski. After around three years of life in Lake Ontario, these salmon began a trek to the place of their birth and death: Pulaski’s Salmon River Fish Hatchery and the waters close to it. In 1980, the state constructed this protected site in efforts to revive and enhance the salmon population of Lake Ontario and now stocks the lake with 2 million fish annually. Experts estimate that half of the river’s salmon spawn by swimming up a man-made stream system that leads them to the inside of the hatchery building. Workers harvest the eggs of female salmon and artificially fertilize them with sperm that has been squeezed from male salmon. The others naturally spawn by burying fertilized eggs in the river. Unlike the pandemic, the salmon run in Pulaski is predictable, and whether it’s the scenery or the salmon, the attractions of the river have inspired people to use their extra time to isolate in nature. “I’ve come back to the basics of what made me who I am, and that’s the outdoors.” Root said. “I think others are finding the same peace as me in all this uncertainty.”

Previous page: Jim Root runs line up his fly-fishing rod at the Salmon River in Pulaski, N.Y., before a morning of Chinook and coho salmon fishing. Right: The private waters of the Douglaston Salmon Run are owned by former N.Y. Sen. Douglas Barclay, who implemented COVID protocols that mandate social distancing during fall fishing.

Anglers gather in the public waters of Pulaski’s Salmon River on Sept. 25, 2020. Local fishing reports marked this day as having some of the highest numbers of people fishing and of salmon caught.

A hooked 40-pound Chinook salmon fights against a fisherman who is using 8-pound tested fishing line. Fishermen use thin line with low visibility to get salmon to bite.

Scavengers, gulls fly the Salmon River during salmon runs and peck the eyes out of any spawning salmon that venture too shallow.

Jim Root fights a hooked salmon as it “pulls drag,” a setting on the fishing pole that controls the amount of force it takes to pull line from the reel.

A female salmon lays up to 17,000 eggs when spawning. Experts estimate that only one salmon for every 1,000 eggs lives to adulthood because of predators like steelhead trout.

By Justin R. Pacheco

amed after the intersection of Syracuse’s Hawley Avenue and Green Street, HawleyGreen is a neighborhood that has always taken pride in its community, diversity and character. With newly rehabilitated homes and small businesses popping up, this active — and activist — neighborhood has long been considered one on the upswing. COVID-19 quickly put a halt to much of that momentum, but Hawley-Green has struggled with its rejuvenation since long before the pandemic struck.

Monique makes her way out of HawleyGreen on her way to work via the I-690 underpass, a walk she makes almost every day no matter the weather.

Hyphenation turned off for captions might need extra attention to tracking and kerning

Welcome to the simultaneous rise and decline of Syracuse’s historic neighborhood of Hawley-Green

Left: An abandoned sofa chair sits on the corner of Hawley Avenue and Howard Street, where it will be picked up by the neighborhood’s trash removal service. Center: The sculpture Rising by local artist Dennis Earle is located at Finnegan Park as “an apt representation of the efforts and energies of emergence and transformation that the Hawley-Green neighborhood and the greater Northside neighborhood have experienced and continue to experience,” as described by Earle in a 2011 Syracuse Post-Standard article. Bottom: A local family makes its way past a block of street art that has since been removed on their way to Dominick’s Neighborhood Market, a staple in Hawley-Green. Opposite: A row of colorful homes sits on McBride Street. Known as the “Painted Ladies,” the homes were built in 1879 near a trolley route that serviced what was then Howard Street.

“It really is an interesting neighborhood,” said Andrea Wandersee, executive director of the Northeast Hawley Development Association. “It’s like it’s been trying for so long, and it really has been on the cusp. It’s almost fifty -fifty how parts of this neighborhood have come along, and also maybe not so much.” Tucked away between Lodi Street, Burnet Avenue and James Street, often referred to as the “LBJ” triangle, it’s considered the heart of Syracuse’s northeastern neighborhoods. Many of the historic homes have been restored, dozens of the larger ones have been converted into apartments, and some of the smaller ones have become home to an ever-growing artistic community. Hawley-Green was created in 1884 after the success and expansion of the Erie Canal, and at the time it was home mainly to carpenters, wagon makers, silversmiths, painters and musicians. By the late 19th century, Hawley-Green attracted more upper-class residents who began to replace many of the original structures and homes. Streetcars finally made their way into the neighborhood and helped fuel the upscale transition. Many of the residents were doctors, lawyers, dentists, politicians and clergy.

“It’s amazing seeing how far the neighborhood has come just in my time here,” said Michael DeSalvo, owner of Hairanoia Salon and active member of the Hawley-Green community. “The people really have everything to do with that. The diversity here has always been the neighborhood’s greatest strength.” Before he opened his salon in March of 2000, the location was an adult video store; a place where, according to DeSalvo, people would buy drugs and solicit the services of the prostitutes who worked around the back side of the building. DeSalvo still recalls seeing people who would walk near the intersection that his business now resides on and then turn around because they were scared to go any farther. In 1979, the district was placed on the National Register of Historic Places, which is something that many of the residents here take pride in. “People here care about this neighborhood and want to see it succeed,” said Wandersee. “I feel like you see it in the sense of community here; they came together when the pandemic hit and helped hold one another up, because we want this place to continue to rise, not decline.”

Brandon Johnson and his pit bull, Cooper, ask passersby for money, food or dog treats on the corner of James Street and Burnett Avenue.

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The diversity here has always been the neighborhood’s greatest strength.

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Singer-songwriter Gloria Lepko plays the chords to her single, “Hold On,” on her piano in her Syracuse, N.Y., studio apartment.

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By Jessika Braden

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er heart racing and beads of sweat rolling down her face, she stood on stage in awe at the sight and sound of her fans singing back to her the lyrics of her song, “Shadows.” It was the final night of a battle of the bands, and it was this night that solidified Gloria Lepko’s dream to write music people could relate to, feel and sing. Now a soul pop singer and songwriter in Syracuse, New York, Lepko has reignited the flame of creating music only six years after her Guatemalan alternative rock band, 2 Miles From Shore, broke up when the lead guitarist quit and publicly announced the band was no more. Lepko’s earliest memories of music are of her mother — a music major and her biggest supporter — singing and playing classical music throughout her childhood. “My heart and my soul for music came from my mom, but as a teenager, I got into the church worship band,” she said. “They believed in me and pushed me to sing and perform.”

Lepko listens to the mastered version of her song, “Hold On.” She began writing music as a hobby when she was 7 years old.

Throughout her adolescence, she attended the nondenominational Christian church Cathedral of His Glory in Greensboro, North Carolina, which had built a church in Antigua, Guatemala during its mission to build

churches throughout Central America. It was during a youth trip to help build that church that Gloria, at 17 years old, met the 2 Miles From Shore drummer. After two years, he convinced her to join the band as the lead singer and

Lepko strokes the keys to a grand piano during a studio recording for her song, “Fields of Gold,” with Syracuse University Records, a student-run record label.

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Lepko laughs in excitement at the sound of her music playing through her headphones for the first time since sending it to her out-of-state producer for mastering.

pianist in 2012. Together the band toured Guatemala for two years, but despite its success, the band broke up when the lead guitarist unexpectedly quit, leaving the remaining band members with

no choice but to pick up the pieces and move on. “It was the dream I could almost taste, and it was just ripped away in an instant. I wasn’t ready for it to be over, and he gave me no choice,” Lepko said.

With the band gone, Lepko had no way of making money and decided to sell her piano and return home to the United States, bringing along the former band’s drummer, Adrian, whom she’d married once in the U.S. However, seeking the adventure and adrenaline they felt while performing, they both enlisted in the U.S. Marine Corps. For the first time, Lepko put her musical aspirations on hold to focus on her military career. But the hiatus wouldn’t last long. “I don’t think there was a moment where I decided now is the time for people to hear me,” she said. “But it wasn’t until just this year that I realized, you know, now is as good a time as ever. Why wait any longer when now I have the skills and the tools that I need?” Despite her inability to book live performances due to the COVID-19 pandemic state restrictions in New York where Lepko attends the Military Visual Journalism Program at Syracuse University, she continues to pursue her dream of sharing music with others by writing and composing music as

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Lepko and her classmate Tyler Thompson play covers of popular songs during a jam session at Thompson’s patio in Syracuse.

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Bonnie Kay; a stage name dedicated to her late grandmother, Grandma Kay. “She was not a singer at all, but she was known for singing at the top of her lungs a song called, ‘My Bonnie Lies Over the Ocean,’” she said. “She is my Bonnie, my Bonnie Kay,” In her personal time while at school, she has recorded two original singles with Syracuse University Records. Lepko’s soul pop songs express the feelings she says are difficult to draw out: fear, doubt, loneliness and feeling stuck, which are reflected in the lyrics of songs like “Hold On” and “Ghost.” Though her lyrics describe intimate feelings, the rhythmic riffs are uplifting. Lepko now believes her dream isn’t so far from reach, which has driven her to push herself further and believe in herself knowing she’s held success in the palm of her hands before. Regardless of whether she makes it big or not, Lepko defines success by the quality of work she shares with the world. “I can’t really do without my music,” she said. “So, it’s not about the satisfaction; it’s just about being heard, and I’m never letting anything get in the way.”

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A Drop of Sunshine By Ashley Sokolov

Morning light spills through stall windows, illuminating floating dust particles swirling up from hooves shuffling and lazy tails swishing through the air as pocketsized birds flutter between legs and into the rafters, seeking seeds from the hay loft above. The wooden stables at Sunshine Horses sit among maple trees and a dozen pastures in Clay, New York. “Most of us volunteer here so that we can be close to the horses. A lot of us are animal lovers, but don’t have the space for a horse at home,” said Marisa Jones who discovered the rescue six years ago and has volunteered there ever since. “We help them, and they help us, giving many of us a purpose, and filling us with a sense of duty.” COVID-19 shut down much of New York, endangering the symbiotic relationship between animal and handler. The safety of the volunteers, many of them older, retired and more susceptible

to the illness, was jeopardized. The rescue is operated entirely by volunteers so without them the horses would have no one. Since February, the rescue had to limit the number of volunteers allowed on one shift, and also reduce the number of animal takeins. Before the pandemic, volunteers could come and go to freely to support 34 horses, according to Martie Talley, a morning shift leader for Saturday volunteers. Now, visits are restricted and smaller shifts permit 95 volunteers to maintain the stables and care for the horses, keeping both alive. Twice a day, the volunteers feed and groom the horses. They let them out to pasture and clean their stalls. They consider the different needs for each horse as some rambunctious horses need extra exercising before being put up for the night and are run around an indoor arena. Others are older and need more medical care before bedding down for the night.

An Arabian horse, known as Leggs, stands out in his pasture to graze and exercise.

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Mardie Southlick feeds her favorite horse, Clos, whose easygoing personality has led to him being a favorite among the volunteers.

Debbie Pelow, a volunteer, cleans out a horse’s stall, removing waste and old hay into a wheelbarrow to be taken out to a discard bin. This keeps the stalls livable for the rescues.

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Sunshine Horses adopted cats Daisy (above) and her brother Teddy to patrol the stables and control the rodents attempting to take up residence within the stalls.

No matter what, the volunteers make sure it is all taken care of. “Some of these horses are retired racehorses that were up on a block,” said Talley. “Others, their owners couldn’t take care of, or their needs weren’t being met, so they were brought here.” Twenty-one horses currently live at the rescue facility, each with unique needs and diets. A day without volunteers could lead to calamity for some of the horses, according to Alison Gould, member of the Equine Care Committee that over sees the horses’ health. She said Tito, a male horse once used for field work, was brought to the rescue with “shoe boils,” soft, squishy, swelling bubbles on his legs. The sores have to be cleaned and cared for twice a day or else risk infection, possibly endangering his life. Volunteers have managed the nonprofit rescue since it was founded in 2003. Donations, fundraisers or guests have kept the horses fed and medical bills paid. “Normal fundraisers have not been held over the summer,” said Dianne Sestak, Sunshine Horses’ social media manager, who sponsors two horses that are a bonded pair. “Without donations and fundraisers, the rescue can’t operate. But, with the help of the volunteers taking the horse’s needs into their hands, we’ve been able to stay afloat.” Many of the volunteers sponsor their favorite horses, providing them with food or medical care. Sponsoring

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can cost from $50-$300 a month and covers various things including feed, bedding, stable maintenance and veterinarian visits. When COVID-19 restrictions eased in October, Sunshine Horses was able to hold its first fundraiser since February. “Paint with a Paint” was an event similar to a “wine and paint” night, but with an Arabian Paint horse and less wine. It drew 50 guests and raised $2,000 for the horses. “To keep the horses taken care of, it costs between $2,400 to $3,000 per horse a year. This depends on if they are on any supplements, medications or vet bills. Sometimes we get donations of hay and feed, but when we don’t, we have to pay for it,” said Sesak. “This also doesn’t cover the overhead of power, mortgage, insurance and taxes.” All maintenance to the stables and land is done completely by the volunteers, and from fixing fences to rewiring electricity, the skills of every person is used. The hands of these people also shovel wet sawdust and feces with pitchforks into beaten wheelbarrows, haul hay bales down a wooden ladder to be scattered for feedings, and brush caked-in mud from coats and manes day in and day out. The smell of horses lingers on clothes and in noses as the volunteers head home from their shift. This dutiful time and effort directly affects the wellbeing of the horses. While an uneven trade, it is willingly given.

Katey Rodgers brushes the mane of Patrick, removing tangles, burs and mud.

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By Angel Ruszkiewicz

Despite potential risk, volunteers commit to performing taxing and tedious tasks to improve the lives of others

he once-bustling dining hall of St. John the Evangelist Church sits silent. The chairs that used to seat 180 people during breakfast and lunch at the Samaritan Center are now used to form a one-way path to the serving line where patrons are handed a polystyrene foam take-out container and asked to leave. The Samaritan Center, a nonprofit organization opened in 1981 that feeds foodinsecure individuals in Syracuse, New York, has been distributing to-go meals since early March. The center serves about 300 meals a day, seven days a week, a feat only possible with the help of volunteers who arrive several hours before serving time to prepare and distribute meals and collect donations from local businesses. “When I retired around four and a half years ago,” began Jay Mason, a regular volunteer at the center, “I needed something to give me a little purpose. ‘Why am I getting up? What am I accomplishing?’”

Steven Halsey, who has been volunteering at the Samaritan Center for five years, scrambles eggs to serve for breakfast.

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“I think that animals in our country are not protected the way they should be, and this lets me have my little piece in making the animal world a little better.”

Shelly Espicopo comforts a recently rescued 8-week-old kitten. Espicoco socializes cats at HumaneCNY to familiarize them with being held to increase the likelihood of being adopted.

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HumaneCNY was a popular drop-in destination for animal lovers driving down Taft Road in Liverpool, where fundraising events and meet and greets with adoptable animals were common until March. Since then, the doors have been closed to spontaneous visits. Potential adopters now have to make appointments before coming to the shelter to limit the number of people inside the building. But the intake of surrendered and rescued animals has not stopped, nor has the need for volunteers. The two sets of industrial-size washers and dryers are constantly running as beds, blankets, and toys are washed multiple times a week. Every day the cat litter pans and dog kennels are cleaned and the halls of the shelter are mopped. Each dog is walked and each cat is played with multiple times a day. This is possible in large part due to the hard-working volunteers who dedicate several hours of their day to complete these repetitive tasks. “I think that animals in our country are not protected the way they should be, and this lets me have my little piece in making the animal world a little better,” said Shelly Espicopo, who has volunteered at the shelter for over a year. “If you can’t volunteer going and getting oil off of animals after oil spills, you volunteer at Humane.”

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Below: Athena looks out of the window of her kennel at the shelter. She was later adopted. Bottom: Espicoco sorts through blankets, towels and sheets donated by community members to help stock the shelter.

Top: Mary Frances Sabin has volunteered to work at polling sites for the past four years. She was inspired by her mother who was an avid volunteer. Above: Stickers are handed to people after they complete their ballots for the 2020 general election, the first presidential election in which New Yorkers could vote in person before Election Day.

Strips of tape marked six-foot intervals up and down the hall of the Armond Magnarelli Community Center in Syracuse during the 2020 general election. In previous years, voting at the center had been a get-together of sorts, complete with homemade baked goods and freshly brewed coffee. Neighbors and longtime friends would catch up with one another as they waited their turn. But during this election, voters had to maintain social distancing as they waited in line. Polling site volunteers dedicated entire shifts to circling the gymnasium, wiping down chairs and cubicles after voters finished with their ballots. Volunteers tend to be older in age, many deciding to begin volunteering after they retire. According to Pew Research Center, 58% of people who volunteered to work polling sites in 2018 were above the age of 61. In the face of the

coronavirus pandemic, which is more likely to severely affect older people, a plea for volunteers was sent out specifically to young adults. Many individuals rose to the occasion. “I kept seeing advertisements saying, ‘We need more poll workers,’ and this was in August,” said Maria Zapf, who volunteered for the first time this fall. She’d considered volunteering in the past but didn’t commit until noticing the Board of Elections was still looking for volunteers as the election quickly approached. The reason why they chose to offer their time and assistance varied from volunteer to volunteer. Some cited the desire to give back to their community, others wanted to fulfill their civic duty, but all felt the need to help during this uncertain time. “Instead of being worried,” Zapf said, “I could do something.”

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Memento

MORI Remember Death

When loved ones die during a pandemic, families honor the lives of the departed while preserving their own BY SHANNON SMITH

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More than 100 mourners, a violation of state COVID-19 restrictions for funerals, gathered for Misagaro Appolinaire’s burial.

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Even the ritual of death was tainted by COVID-19. For some people, COVID-19 changed the way they lived but also how they died. For those left behind, the global pandemic changed how they were able to honor their loved ones, and it transformed the shape of their loss. Walt Stein, development director and educator at grief services center HOPE for Bereaved, knows the stages of grief. He’d previously lost both his father and his significant other, and he counsels people daily on loss. But he didn’t expect his anger to be so acute when he was kept from seeing his 98-year old mother when she died of natural causes on June 6. The nursing home staff told him that a total of three guests were each allowed to visit her only once during her final days. He’d visited her daily for 19 years, coaxing her through the confusion and hallucinations of dementia, but he was turned away because he’d already used his time — there was no one else to come. “After taking care of my mom for all those years. I never thought she’d die alone,” Stein said. “There’s something special when you’re with that person and they’re dying; there’s

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a closure comes with that. And when you don’t have that opportunity … You feel like you’ve been cheated.” Stein was one of many people affected by New York state’s safety guidelines, which restricted access to nursing homes, hospitals, funeral homes and churches. Those precautions also censured some behavior associated with consolation and comfort. Tricia Karn asked her mother not to hug anyone at her father’s funeral, but, of course, she did. David Karn was a U.S. Navy Korean War veteran living at a senior care facility with Parkinson’s disease. Before COVID-19, his daughter Tricia visited him every night. She would clean his fingernails and make sure he’d gotten to finish his dinner. When New York suspended family visitation for facilities like his, she spiraled with the same thoughts every day. “I woke up every morning with that feeling like, What can I do today to see him?” Karn said. For six months, she watched him diminish over monthly FaceTime calls. When he’d

Above: Dol Oth’s favorite dog was very protective of his body, barking at anyone who came near during his funeral on Oct. 2, 2020. Left: Flowers sit on a table at fifthgeneration family business Farone and Son Funeral Home. The Farones had to turn people away from some services to comply with state COVID-19 restrictions. Opposite: Walt Stein, development director and educator at HOPE for Bereaved, holds a portrait of his late mother while surrounded by photos of others’ lost loved ones at the grief services center.

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Right: Chak Srown (left) records video while his family releases doves for his father’s Buddhist burial. The simultaneous release of the birds symbolizes the separation of any sins or burdens from Oth. Below: Arrows mark the flow of traffic for the funeral service and mass of Appolinaire at Our Lady of Pompei/ St. Peter’s. Churches had to limit attendance and record visitor names for potential contact tracing.

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see his daughter on the screen, he’d ask her what he’d done wrong, and why she wasn’t there. She would try to tell him about COVID-19. “Everyone was just super sad we couldn’t do things as a family,” Karn said, who still wonders if she could have had more time, if things could have been different, if his isolation contributed to his decline. Sarah Uon’s nail salon in Virginia had closed because of COVID-19, so she packed up her family and moved back to her childhood home of Syracuse to provide 24-hour care for her father, Dol Oth, who had been diagnosed with stage 4 lung cancer. She still wakes up every day at 6 a.m. and goes to his room, hoping to see him there. “There’s no good time to die, but passing away during COVID is just not good at all,” Uon said. After Oth was admitted to the hospital, she took turns with her siblings because only one person was allowed to visit per day. This meant that her 8-year-old daughter couldn’t see him before he died; the open casket was her goodbye. Bonnie Tucci, a counselor and educator at Hope for Bereaved, said one unexpected advantage for those who have lost someone during COVID is that they recognize they’ve lost someone and something. She said many people are grieving right now and don’t realize it; they are grieving lost jobs, lost security, lost human connection, the loss of a lifestyle and control. “[Grief] changes us,” said Tucci. “This whole pandemic has changed every single one of us.” Karn said that grieving during COVID-19 changed her and increased her empathy for other people and their hidden hardships. “We don’t know how [others] are processing or what happened to them during this,” she said. “I just internally have to be as grateful as I can so that I don’t fall into self-pity or think that this is just happening to me. It’s happening to everyone.”

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CONTRIBUTORS Danielle Baker

Tristan Biese

Alora Blosch

Jessika Braden

Sam Brooks

U.S. Navy

U.S. Air Force

U.S. Navy

U.S. Marine Corps

U.S. Army

Mike Merrill

Jeanette Mullinax

Justin R. Pacheco

Angel Ruszkiewicz

Rito Smith

U.S. Army

U.S. Navy

U.S. Army

STAFF 126

U.S. Air Force

Advisors

Nancy Austin Rafael Concepcion Renée Stevens Bruce Strong Claudia Strong Amy Toensing

Each story contains the service member’s photography, writing and layout design.

T. Logan Keown

Allison Lotz

U.S. Army

U.S. Navy

U.S. Marine Corps

Shannon Smith

Ashley Sokolov

J.D. Strong II

Kelly Timney

Timothy A. Turner

U.S. Navy

U.S. Air Force

U.S. Marine Corps

River Bruce

Neysa Canfield

U.S. Air Force

Production Team Shannon Smith River Bruce Jessika Braden Danielle Baker Angel Ruszkiewicz

Natasha Mackenzie U.S. Army

Contributor Portraits Ashley Sokolov Jeanette Mullinax T. Logan Keown

Table of Contents Jessika Braden

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in memory of

SHERRI TAYLOR Aug. 5, 1950 – Oct. 19, 2020 The Newhouse School will long remember graphic design professor Sherri Taylor for her dedication and commitment to the next generation, inspiring not only military and civilian students at Syracuse University but also high school journalists at summer workshops and as the director of New York’s Empire State School Press Association. During her 30 years at Newhouse, Prof. Taylor built a reputation as funny, tough and kind. She devoted her life to the growth and edification of others, and the members of this program cherished her meticulous attention to detail, her insight, her grace and her talent. They will remember her as a devoted champion who pulled no punches, someone who tirelessly and selflessly ensured the recognition of their academic efforts in the production of this annual magazine. Those left behind to grieve her passing can rest easy knowing that her legacy will endure through her students. She demanded that individuals fulfill their full potential, that they design with intention and motivation, and that they be exacting in the execution of tasks. Her students knew they only had to live up to the pride she already had in them, and that she would guide them along the way. Generations of military photojournalism students are grateful for the opportunity to have known her and learned from her. May she rest in peace.

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Photo by Gregory Heisler

This project represents the combined efforts of the Department of Defense Visual Information specialists training at Syracuse University in Syracuse, New York. The skills and training these students received will soon be applied in support of DoD missions around the world. Since 1963, this magazine has been produced every year by the active-duty Soldiers, Marines, Sailors and Airmen who report to the Military Photojournalism Program. In the spring of 2020, the name of the magazine changed to SALT, an homage to the “Salt City” region reflected in its pages. Journalism, like salt, preserves and enhances our shared human experience by telling essential stories.

MILITARY PHOTOJOURNALISM COURSE

S.I. NEWHOUSE SCHOOL OF PUBLIC COMMUNICATIONS