Photos and words and by Sean Rayford

Leigh Wesolowski was in Amsterdam on Spring Break when the president suspended air travel to the United States. “When Trump made the announcement I was still asleep,” says the University of South Carolina senior on Monday evening — on her first day free from a two week quarantine. Awoken on the 13th by a friend in Amsterdam who told her, “My grandma has called like six times and said that Trump has banned all travel from Europe,” she knew getting back home wasn’t going to be easy or simple.

Before returning to Columbia, one of her sorority sisters uninvited her to their 21st birthday party — because she would be coming from Europe amid the pandemic.

“I was like what? Are you serious?” says the Delta Zeta double major in finance and marketing, who then gave her friend hell because she was coming back from Ft. Lauderdale. Instead of a party, Leigh FaceTimed with her friend and toasted her with a shot of Baileys. “I feel bad that she hasn't been able to go do anything, but I try to remind her of the positives. Like, you can still go to Trader Joes and get a $6 bottle of wine.”

Leigh returned to the US on March 15, two days after the original suspension date for foreign travel. She had heard the horror stories of those returning earlier in the weekend, but was processed within a half hour. She credits the her late return for the less than nightmarish scenario, but says that six feet of social distancing was not observed. Leigh describes three verbal and written inquires, all with the same three questions regarding: contact with anyone infected with COVID-19, possible symptoms, and travel to specific countries like Iran and mainland China. Her temperature was taken.

The UofSC senior is not sure if she’ll attend her new graduation ceremony in August and hasn’t bought a cap and gown. It’s a 12 hour drive from Chicago where her family lives and Leigh wonders if they are going to want to fly. It also depends on whether she can find employment. “I’m still looking for a job, so that's about to get a lot harder.”

Omme-Salma Rahemtullah, Assistant Director of programming at the Nickelodeon Theatre, changed the marquee for the first time on Saturday evening. Before COVID-19 cancelled everything, that was someone else’s task. Omme’s normal task, is selecting films at the Nick. “We have around ten part-time front of house staff that unfortunately had to be furloughed, because our income is generated through ticket sales. So, if we don't have ticket sales, unfortunately we're not able to support the part-time staff. We have seven full time staff that are still employed and working from home. I'm one of them.”

Facing the closures of theaters everywhere, smaller/niche film distributors have responded quickly to the challenges. “They worked really fast to create what they call virtual screening rooms, which means that films that are not already in [video on demand] platforms are being shown exclusively in those screening rooms — and they are working with us. It's really kind of showing the solidarity and the ecosystem of the indie film world. We are selling the tickets to our membership and even though they're doing all the infrastructure, we get to keep 50% of the ticket sales.

“It just started on Friday - which is yesterday - right? It's hard top keep track,” she says, “I don't know if that is translating into ticket sales. We will see in a week.”

Saturday night should have been the closing night party of the Indie Grits Film Festival, with Chaz from Toro y Moi, performing a DJ set at the Columbia Museum of Art. Like everything else it’s been cancelled. “Meeting filmakers is always one of the most exciting parts of the festival,” says Omme, “You get to meet filmakers from all over the region and connect with them. And build relationships with them and to see them come back every year. But we're still doing it, just online.”

The Nickelodeon Theatre is celebrating 40 years in Columbia, SC.

www.nickelodeon.org

Becca Smith and Coty Hoover took on full time work as musicians last May, performing nearly 200 gigs during the time since. Together, as Admiral Radio, music is their sole source of income. “We were just about to announce our debut album release, which was gonna be in early May and that's all kinda shot to hell. We just don't really know,” says Becca, from her front yard in the Rosewood neighborhood in Columbia, SC. “In order to make that kind of stuff work, record an album — to share original music, we rely on gigs. We play cover gigs, weddings and stuff like that.”

The newlyweds barely escaped the cancellation of their own ceremony. ”We got our wedding in, and the week after our wedding we played someone else's wedding — and then all of a sudden," says Coty.

"It came to a grinding halt after that,” Becca continues.

There were two waves of cancellations for the folk duo. The first to go were for the gigs performing original music. The second wave eliminated the bread and butter jobs, with six cancellations in one day — one Saturday with two weddings canceled. “The weddings are huge for us, because that gives us a good little chunk of money,” says Becca, “And then when the whole restaurant thing happened, we're like OK, we're out for the foreseeable future.”

Admiral Radio aired their first live Sunday, March 22, with plans to continue each week. Listeners can tip - and communicate with the musicians in real time. “It was really surprisingly fun,” says Becca. “It was a big financial help too because we were able to take some of those funds and pay our sound engineer.”

As new and independent full time musicians, the couple is versed on a tight budget. And while they recognize this as an advantage during a time like this, they’re fully aware that there isn’t much fat to trim.

Both Coty and Becca were language majors and have been looking for side opportunities in tutoring or translating.

AdmiralRadioMusic.com

Jodi Sanzo Waits looks after more than 180 feral cats in Lexington County. But after her bulk supplier of cat food cancelled pickups amid the CoronaVirus pandemic, her stock is running out. The former veterinarian technician at UofSC tells me she went through 8.2 metric tons of cat food on the feral communities last year.

“Even cheap garbage food is like $18 for a 40 lb. bag. And 40 lbs. doesn't feed a lot of cats,” says Jodi on Tuesday, March 25 outside her home in Lexington County. Retail cat food is 500% more expensive than what she was getting in bulk.

Jodi operates Purry Paws Rescue, Inc. a trap, neuter, return non-profit where she shares her home with more than a dozen cats at the moment. “I’m down to 17. Which still sounds like a lot but in July of last year I had 125. Babies, playpens full of kittens,” she says, “Somebody calls and says, ‘Hey we've got a new colony,’ and you go out there to trap and there is 8 litters of kittens. That's when I scoop them up and bring them home and start medically treating them.”

“I take them in, I get them completely vetted, spayed, neutered, combo tested and I find them homes. We do applications. We call vet references,” she says, “A lot of people think that you stand out on the corner and hand out kittens. I don't do that.”

Inside her home, she has one room for kittens, one room for new animals in a two week quarantine, and another room for the remaining cats. With public adoption events canceled and awaiting knee surgery next month, Sanzo Waits doesn’t want to risk getting sick by having other humans in her home to see the cats. “How do you adopt a cat without coming into contact with somebody? It's tough.”

Jodi says she’s been able raise funds via Facebook, bringing in 12 cases of Friskies, four 40 lb bags of food and $530, but she is still worried about having enough. You can find more information at www.purrypawsrescue.org

A few weeks ago Richard Strater was teaching English in Zimapan, Hidalgo. Located on a branch of the Sierra Madre Oriental, north of Mexico City, it’s where his young students exchanged pen pal letters with an elementary school in Spartanburg, SC. “On Sunday the 15th of March at 11pm I get a message in our Peace Corps Mexico group chat with a link to the Peace Corps website.” It was an official notice evacuating all Peace Corps countries in the world.

“I didn't sleep much that night and the next day I had to pack up all my belongings and I gave away a lot of stuff. And that Tuesday I took a bus out of my little rancho, my pueblito in Mexico, and I went to the next biggest city where the airport was.” Richard, a graduate of Camden High School, then flew to Houston, to D.C., and then finally back to Columbia, where he studied anthropology at the University of South Carolina.

“There were very long lines at customs/immigration in Houston — so there was no six feet. There were no thermal scanners to see if anyone had a fever, which is something they've been doing in Mexico for weeks. I'm surprised to see that the Mexican government in some cases, has it better under control than customs and immigration in the U.S. It was shocking to see.”

After returning to the U.S. Richard has been self quarantining, sleeping on an inflatable mattress in a spare room at a friend’s home. Unable to stay with his parents, both over the age of 60, Richard looks forward to reconnecting with them next week.

In the mean time, Richard will continue looking for a new job.

During the first week of March, Tito’s Vodka took to Twitter warning folks that their product did not meet CDC standards for use as hand sanitizer. It wasn’t potent enough. As a joke, John and Venetia Sharpe at Southern Essence Distillery in Cayce produced a 123 proof vodka, put it in a plastic bottle sprayer with a label, and used it to wipe down the bar in their tasting room that weekend. As I make my way out of the building on Tuesday, John begins spraying most of surfaces I’ve come near during my visit. He laughs about his precautions.

On March 19th the distillery was closed to the public and the couple converted operations to produce hand sanitizer. "This isn't like what you would buy at your grocery store. It's stronger as far as the alcohol goes,” says John on Tuesday at the distillery on Frink St.

After donating the initial batch to the Cayce Police the phone calls came, some from as far away as Florida. But focusing efforts with local organizations in West Columbia, Pine Ridge, Springdale, Richland County and Lexington County, they can’t help everyone. During the first week the couple produced and donated more than 70 gallons of hand sanitizer. John values each gallon of the high potency product at more than $250. “We’ve told folks that if they want us to continue after next week they need to start bringing us sugar and bottles. Labor is free, we will pay the electrical bill, and water bill.”

As the calls continue to come in, Venetia says she’s “flabbergasted,” as she learns about the shortage of hand sanitizer. “The crazy thing is, there are some folks that you would have thought would be stocked,” says John who has agreed not to identify organizations in need, “I'm shocked with who is calling.” As a parting message, John communicates, “What could help us when this is over would be for the State House to pass Bill S-993. It would allow us to sell at festivals.”

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