Life in the covidiverse

Jonas Bonneta | Apr 08, 2020

(Editors note - The majority of our readers, like the majority of North Americans, are living sequestered lives in their homes these days, emerging only briefly for necessities. It leaves some time to reflect. Jonas Bonnetta, who lives with his partner Cayley Runciman and their 10 month old son Gem in Mountain Grove, is a musician/producer/ studio owner. We asked him to share his perspective on life in the alternative reality we all inhabit now. We will run more articles in this series in the coming weeks. Reader interested in sharing their perspective, can email This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it.)

In some ways, life out here, down the laneway in Mountain Grove, isn’t all that much different compared to a few months ago. The biggest noticeable difference for us has
been the lack of traffic out on the highway and the silence in the sky since the planes
were grounded. The nights are quiet and the soundscape has changed so much that we
often find ourselves looking out the window when a big truck passes in the distance,
sounding like it’s just outside the door. The stars all seem to be shining brighter, Venus
a beacon in the western sky, the air fresher, the deer have returned. I’m certain that a lot
of this comes from a renewed appreciation we have for living in this beautiful part of the
country. We’ve been living in some form of self-isolation for 7 years now, it seems;
working from home, busying ourselves with projects. If we leave the radio and the news
off, it’s springtime as usual. The hunt for our garden tools and seeds has begun. Our
lists of outdoor chores is getting longer and longer. My bike has come off the indoor
trainer and christened the roads again.

But the reality is that it feels like a different world now. We’ve had to cease our business
entirely. A couple of weeks ago, we decided it was too much of a threat to our
community to have musicians traveling from big cities to our small town, even though
they’re isolated here. Now I’m feeling like an I.T. manager, sorting through different
video conferencing software to see how quickly I can pivot to mixing records for people
over the internet as opposed to having them here at the studio, where I normally work
hands on with each artist, helping them shape and record their songs. Now I’m doing
some of that work over the phone and making big plans for the fall/future to dig in real
hard and try and bounce back. It’ll happen. At some point. I’m hopeful.

I’m grateful for the people in the community that have checked in on us.. Those little
calls and text messages go a long way and I hope that practice continues long after this
virus is gone. We’ve been trying to reach out to our neighbours before a run to town for
groceries. Everyone seems to be hunkering down and I’m proud of this community.
There is a team spirit that has come out of this that brings me to tears. I salute the
people running the tills at the grocery store. I wish I could’ve given them all hugs last
week. Everyone waving to one another on the road. Patience seemed to be at an all
time high. Flour on the grocery store shelves is running low as everyone reverts back to
the old days of slow living and scratch cooking. The puzzles have come out on the card
tables. The board games return. The tempo suits me just fine.

Our son is growing up so quickly and spending time with his grandparents via phone
screens as opposed to in their arms. This hurts. It’s far from an ideal way for them to
watch their first grandkid grow up, but it’s the reality for now. To be honest, I’ve never
been so closely connected to my family, it seems. Most days, I’m on the phone with my
siblings in New York, Los Angeles, and Toronto. My mom, painfully close in Bath, but
still obeying orders and staying at home. But our son is beautifully oblivious to it all. He
laughs at the camera and then is off shuffling across the kitchen floor to drop playing
cards in the cat’s water dish or to eat the cache of Cheerios he strategically dropped on
the floor earlier. Each day we get out for a walk down the laneway, to check the mailbox,
climb the hill to the radio tower, and to take deep breaths of the hot sun on the pine
needles, instantly taking me back to summertime, a lifetime away, pre-virus. It’s a sweet
time with him each day and one that adds some profundity to how immense this thing is
we’re going through together, not just as a community, but as the world. It’s showing me
the power of the collective and what we can do when we all focus intensely on one
thing. It gives me hope for the climate, politics, and my son’s future. I feel more
connected to this planet and the people than I have in a long time and want to continue
to learn from this moment. It is tremendous what we can overcome when we all work
together.

I hope we can continue to lay low, stay healthy, enjoy the quiet, get the garden started,
stay connected, and kick this thing as one big family.

Lots of love,
Jonas