People's only exercise is often walking. People started putting signs in their front yards, to amuse, provoke a smile or just say hi.

To make children's daily walks more interesting people started putting plush animals in windows, trees and gardens to create a safari.

Billboard giving instructions for social distancing

Public billboards warning people of restrictions and telling them to go home.

Thousands of residential renters plan to stop paying their landlords from April 2020 in a nationwide strike as government negotiations stall.

As lockdowns loom, people panic buy and grocery shelves remain empty.

As the threat of COVID-19 drew closer to home a few local retail businesses in Kentucky have responded through social media by producing topical merchandise designs such as this one. A play on the state slogan “united we stand, divided we fall” it is a nod to the social distancing rule of keeping six feet apart. It is also a humorous re-imagining of Kentucky’s state flag design, which usually reads “Commonwealth of Kentucky” instead of “Commonhealth of Kentucky” and normally features the two figures seen in the center of the image shaking hands. In this image, however, they stand like the rest of us, being in each other’s company from a distance. #DePaulHST391

Home office. Since 16th March we were asked to work from home and were given necessary hardware from the office to set up our stations at home.

Home office. Since 16th March we were asked to work from home and were given necessary hardware from the office to set up our stations at home.

○ Every day at 5pm people across the state of Kentucky turn on their televisions and tune in to Governor Andy Beshear’s daily update on COVID-19. For many this daily ritual has become a source of comfort and encouragement, a glimmer of hope. Every day for weeks Governor Beshear has come on TV to remind Kentuckians that their individual actions are powerful and their choices to follow social distancing guidelines during this crisis directly affect the other people in their communities, and reminds everyone that as “Team Kentucky” the state will get through the COVID-19 pandemic together. #DePaulHST391

Steven Luse

Freeway sign heading north on I-10 near the Wild Horse Pass Casino. The signs states: Stay Home Stay Healthy Stop Covid-19

5 yo Maya Peralta-Kole plays "Rock, paper, scissors," through the fence with her neighbor and classmate from Scales Technology Academy. Though, it's a bit hard to play without a clear line of site. After calling "Rock, paper, scissors," the girls ask each other what they picked. The first to answer that question is usually the first to lose.

It's a chalk message, presumably written out by a child, which is conveying what we all feel about this pandemic "Corona is a pain in the butt"

After college, and a year of vagabonding through Central and South America, I moved to the city forty-two years ago. I was drawn to New York, like many, by the energy and complexity of the city itself, and more specifically, the rich and endless theater found on its streets. While the array of cultural offerings has been a source of nourishment and pleasure, it is the streetlife that keeps me as excited as my first weeks here. What I love about New York is not what I know about the city, but how much I don't know. You cannot exhaust it as a subject, and from the start, I have made the city my primary interest and subject as a photographer. I always go out with a camera and am often mistaken as a tourist because of it. I take that as a compliment, given few can match the exalted state of excitement and awareness that a tourist experiences on a visit. When the Coronavirus hit and the staggered shutdown of the city went from a talked about possibility to a reality, I found myself inside my apartment looking out at the street below. At first, I made short trips to get necessities, then later added walks through Central Park, and now through the streets of Manhattan. If you think of a photograph as a piece of theater, with a stage set, lighting, cast, and choreography, the new version of the streetlife of New York is an eerie and fascinating show. The set and lighting is much the same, but the cast and choreography have wildly changed. Wandering through Midtown is like walking through an amusement park in the off-season. You experience the present colored by what you know it to be in season.

After college, and a year of vagabonding through Central and South America, I moved to the city forty-two years ago. I was drawn to New York, like many, by the energy and complexity of the city itself, and more specifically, the rich and endless theater found on its streets. While the array of cultural offerings has been a source of nourishment and pleasure, it is the streetlife that keeps me as excited as my first weeks here. What I love about New York is not what I know about the city, but how much I don't know. You cannot exhaust it as a subject, and from the start, I have made the city my primary interest and subject as a photographer. I always go out with a camera and am often mistaken as a tourist because of it. I take that as a compliment, given few can match the exalted state of excitement and awareness that a tourist experiences on a visit. When the Coronavirus hit and the staggered shutdown of the city went from a talked about possibility to a reality, I found myself inside my apartment looking out at the street below. At first, I made short trips to get necessities, then later added walks through Central Park, and now through the streets of Manhattan. If you think of a photograph as a piece of theater, with a stage set, lighting, cast, and choreography, the new version of the streetlife of New York is an eerie and fascinating show. The set and lighting is much the same, but the cast and choreography have wildly changed. Wandering through Midtown is like walking through an amusement park in the off-season. You experience the present colored by what you know it to be in season.

After college, and a year of vagabonding through Central and South America, I moved to the city forty-two years ago. I was drawn to New York, like many, by the energy and complexity of the city itself, and more specifically, the rich and endless theater found on its streets. While the array of cultural offerings has been a source of nourishment and pleasure, it is the streetlife that keeps me as excited as my first weeks here. What I love about New York is not what I know about the city, but how much I don't know. You cannot exhaust it as a subject, and from the start, I have made the city my primary interest and subject as a photographer. I always go out with a camera and am often mistaken as a tourist because of it. I take that as a compliment, given few can match the exalted state of excitement and awareness that a tourist experiences on a visit. When the Coronavirus hit and the staggered shutdown of the city went from a talked about possibility to a reality, I found myself inside my apartment looking out at the street below. At first, I made short trips to get necessities, then later added walks through Central Park, and now through the streets of Manhattan. If you think of a photograph as a piece of theater, with a stage set, lighting, cast, and choreography, the new version of the streetlife of New York is an eerie and fascinating show. The set and lighting is much the same, but the cast and choreography have wildly changed. Wandering through Midtown is like walking through an amusement park in the off-season. You experience the present colored by what you know it to be in season.

After college, and a year of vagabonding through Central and South America, I moved to the city forty-two years ago. I was drawn to New York, like many, by the energy and complexity of the city itself, and more specifically, the rich and endless theater found on its streets. While the array of cultural offerings has been a source of nourishment and pleasure, it is the streetlife that keeps me as excited as my first weeks here. What I love about New York is not what I know about the city, but how much I don't know. You cannot exhaust it as a subject, and from the start, I have made the city my primary interest and subject as a photographer. I always go out with a camera and am often mistaken as a tourist because of it. I take that as a compliment, given few can match the exalted state of excitement and awareness that a tourist experiences on a visit. When the Coronavirus hit and the staggered shutdown of the city went from a talked about possibility to a reality, I found myself inside my apartment looking out at the street below. At first, I made short trips to get necessities, then later added walks through Central Park, and now through the streets of Manhattan. If you think of a photograph as a piece of theater, with a stage set, lighting, cast, and choreography, the new version of the streetlife of New York is an eerie and fascinating show. The set and lighting is much the same, but the cast and choreography have wildly changed. Wandering through Midtown is like walking through an amusement park in the off-season. You experience the present colored by what you know it to be in season.

After college, and a year of vagabonding through Central and South America, I moved to the city forty-two years ago. I was drawn to New York, like many, by the energy and complexity of the city itself, and more specifically, the rich and endless theater found on its streets. While the array of cultural offerings has been a source of nourishment and pleasure, it is the streetlife that keeps me as excited as my first weeks here. What I love about New York is not what I know about the city, but how much I don't know. You cannot exhaust it as a subject, and from the start, I have made the city my primary interest and subject as a photographer. I always go out with a camera and am often mistaken as a tourist because of it. I take that as a compliment, given few can match the exalted state of excitement and awareness that a tourist experiences on a visit. When the Coronavirus hit and the staggered shutdown of the city went from a talked about possibility to a reality, I found myself inside my apartment looking out at the street below. At first, I made short trips to get necessities, then later added walks through Central Park, and now through the streets of Manhattan. If you think of a photograph as a piece of theater, with a stage set, lighting, cast, and choreography, the new version of the streetlife of New York is an eerie and fascinating show. The set and lighting is much the same, but the cast and choreography have wildly changed. Wandering through Midtown is like walking through an amusement park in the off-season. You experience the present colored by what you know it to be in season.

After college, and a year of vagabonding through Central and South America, I moved to the city forty-two years ago. I was drawn to New York, like many, by the energy and complexity of the city itself, and more specifically, the rich and endless theater found on its streets. While the array of cultural offerings has been a source of nourishment and pleasure, it is the streetlife that keeps me as excited as my first weeks here. What I love about New York is not what I know about the city, but how much I don't know. You cannot exhaust it as a subject, and from the start, I have made the city my primary interest and subject as a photographer. I always go out with a camera and am often mistaken as a tourist because of it. I take that as a compliment, given few can match the exalted state of excitement and awareness that a tourist experiences on a visit. When the Coronavirus hit and the staggered shutdown of the city went from a talked about possibility to a reality, I found myself inside my apartment looking out at the street below. At first, I made short trips to get necessities, then later added walks through Central Park, and now through the streets of Manhattan. If you think of a photograph as a piece of theater, with a stage set, lighting, cast, and choreography, the new version of the streetlife of New York is an eerie and fascinating show. The set and lighting is much the same, but the cast and choreography have wildly changed. Wandering through Midtown is like walking through an amusement park in the off-season. You experience the present colored by what you know it to be in season.

After college, and a year of vagabonding through Central and South America, I moved to the city forty-two years ago. I was drawn to New York, like many, by the energy and complexity of the city itself, and more specifically, the rich and endless theater found on its streets. While the array of cultural offerings has been a source of nourishment and pleasure, it is the streetlife that keeps me as excited as my first weeks here. What I love about New York is not what I know about the city, but how much I don't know. You cannot exhaust it as a subject, and from the start, I have made the city my primary interest and subject as a photographer. I always go out with a camera and am often mistaken as a tourist because of it. I take that as a compliment, given few can match the exalted state of excitement and awareness that a tourist experiences on a visit. When the Coronavirus hit and the staggered shutdown of the city went from a talked about possibility to a reality, I found myself inside my apartment looking out at the street below. At first, I made short trips to get necessities, then later added walks through Central Park, and now through the streets of Manhattan. If you think of a photograph as a piece of theater, with a stage set, lighting, cast, and choreography, the new version of the streetlife of New York is an eerie and fascinating show. The set and lighting is much the same, but the cast and choreography have wildly changed. Wandering through Midtown is like walking through an amusement park in the off-season. You experience the present colored by what you know it to be in season.

After college, and a year of vagabonding through Central and South America, I moved to the city forty-two years ago. I was drawn to New York, like many, by the energy and complexity of the city itself, and more specifically, the rich and endless theater found on its streets. While the array of cultural offerings has been a source of nourishment and pleasure, it is the streetlife that keeps me as excited as my first weeks here. What I love about New York is not what I know about the city, but how much I don't know. You cannot exhaust it as a subject, and from the start, I have made the city my primary interest and subject as a photographer. I always go out with a camera and am often mistaken as a tourist because of it. I take that as a compliment, given few can match the exalted state of excitement and awareness that a tourist experiences on a visit. When the Coronavirus hit and the staggered shutdown of the city went from a talked about possibility to a reality, I found myself inside my apartment looking out at the street below. At first, I made short trips to get necessities, then later added walks through Central Park, and now through the streets of Manhattan. If you think of a photograph as a piece of theater, with a stage set, lighting, cast, and choreography, the new version of the streetlife of New York is an eerie and fascinating show. The set and lighting is much the same, but the cast and choreography have wildly changed. Wandering through Midtown is like walking through an amusement park in the off-season. You experience the present colored by what you know it to be in season.

After college, and a year of vagabonding through Central and South America, I moved to the city forty-two years ago. I was drawn to New York, like many, by the energy and complexity of the city itself, and more specifically, the rich and endless theater found on its streets. While the array of cultural offerings has been a source of nourishment and pleasure, it is the streetlife that keeps me as excited as my first weeks here. What I love about New York is not what I know about the city, but how much I don't know. You cannot exhaust it as a subject, and from the start, I have made the city my primary interest and subject as a photographer. I always go out with a camera and am often mistaken as a tourist because of it. I take that as a compliment, given few can match the exalted state of excitement and awareness that a tourist experiences on a visit. When the Coronavirus hit and the staggered shutdown of the city went from a talked about possibility to a reality, I found myself inside my apartment looking out at the street below. At first, I made short trips to get necessities, then later added walks through Central Park, and now through the streets of Manhattan. If you think of a photograph as a piece of theater, with a stage set, lighting, cast, and choreography, the new version of the streetlife of New York is an eerie and fascinating show. The set and lighting is much the same, but the cast and choreography have wildly changed. Wandering through Midtown is like walking through an amusement park in the off-season. You experience the present colored by what you know it to be in season.

After college, and a year of vagabonding through Central and South America, I moved to the city forty-two years ago. I was drawn to New York, like many, by the energy and complexity of the city itself, and more specifically, the rich and endless theater found on its streets. While the array of cultural offerings has been a source of nourishment and pleasure, it is the streetlife that keeps me as excited as my first weeks here. What I love about New York is not what I know about the city, but how much I don't know. You cannot exhaust it as a subject, and from the start, I have made the city my primary interest and subject as a photographer. I always go out with a camera and am often mistaken as a tourist because of it. I take that as a compliment, given few can match the exalted state of excitement and awareness that a tourist experiences on a visit. When the Coronavirus hit and the staggered shutdown of the city went from a talked about possibility to a reality, I found myself inside my apartment looking out at the street below. At first, I made short trips to get necessities, then later added walks through Central Park, and now through the streets of Manhattan. If you think of a photograph as a piece of theater, with a stage set, lighting, cast, and choreography, the new version of the streetlife of New York is an eerie and fascinating show. The set and lighting is much the same, but the cast and choreography have wildly changed. Wandering through Midtown is like walking through an amusement park in the off-season. You experience the present colored by what you know it to be in season.

After college, and a year of vagabonding through Central and South America, I moved to the city forty-two years ago. I was drawn to New York, like many, by the energy and complexity of the city itself, and more specifically, the rich and endless theater found on its streets. While the array of cultural offerings has been a source of nourishment and pleasure, it is the streetlife that keeps me as excited as my first weeks here. What I love about New York is not what I know about the city, but how much I don't know. You cannot exhaust it as a subject, and from the start, I have made the city my primary interest and subject as a photographer. I always go out with a camera and am often mistaken as a tourist because of it. I take that as a compliment, given few can match the exalted state of excitement and awareness that a tourist experiences on a visit. When the Coronavirus hit and the staggered shutdown of the city went from a talked about possibility to a reality, I found myself inside my apartment looking out at the street below. At first, I made short trips to get necessities, then later added walks through Central Park, and now through the streets of Manhattan. If you think of a photograph as a piece of theater, with a stage set, lighting, cast, and choreography, the new version of the streetlife of New York is an eerie and fascinating show. The set and lighting is much the same, but the cast and choreography have wildly changed. Wandering through Midtown is like walking through an amusement park in the off-season. You experience the present colored by what you know it to be in season.

After college, and a year of vagabonding through Central and South America, I moved to the city forty-two years ago. I was drawn to New York, like many, by the energy and complexity of the city itself, and more specifically, the rich and endless theater found on its streets. While the array of cultural offerings has been a source of nourishment and pleasure, it is the streetlife that keeps me as excited as my first weeks here. What I love about New York is not what I know about the city, but how much I don't know. You cannot exhaust it as a subject, and from the start, I have made the city my primary interest and subject as a photographer. I always go out with a camera and am often mistaken as a tourist because of it. I take that as a compliment, given few can match the exalted state of excitement and awareness that a tourist experiences on a visit. When the Coronavirus hit and the staggered shutdown of the city went from a talked about possibility to a reality, I found myself inside my apartment looking out at the street below. At first, I made short trips to get necessities, then later added walks through Central Park, and now through the streets of Manhattan. If you think of a photograph as a piece of theater, with a stage set, lighting, cast, and choreography, the new version of the streetlife of New York is an eerie and fascinating show. The set and lighting is much the same, but the cast and choreography have wildly changed. Wandering through Midtown is like walking through an amusement park in the off-season. You experience the present colored by what you know it to be in season.

"Last month, Bandcamp waived their revenue share on all purchases for a 24-hour period, in a gesture of support to all the artists who've been impacted by the coronavirus lockdowns. The initiative was a huge success. Techcrunch.com reports it was the biggest day in the site's 11-year history: "artists raised $4.3 million in music and merchandise sales over the 24-hour period. That comes out to more than 15x Bandcamp’s normal numbers on a Friday — or, as the site puts, it 11 items per second over the course of the day. In all, some 800,000 items were sold, versus the standard 47,000." "We don’t yet know the long-term impact of Covid-19, but we know that we all need music — to uplift and inspire us, to heal us, and to give us hope," Bandcamp wrote on their website. "We’ll continue working to make Bandcamp the best place for fans and artists to come together and sustain each other in the challenging times ahead." Well, the online music company is doing just that on Friday, May 1st. More details will be shared next Monday, April 27th. Until then... start making your shopping lists. "

Staff have vacated offices in the Law School at the University of Melbourne but pot plants from all floors are being looked after in the lobby

Easter chalk message on neighbourhood footpath

The University of Melbourne campus has a deserted feel due to access restrictions

Access restrictions to the Law Building at the University of Melbourne

Access to the University of Melbourne Parkville campus has been restricted for some weeks now

Neighbours have started up a practice of leaving spare herbs outside their gates for anyone to share

Local cafes can only serve takeaway so our local Italian cafe Tre Fontane is reinventing itself as an Italian grocer to stay in business

We have reached the point where many Americans are receiving their stimulus checks as an economic relief in response to the hardships Covid-19 has brought upon our economy. Many are getting at least $1200 on their checks and many memes are surfacing with different ways to spend the money (none of which are for the checks intended purpose). This, along with the added popularity of Tiger King made for this quality meme.

Market Vendors have been asked to not return home, and remain in their shops over night to prevent the spread of the Coronavirus.

It had been exactly 39 days since the last time I saw my partner. At the beginning of March, I made the decision to move in with my Mother in Tucson, where I had resolved to stay with her until the crisis was over. I needed to move out of my Tempe home by April 30th, so I made the trek from my parents’ house in Tucson back up to Tempe and enlisted my partner’s help in moving the last of my possessions. It felt dangerous, and even though it was essential travel and we’ve both been strict with social distancing since March, I must have asked at least ten times if she was sure it was safe. She assured me it was. I told her I was not sure if I could hug her. She told me it was okay. Before this whole crisis began, we had just started a conversation about moving in together. The 39 days apart provided some clarity: We wanted to take that leap as soon as it was safe to do so. As we looked at the stacks of boxes on my kitchen floor, we decided that some could be stored in her apartment. It was strange, because when 2020 began I had this vision of us packing up my stuff and moving in together. Here it was happening, but it wasn’t this joyous event, it just felt solemn. She cleared out space in her guestroom and we hauled boxes up three flights of stairs before we sat, winded, in her living room. It was so bittersweet—the hope of imagining this future together and the reality of our current separation. My favorite thing about our relationship is that it’s been defined by laughter. We’re always on some type of adventure, working on some new inside joke, and always pranking the other. But in isolation, it’s been hard for us to keep up the playful parts of our relationship. We can’t go on adventures, we can’t prank one another, and sometimes everything feels too serious to joke at all. Somedays, we’re too tired and sad to even talk much. As we moved things from my apartment to hers, she tried her best to cheer me up. She checked in with frequent are-you-okays and trotted out her best comedic material to elicit laughs. She’s become quite the TikTok aficionado in quarantine, and many of our jokes right now are shaped by the absurdist videos on the internet. Sure enough, each time we placed a new box in the car, she loudly yelled “CAROLE BASKIN”, a reference to the TikTok Tiger King inspired dance. Soon, throughout the afternoon, we’d both break out in the TikTok Song. CAROLE BASKIN! Killed her husband, WHACKED HIM. Can’t convince me that it didn’t HAPPEN Fed him to tigers THEY SNACKIN CAROLE BASKIN! As we sat in her apartment on Sunday evening, I got an idea. I walked to the front of the couch like I was presenting at a conference. “Play the music!” “What music?” “Play the Carole Basking song!” It took me a few times before I began to freestyle some moves. “You have to use your hips more!” she directed. “What? No, I don’t!” She pulled up another video for reference. “All the good TikTok dancers use their hips!” I tried again, this time bouncing my hips in ridiculous fashion. CAROLE BASKIN! (I shook my hands above my head) Killed her (I drew my thumb across my throat) husband (I pointed to my ring finger) WHACKED HIM (I mimicked an axe movement) Can’t convince me that it didn’t (I wagged my fingers and made an X across my chest with my arms) HAPPEN (I tapped my arms by my side) Fed him to tigers (I gestured from my chest out) THEY SNACKIN (My outward arms made the alligator chomp twice on beat, before I drew my arms up to claws) CAROLE BASKIN! (I bounced on my hip and flared my tiger claws outward with a rawr expression) By the time the dance was over, my partner was howling with laughter and I was too. It was the hardest we had laughed together in weeks. Before this pandemic started, I thought TikTok was silly. I still have no plans to join TikTok and I sincerely hope my TikTok dances never end up on the internet. I’ve also never seen Tiger King and I have no plans to and I keep hearing about Joe Exotic with no idea who that is. But honestly it doesn’t matter what I think about TikTok or Tiger King, because I know they make my partner laugh. They bring her joy during this terrible time. I know that a lot of other people feel that way right now too. So here I am, documenting my first TikTok dance; Or, as I like to think of it, a strange act of love in the midst of this pandemic.

This article examines how students are responding to the semester being online and potential job opportunities being lost. Students lost half a semester of connection, opportunity, and milestones.

After college, and a year of vagabonding through Central and South America, I moved to the city forty-two years ago. I was drawn to New York, like many, by the energy and complexity of the city itself, and more specifically, the rich and endless theater found on its streets. While the array of cultural offerings has been a source of nourishment and pleasure, it is the streetlife that keeps me as excited as my first weeks here. What I love about New York is not what I know about the city, but how much I don't know. You cannot exhaust it as a subject, and from the start, I have made the city my primary interest and subject as a photographer. I always go out with a camera and am often mistaken as a tourist because of it. I take that as a compliment, given few can match the exalted state of excitement and awareness that a tourist experiences on a visit. When the Coronavirus hit and the staggered shutdown of the city went from a talked about possibility to a reality, I found myself inside my apartment looking out at the street below. At first, I made short trips to get necessities, then later added walks through Central Park, and now through the streets of Manhattan. If you think of a photograph as a piece of theater, with a stage set, lighting, cast, and choreography, the new version of the streetlife of New York is an eerie and fascinating show. The set and lighting is much the same, but the cast and choreography have wildly changed. Wandering through Midtown is like walking through an amusement park in the off-season. You experience the present colored by what you know it to be in season.

Interbank of Peru donated 20,000 PPE kits to the Ministerio del Peru to help provide healthcare workers with the basic medical supplies they need.

"For those sheltering at home and practicing social distancing, there is only so much internet browsing and television watching one can do before cabin fever really sets in. Luckily, the Native Learning Center is ready to step in to expand minds through podcasts and webinare on multiple subjects." #IndigenousStories

"At about 8 p.m. on Thursday, penguins started to crowd Club Penguin’s snow forts in anticipation. My evening began like any other on Club Penguin. One penguin demanded we all write the word “egg” in unison on our chat boxes (I complied), and another suggested we all visit the Iceberg and attempt to tip it over. But mostly, everyone wanted to know, “WHERE’S SOCCER MOMMY?” It wasn’t until the clock struck 8 o’clock that we realized we had to waddle to the “stadium” in the distance — the promotional material probably could have benefitted from this information. Once inside, I was treated to more of the same classic Club Penguin banter. There was talk of Carole Baskin of Netflix fame and of throwing snowballs — a virtual penguin’s only weapon — onto the stage. A modern milieu."

Tweet about online Club Penguin concert being rescheduled

Although at one time we had the mechanisms in place to deal with a pandemic, those resources were disbanded for short sighted financial and political reasons. So, we were woefully unprepared for this pandemic. Lack of leadership worsened the situation and even exasperated the problem with negligence and outright misinformation. The long term consequences will be catastrophic. Personally I am frustrated every day as the death toll rises and the whole planet suffers. This would have been a bad thing at best, and is being made much worse by the lack of credible leadership.

The South City area of Saint Louis is a diverse, tight-knit community. It only makes sense that residents would go out of their way to assist each other during this difficult time. The residents of this home near the intersection of Arsenal St. and Gravois Rd. advertised resources in chalk writing on the exterior of the house, including a LinkTree website, toll-free helpline, and email account dedicated to helping those in need and connecting volunteers with service opportunities. There are also children’s chalk drawings of flowers and a rainbow on the exterior and of a rainbow and a pot of gold taped to the window. #DePaulHST391

As Easter Sunday approaches, President Trump’s prediction about crowds of people returning to mass is proving unrealistic. Saint Joseph Catholic Church in Libertyville, IL is one example of many Catholic Churches offering online mass as a substitute for in-person services. While religious services have been streamed before, and “Church TV” has existed for a long time, never have Church services across the world had to be cancelled to such a large degree and replaced by online streaming.#DePaulHST391

"Even before the COVID-19 public health crisis began to grip the globe, Indian Country faced significant challenges from underfunding in health care, education, broadband and internet access, economic development, housing, human services and more." As a result, tribal leaders held a March 20 teleconference to discuss their next move. #IndigenousStories

Luckily my 5 yo continues to lead a fairly normal life. Her screen time is usually limited to when her brother naps, (about 2 hrs. a day), and she is happy to spend the rest of the day playing, painting, and singing. Occasionally, she does talk about missing school, her friends, and her nana in Michigan, but we can usually patch over the pain with a video call.

Businesses have been creating motivational messages, which reminds me that we are all in this together.

Officials from local, state, federal and Nez Perce Tribal government come together for proactive coronavirus planning meeting to "ensure the Nez Perce Tribe is as prepared as can be." #IndigenousStories