Pandemic Sundays
/By Angie Chatman, produced by Out There Podcast
Released on February 17, 2022
Welcome to Out There Podcast. Our stories are written for the ear, so for those able, we recommend listening while reading along. Transcripts may contain minor errors; please check the audio before quoting.
(Sound of a gentle breeze and slight rustling)
WILLOW BELDEN: It is so beautiful here.
WILLOW: This is a recording I made last month, when I was on vacation in Colorado.
WILLOW: I haven’t seen anyone else out on the trail today. It’s so quiet.
WILLOW: I was cross-country skiing, looking out over some of the highest mountains in the lower 48.
WILLOW: I know just to the south of here are Mount Massive and Mount Elbert, but I don’t know what these other peaks are.
WILLOW: I like knowing what I’m looking at. I think it goes along with my profound love for maps. And this is where an app called PeakVisor comes in handy.
PeakVisor is one of our sponsors for this season.
When you open up their app, it figures out where you are, and then it tells you all the mountains you’re looking at.
They also have intricate 3-D maps to help you plan out your adventures. And for the winter, they offer all sorts of info about every major ski resort in the U.S.
Check out Peak Visor in the app store. You just might love it.
(Out There theme music begins)
Hi, I’m Willow Belden, and you’re listening to Out There, the podcast that explores big questions through intimate stories outdoors.
This season, we’re exploring the theme “Things I Thought I Knew.” Each episode we’re sharing a story about an outdoor experience that changed someone’s understanding.
But before we get to that, I have a quick announcement.
Out There is going to be seven years old this spring. And to celebrate, we’re hosting a virtual happy hour for all of our patrons.
Patrons are listeners who support Out There financially. They make monthly contributions to the podcast through a crowd-funding platform called Patreon. It’s that support that makes this podcast possible.
So, to thank all of you, our patrons, let’s hang out over a beverage!
Happy hour will be March 9 at 5 p.m. Pacific Time / 8 p.m. Eastern.
If you’re already a patron, there’s nothing more you need to do. Just keep an eye on your inbox for an invitation.
If you’re not yet a patron, you can become one very easily. Just go to patreon.com/outtherepodcast. As I mentioned, Patreon is a crowd-funding platform for creative endeavors. It lets you make monthly contributions to projects you care about. Like this podcast. You pick the amount you want to give, and they take care of the rest.
Again, just go to patreon.com/outtherepodcast to sign up. I have a link in the episode description as well.
Make sure you sign up by March 4 so I can send you an invitation to the happy hour!
Also, this season we’re bringing you a special little treat at the end of each episode. It’s called Out There Favorites, and each episode, one of our team members is sharing recommendations for books, podcasts, gear, and other resources.
These are not ads; they’re just a chance for us to spread the love and tell you about things we think you might like. So, stick around after today’s story to hear this week’s recommendations.
(Out There theme music ends)
We all have our own ways of finding peace. Of grounding ourselves.
For today’s storyteller, church was her sanctuary, both literally and figuratively. So when the pandemic began, and she couldn’t go to church in person, there was a big void in her life.
On today’s episode, Angie Chatman shares the story of how she discovered a new way to find inner peace and a sense of community in a pretty unexpected way. I’ll let Angie take it from here.
(organ music begins to play)
ANGIE CHATMAN: I speak church — Protestant and Catholic. I can still recite the Nicene Creed and the Profession of Faith in their entirety, because of years of Catholic school.
As a child, I went to my grandmother’s AME Church sometimes, and as an adult I joined my mother at her UCC church. There I listened to the Pastor’s Word instead of a homily, and I sang along with the choir, the organist, the drummer and a variety of horn players to gospel standards such as “Blessed Assurance,” “At the Cross,” and “Precious Lord.”
(music fades out)
After I got married and had children, our family moved from state to state for my husband’s career. And church became a valuable resource, as well as a place to worship.
If I needed a recommendation for a local hairdresser or cleaners, all I had to do was check out the church’s bulletin board in the fellowship hall. Where could I find decent childcare? Someone at church would know. In fact, the best option might be in the daycare in the church’s basement.
(soft music begins)
Church is more than good music and a space for meditation and reflection. Church is the place for me to find believers in the universal principles of morality: decency and humility. At church is where I have found peace and comfort from being with like-minded people. People who can provide shelter in this global storm of confusion and hate.
(music fades out)
Unfortunately, the Covid pandemic has made gathering in a church sanctuary challenging. I work as a freelance writer from my home office, and both my husband and I are in the over-55-plus risk category. At the height of the first wave of the virus, I didn’t even go out for groceries; my daughter did that for us.
My friend, Tonya, who lives in Connecticut, started an online exercise group. I joined and worked out 30 minutes a day, four days a week. We did cardio and stretches, and lifted small weights. So, I was physically okay, but emotionally I was a wreck, because I missed the sense of community that comes from church.
I missed listening to stories about folks who have been through stuff, suffered, and still come out on the other side. And I missed the ritual of peaceful contemplation that going to church offers.
That is, until my friend, Julie, asked me to walk with her one Sunday morning.
(relaxed music begins)
She’d been following the reports from the CDC and the NIH. “As long as we’re masked,” she said, “And stay six feet apart, we’ll be fine.”
“Outdoors?” I asked.
“Of course, outdoors,” she laughed. “What’s wrong with outdoors?”
All I knew then is that being outdoors was no longer a part of my identity. I had played outside with the kids on my block when I was growing up on the south side of Chicago. In middle and high school, I played in Lincoln Park on the school’s field hockey teams.
However, as an adult living in majority white suburbs, I would often watch my children’s soccer games from the car, to avoid hearing the perspectives of the privileged. I enjoyed downhill skiing, but could no longer stand the cold. And I liked outdoor yoga, but I didn’t like the bugs.
(music fades out)
Eventually, I came to the conclusion that my sense of unease is because I am a Black woman, and the outdoors isn’t safe for Black people.
At the time, I was unable to articulate this in a logical way to Julie. Julie is a doctor. She has a deep and abiding respect for logic. So instead I gave in, got up early on a Sunday morning, and met Julie in Cambridge to go for a walk — outside.
(breeze blowing and birds singing faintly in the background)
It was a beautiful morning in early autumn. Leaves on the trees had begun to turn from green to gold and orange and red.
Our route was along the Charles River, where crew teams were practicing, and vendors were setting up booths for the upcoming Head of the Charles Regatta boat races. It was a gorgeous day, and we walked two miles.
(breeze and birdsong fade out)
I really enjoyed people watching, petting the dogs, cooing at the babies in their strollers. Yet, I was relieved when it was over.
(cheery music begins)
The best way to know a city is to walk it. Over the next series of Sundays Julie planned walks around Beacon Hill, past the bar shown in the sit-com Cheers. In the North End, we walked past the Paul Revere statue, and then had a cappuccino and biscotti at an outdoor cafe on Hanover Street. We watched the planes take off from Logan airport from a marsh preserve in Revere.
Our walks became a series of adventures, each increasing my comfort level with the outdoors…until our visit to the Seaport district.
(music fades out)
WILLOW: Hey, it’s Willow. We’ll hear the rest of the story in a moment. But first…
I’d like to tell you about our sponsor, Powder7.
Powder7 is a full-service ski shop and online retailer based in Golden, Colorado. They have a classic ski shop vibe with the convenience, fast shipping, and great prices of a leading online retailer.
Powder7 only sells ski gear, and they do it year-round. The folks who work there are avid skiers, and they really know their stuff.
Powder7 carries one of the ski industry’s widest selections of gear. From carving skis like the Head Supershapes, to all-mountain and freeride skis like the Head Kores, they offer new and used skis from more than 30 brands.
Shop online at Powder7.com, or feel free to call or email them and chat with their team of experts. Again that website is powder, the number seven, dot com.
And now, back to the story.
(modish music begins)
ANGIE:The Seaport used to be a series of wharfs, with a couple of seafood restaurants dotted among them. Now, it’s the headquarters of Vertex Pharmaceuticals. Boston’s World Trade Convention Center is also there. And both have attracted a wide variety of restaurants, hotels, and high-priced condos. And all of these have brought lots and lots of white people to the area.
(music fades out)
Boston is still a segregated city. In 2017, the Spotlight team of the Boston Globe, the same group that reported on years of clergy sex abuse in the Catholic Church, reported on the racial disparities in the city. The most striking of these is that on average, the wealth of white households in Boston is over $250,000; the average wealth of Black households: eight dollars. Eight. This difference is directly connected to housing segregation.
(quiet music begins)
Julie and I start early on our walks, before many people are up and about. Still, in the neighborhoods we’d walked prior to the Seaport, there were indications of diversity along the route — a bodega, a nail salon, a barbershop with pictures of fade cuts in the window, a Dunkin’ Donuts. In the Seaport, I saw none of these.
But during our walk that day, something happened that changed the way I saw our outings. And it changed the way I go about meeting my emotional needs.
(music fades out)
It started when we happened upon what appeared to be the hull of an old ship.
(sound of gulls and cars driving by)
It was in an area behind chain link fencing, and clearly posted signs that said NO TRESSPASSING.
Julie suggested we get a closer look. On our previous walks, I’d followed Julie without hesitation. But this time, I faltered.
“What’s the matter?” she asked.
“We’d be trespassing,” I said.
She stopped and said, “So?”
“I could get arrested,” I said.
“You mean ‘we’ could be arrested,” she said.
“Girlfriend, please,” I said. “They wouldn’t dare arrest you. You’re white, and this is a white neighborhood.”
Julie looked at me as if I had lost my mind. “Do you really believe that?” she asked.
(somber music begins)
Of course I believe that. I’m not free to roam outdoors. As an African American woman, in an all-white, upscale neighborhood, I am conspicuous. At any time, day or night, I could be stopped by the police. And depending on what they’d had for breakfast that morning, the conversation could quickly escalate into a series of dangerous outcomes…dangerous, for me.
The risk of this happening is particularly high in an all-white neighborhood. In those areas, I am especially afraid of being outdoors. And I explained this to Julie.
“I get it,” she said. “It’s like when I’d have to walk home alone in the middle of the night. Nothing ever happened, but it could have.”
That’s true, I thought. As a white female, Julie is at risk too, but the level of risk is lower, and different. If anything ever happened to Julie, there would have be an immediate media response filled with empathetic outrage; her incident, whatever it was, would likely have gone viral. If something happened to me, my role in the encounter would be scrutinized, IF it was reported at all.
(music ends, and sound of waves, traffic, and gulls returns)
“Listen,” she continued. “I promise I won’t let them hurt you.” Julie has financial means, and knows nearly everyone in Boston.
“Pinky swear?” I asked.
“Pinky swear,” Julie said.
(sound of footsteps on a trail)
So, we slipped through a space in the chain link fence, picked our way on the soggy, narrow trail, and leaped — yes, two middle-aged ladies leaped — across a gap where the water had broken through. Up close we saw it wasn’t the hull of a ship, but an enormous, rusted piece of equipment.
(seaport sounds fade out)
While we were out there, I didn’t stop worrying. But it turned out ok. We returned to our cars without getting into any trouble — both of us. I hugged Julie goodbye. I hugged her because I was relieved. And I hugged her because she had acknowledged my lived experience.
(quiet piano music begins)
We’d been friends before this, but now I felt a deep — I’d call it a spiritual — connection. She saw me. She saw me, and she understood.
This was a profound moment for me. The experience at the Seaport did a lot more than deepening my friendship with Julie; it helped me fill a void.
Since the pandemic started, I had been missing spiritual connection with other people. I used to think that the only place to find those things was at church. But now, I realized that there are many ways to commune with others.
For now, Julie was my community. And the streets of Boston were our church.
(music fades out)
I still hesitate to venture outdoors, especially alone. It’s not safe. Given what happened to Brionna Taylor and numerous others, it’s not safe for me in my house, either. Black lives matter, only in tightly constrained, white approved, spaces. For Black people there is always, always, the risk of hurt, harm, or danger, whether inside or out.
However, there is also joy outdoors — profound joy. And I had been missing out on that outdoor joy. I’ve decided I’m not doing that anymore.
It was after that jaunt through the Seaport when I began to take the lead in planning our Sunday walks. Not because I felt safe, but because I was no longer going to waste my time and energy worrying about being safe. Or as the church folks say, I’ve decided to “Let go and Let God.”
(jubilant music begins)
I don’t think it’s a coincidence that on our walks, I recommend routes which end near a bakery. There, Julie and I buy a form of bread and a beverage. Sometimes it’s a bottle of grape juice. It’s like communion, without communion.
(music continues as waves crash and birds begin to sing )
We sit, cool down, eat, drink, and listen to birdsong, and the ocean’s waves. And we revel in the blessings of another day on earth, alive, in decent health, and in our right minds.
I also feel an immense sense of peace, the kind that passes all understanding.
Can I get an “Amen?”
Amen.
(music continues)
WILLOW: That was Angie Chatman. She’s a writer and storyteller based in Boston. She’s been on The Moth Radio Hour, and she’s won an award for a story she did on World Channel’s “Stories from the Stage.” I have links to those in the show notes, and you can find more of Angie’s work at angiecwriter.com.
(music fades out and soft music begins)
It’s time now for Out There Favorites. This is a new segment we’re bringing you this season, where we share some of our favorite resources. Favorite apps, favorite books, favorite podcasts, gear…
These are not ads — we’re not getting any money from the things we recommend. It’s just a chance for us to spread the love.
CARA SCHAEFER: My name is Cara Schaefer. And I’m the print content coordinator at Out There Podcast.
So with it being winter, and way too cold for me to be outside as much as I’d like to be, I’ve been doing a lot more reading, and listening, to things lately. And here are a few of my favorites.
So, one book I’ve enjoyed recently is All We Can Save: Truth, Courage, and Solutions for the Climate Crisis. And the title might seem a little bit intimidating, but it’s really worth the read. The book is a collection of essays by women living through, and finding ways to navigate the climate crisis, and all the complex emotions, and other kind of interweaving issues that go along with that. And reading it just might leave you feeling a bit more hopeful about our planet’s future.
Another thing I’d highly recommend is the podcast Ologies. Host Alie Ward is the best sort of nerd. I would love to be her best friend. Like if anyone knows her, please introduce me. And who wouldn’t want to hear about everything from like crow funerals, to space archaeology, to apple cider. You’ll feel both smarter, and highly entertained, in no time.
And a last thing I’ve been loving lately is the soundtrack of the movie Encanto. Your roommate will ask you what you’re humming. A random guy at the laundromat will compliment your singing voice, and ask why you’re not wearing socks. It’s a long story — they were in the laundry okay. The songs…basically the songs will get stuck in your head, and live there rent-free forever.
So, yeah, hope you enjoy, and have a good winter.
WILLOW: Again, that was Cara Schaefer. She is the print content coordinator for Out There.
And speaking of print content, Cara does a series for our blog called the Tuesday Spotlight, where she interviews people who are engaging with the outdoors in thought-provoking ways. For example, in the last Tuesday Spotlight, she spoke with a woman who is an avid birder and also a wheelchair user. They talked about accessible outdoor recreation, funny bird encounters, and discovering that you are a bird nerd.
You can read that interview, and all the other Tuesday Spotlight profiles, on our blog at outtherepodcast.com.
I have a link to that in the show notes as well. And I also have links to the things Cara recommended for the Out There Favorites.
(music fades out)
Coming up next time on Out There…
National parks are often referred to as America’s best idea. And there’s a lot to love about them. But they also have a complicated history — a history that involves displacement of indigenous people. A history of broken promises. A history of genocide.
KIANA CARLSON: These parks are not untouched land. Sure it’s not touched by like skyscrapers or oil development, but people have been here forever, and this land has been touched forever.
WILLOW: Is there a way to right the wrongs of the past? Can we protect our wild spaces in a way that’s also socially just? Is there a way to create a better future, one park at a time?
Tune in on March 3 to hear that story.
(folksy music begins to play)
Before you go, I have an announcement to make.
We are going to be co-hosting an open mic night, and I would love for you to come!
It’s going to be on March 31st at 5:30 p.m. Pacific Time. That’s 8:30 p.m. Eastern. We’ll be co-hosting it with our friends at Kula Cloth, and I think it’s going to be loads of fun.
To register, go to outtherepodcast.com/openmic. The event is free, and it’s online, so you can join from wherever you are in the world.
I’d like to give a big thank you to Amber Warner, Charles Manna, Phil Timm, Doug Frick, Tara Joslin, and Deb and Vince Garcia.
They are Out There patrons, which means they make monthly financial contributions to Out There.
Out There is an independent podcast, and about half of our operating budget comes from listener gifts. So I mean it when I say we couldn’t produce this podcast without listeners like them.
If you’re not yet a patron, consider becoming one! Your contributions go directly toward paying for the stories you hear on this show.
Just go to patreon.com/outtherepodcast to sign up. That’s P-A-T-R-E-O-N-dot-com-slash-OutTherePodcast.
And as an added perk, if you become a patron by March 4 — or if you’re already a patron — I’ll invite you to our patrons-only happy hour in honor of Out There’s birthday.
Thank you SO much.
(music fades out)
If you are a skier, chances are you want some info about a mountain before you go there.
Maybe you want to know what the ski runs are like. Or you want to know the status of the various lifts. Or opening and closing times.
If that kind of info sounds helpful to you, check out an app called PeakVisor.
PeakVisor is one of our sponsors. Their app helps you plan out adventures by giving you detailed 3D maps of mountains all over the world. You can see ski runs and lifts, plus real-time info for almost all ski resorts in the U.S.
Check out PeakVisor in the app store. You just might love it.
(Out There theme music begins to play)
If you’re new to Out There, check out the Best of Out There playlist. This is a collection of some of our favorite episodes of all time — and it’s a great introduction to the range of stories we do on the show. You can find Best of Out There on Spotify, and at our website outtherepodcast.com.
Today’s story was written by Angie Chatman and edited by me, Willow Belden. Out There’s advertising manager is Jessica Taylor. Our audience growth director is Sheeba Joseph. Cara Schaefer is our print content coordinator. Our ambassadors are Tiffany Duong, Ashley White, and Stacia Bennet. And our theme music was written by Jared Arnold.
Have a beautiful day, and we’ll see you in two weeks.
(theme music ends on a last whistling note)
