front line - News - The Coastal Star2024-03-28T21:09:02Zhttps://thecoastalstar.com/profiles/blogs/feed/tag/front+lineReflections from the front line: Julie O'Brienhttps://thecoastalstar.com/profiles/blogs/reflections-from-the-front-line-julie-o-brien2020-09-02T18:03:39.000Z2020-09-02T18:03:39.000ZMary Kate Leminghttps://thecoastalstar.com/members/MaryKateLeming769<div><p><a href="{{#staticFileLink}}7960962659,original{{/staticFileLink}}" target="_blank"><img src="{{#staticFileLink}}7960962659,original{{/staticFileLink}}" class="align-left" alt="7960962659?profile=original" /></a>There are no high-fives in Julie O’Brien’s kindergarten class at St. Vincent Ferrer School. Ditto for circle time and close encounters. <br />Students, teachers and staff don masks, classes are smaller and there’s social distancing — not the easiest concept to explain to 5-year-olds.<br />Despite many modifications, O’Brien is glad to return to the private Delray Beach Catholic school after more than five months. <br />Although students had plenty of resources for remote learning and she held frequent one-on-one Zoom sessions, it wasn’t an ideal learning environment and she missed the in-person interaction. <br />“The toughest part was that my son was home watching me give my time to other kids and he couldn’t play with me. It was very stressful trying to balance school and home life.”<br />But being back on campus presents other challenges. <br />“My biggest concern is the crying child. My first instinct is to get on my knees and swoop in for a hug,” says O’Brien, 43. “Human beings need to touch. It is something I am used to doling out in spades. I usually have someone on my lap and two right next to me. It’s going to be different, but I will explain everything in ways they can understand.”<br />Versatility is key, she says, including a mask with a clear strip over her mouth so students can see her pronounce words. “Teachers are nothing if not flexible and ingenious. We will make it work,” she says emphatically.<br />Her message to others? “Teachers are doing the very best that we can. As scared as people are to send their children back to school, I have my own worries about going back and having my son start kindergarten.”<br />But there is much to be grateful for: “I get to go to school and pray because I am in a Catholic school where we depend on each other, but we depend on God, too.” <br /><em>— Linda Haase</em></p></div>Reflections from the front line: The Rev. D. Brian Horganhttps://thecoastalstar.com/profiles/blogs/reflections-from-the-front-line-the-rev-d-brian-horgan2020-09-02T18:01:28.000Z2020-09-02T18:01:28.000ZMary Kate Leminghttps://thecoastalstar.com/members/MaryKateLeming769<div><p><a href="{{#staticFileLink}}7960962864,original{{/staticFileLink}}" target="_blank"><img src="{{#staticFileLink}}7960962864,original{{/staticFileLink}}" class="align-left" alt="7960962864?profile=original" /></a>The Rev. D. Brian Horgan of St. Lucy Catholic Church in Highland Beach has been on the front lines of war before as a chaplain in the Air Force early in his pastoral career. Now, with COVID-19, he feels like he’s in a war again. <br />The pandemic has changed how we worship God and the way we bury our loved ones, Horgan said. About 60% of parishioners attend socially distanced Mass each week, but funerals are a different story. <br />“Most funerals have been with just the funeral director and the deceased,” Horgan said. “It’s been challenging, but we can do tremendous work with the families at home.” <br />In this small parish, which has lost more than a dozen members of its congregation to the virus, goodbyes are by telephone, and even clergy can’t bridge that gap.<br /> “Sometimes we get in and sometimes we don’t,” Horgan said. That means some don’t receive last rites, an important final sacrament that includes confession and absolution. <br />“It wipes away all your sins” before death, Horgan explained, and “it brings great comfort to the dying.” <br />Horgan can perform last rites weeks before a person dies or if someone is facing a serious medical procedure, but COVID usually arrives unexpectedly.<br /> Loved ones’ not receiving that final Communion weighs heavily on the hearts of some families. But Horgan finds a way to comfort his parishioners. A priest isn’t needed for someone to be absolved of sins, he said, if he or she simply repents and asks forgiveness. “God is full of mercy and love.” <br />Horgan, who earned medals for his work during Operation Iraqi Freedom in 2008, says COVID-19 is “a clever enemy shrouded in mystery.” <br />He senses an underlying fear that reminds him of war.<br /> But “don’t be afraid. Fear is a ‘false experience appearing real,’” Horgan says, spelling out an acronym associated with the word. “I trust God and serving God’s people is the most important thing I do. Fear won’t hold me back.” <br /> <em>— Janis Fontaine</em></p></div>Reflections from the front linehttps://thecoastalstar.com/profiles/blogs/reflections-from-the-front-line-12020-09-02T18:00:00.000Z2020-09-02T18:00:00.000ZMary Kate Leminghttps://thecoastalstar.com/members/MaryKateLeming769<div><div class="postbody" style="text-align:center;"><em><a href="{{#staticFileLink}}7960960501,original{{/staticFileLink}}" target="_blank"><img src="{{#staticFileLink}}7960960501,original{{/staticFileLink}}" class="align-center" alt="7960960501?profile=original" /></a></em><em>Kindergarten teacher Julie O’Brien, the Rev. D. Brian Horgan, Dr. Bill Benda, Battalion Chief Kevin Saxton, restaurant manager Sue Brown, postal clerk Valerie Jacoby and Shipt shopper Michael Varesio. <strong>Seven photos shot individually at a COVID-19 safe distance and assembled into this composite by Tim Stepien/The Coastal Star </strong></em></div>
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<div class="postbody" style="text-align:center;">This Labor Day, essential workers reveal how their jobs have changed to meet the challenges of the coronavirus pandemic. These are the folks who protect us from fires, comfort our souls, teach our children, deliver food and mail, and treat those who have fallen ill to COVID-19.</div>
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<div class="postbody" style="text-align:center;"><strong>Meet your neighbors on the front line<br /></strong></div>
<div class="postbody" style="text-align:center;"><strong><a href="https://thecoastalstar.com/profiles/blogs/reflections-from-the-front-line-julie-o-brien" target="_blank">O'Brien</a> | <a href="https://thecoastalstar.com/profiles/blogs/reflections-from-the-front-line-the-rev-d-brian-horgan" target="_blank">Horgan</a> | <a href="https://thecoastalstar.com/profiles/blogs/reflections-from-the-front-line-dr-bill-benda" target="_blank">Benda</a> | <a href="https://thecoastalstar.com/profiles/blogs/reflections-from-the-front-line-kevin-saxton" target="_blank">Saxton</a> | <a href="https://thecoastalstar.com/profiles/blogs/reflections-from-the-front-line-sue-brown" target="_blank">Brown</a> | <a href="https://thecoastalstar.com/profiles/blogs/reflections-from-the-front-line-valerie-jacoby" target="_blank">Jacoby</a> | <a href="https://thecoastalstar.com/profiles/blogs/reflections-from-the-front-line" target="_blank">Varesio</a></strong></div></div>Reflections from the front line: Dr. Bill Bendahttps://thecoastalstar.com/profiles/blogs/reflections-from-the-front-line-dr-bill-benda2020-09-02T17:59:09.000Z2020-09-02T17:59:09.000ZMary Kate Leminghttps://thecoastalstar.com/members/MaryKateLeming769<div><p><a href="{{#staticFileLink}}7960961896,original{{/staticFileLink}}" target="_blank"><img src="{{#staticFileLink}}7960961896,original{{/staticFileLink}}" class="align-left" alt="7960961896?profile=original" /></a>COVID-19 is far from done with Palm Beach County, but emergency room physician Dr. Bill Benda is less stressed than he was early on in the pandemic.<br />Doctors knew very little about the novel coronavirus or how to treat it in March. But the county’s stay-at-home lockdown slowed the contagion, buying them time to learn.<br />When the county eased restrictions and cases spiked this summer, Benda, who lives in the County Pocket near Briny Breezes, knew much more about how to manage the disease.<br />“When this first hit, we had no idea how dangerous this was and how contagious this was,” he said. “Now … we are much more experienced with how it works, so it is not nearly as stressful as it was in the early days.<br />“When something is unknown, it is scary. Now we don’t have that overarching fear we had initially.”<br />As the number of infected people mounts, Benda, 66, said doctors and hospitals are better able to cope.<br />Hospitals now have special units for COVID-19 patients, which take pressure off ICUs. Several treatment options are available for the seriously ill. Doctors better understand when a patient must be hospitalized or can be sent home to recover. <br />The FAU associate professor estimates he works three to four 10-hour hospital shifts a week, supervising two residents and one four-year medical student per shift. He spends additional time on teaching and administrative responsibilities at FAU. He and the residents see about 30 patients each shift, of which about 20% have or are suspected to have COVID-19. Two of his residents fell ill, one gravely so.<br />The lack of adequate testing remains “a huge issue” that hinders patient care. “That is why we are in the mess we are today that almost no other country is in,” he said.<br />Benda’s advice: Follow epidemiologists’ instructions to avoid crowds, wear masks and practice social distancing. “Not following what they say is insane and it will lead to more disaster.” <br /><em>— Mary Hladky</em></p></div>Reflections from the front line: Kevin Saxtonhttps://thecoastalstar.com/profiles/blogs/reflections-from-the-front-line-kevin-saxton2020-09-02T17:56:07.000Z2020-09-02T17:56:07.000ZMary Kate Leminghttps://thecoastalstar.com/members/MaryKateLeming769<div><p><a href="{{#staticFileLink}}7960962492,original{{/staticFileLink}}" target="_blank"><img src="{{#staticFileLink}}7960962492,original{{/staticFileLink}}" class="align-left" alt="7960962492?profile=original" /></a>The threat of COVID-19 is always on Kevin Saxton’s mind, but the Delray Beach Fire Rescue battalion chief won’t let the highly contagious disease prevent him from fully serving the community.<br />“It’s something I think about all the time,” says Saxton, who is 38 and in his 17th year with the department. “I’m going to take the precautions I need to take, but I’m still going to do my job.”<br />He is responsible for the overall operations of the department’s six stations on the days when he is on shift. While he doesn’t respond to most calls, he remains available. He monitors the radio and makes sure those who do answer a call are doing what’s needed to adequately protect themselves and the rest of the crew from the disease. <br />“The virus has complicated our responses,” he said. “It takes us a little longer to get ready and there’s a lot more decontamination.”<br />Along with changing the way the department handles calls, the virus has affected how firefighters interact with one another when they’re not responding. <br />To minimize the spread of the virus, all are required to wear masks in the station while in common areas. And, instead of everyone eating at one long table, the shift is split by squad into two tables with everyone maintaining 6-foot separation. <br />“We’re just not spending as much time together,” Saxton says.<br />Even when they are on a call, firefighters and paramedics are maintaining a safe distance, especially on medical calls. <br />One member of the three-person crew will make contact with the caller and another will be available if needed. The third person remains in the truck. <br />“It’s one fewer person who is exposed,” Saxton says. <br />As shift supervisor, Saxton is vigilant to make sure everyone takes necessary precautions. “You want to make sure we don’t put our guard down,” he said. <br /><em>— Rich Pollack</em></p></div>Reflections from the front line: Sue Brownhttps://thecoastalstar.com/profiles/blogs/reflections-from-the-front-line-sue-brown2020-09-02T17:53:58.000Z2020-09-02T17:53:58.000ZMary Kate Leminghttps://thecoastalstar.com/members/MaryKateLeming769<div><p><a href="{{#staticFileLink}}7960962097,original{{/staticFileLink}}" target="_blank"><img src="{{#staticFileLink}}7960962097,original{{/staticFileLink}}" class="align-left" alt="7960962097?profile=original" /></a>Sue Brown has undoubtedly encountered nearly every challenge in the restaurant business.<br />But COVID-19 was a game changer. Brown, the general manager of Oceano Kitchen in Lantana, had a lot more to worry about than inventory when the eatery had to halt in-person dining. <br />The Ocean Avenue restaurant shifted to takeout — for the first time. “We weren’t set up for it. It was a learning curve, but we figured it out pretty quickly,” says the Hypoluxo Island resident, who did not want to reveal her age.<br />Everything was uncertain, but staff was buoyed by customers checking in with encouraging words, homemade masks and even monetary donations. <br />“Our customers tell us how grateful they are that we are open. We are even more grateful to them for coming in.” <br />Dining on the open-air deck has resumed, but for Brown — along with other servers — things aren’t the same: Masks are stifling, cleaning is constant, and hands are washed repeatedly. <br />“We are like anyone else, just doing our jobs. We might be a little slower because we have to wash our hands more, so patience is a good thing,” she says.<br />“When we resumed dine-in it was a little nerve-racking, but I know the majority of my customers so there is a trust level,” she says. “As time went on, I got more comfortable with it. I feel safe. I trust my fellow workers and customers.”<br />The staff is conscious of health protocols when off-duty, she says. “We know if one of us goes down all of us go down. We are a team and in it together,” Brown says. “It’s been hard for everyone. But we still laugh a lot.”<br />Although some customers are comfortable only with takeout, Brown looks forward to the day when she’ll see them dining at one of her tables. <br />“When everybody feels comfortable coming back, then I will be happy.” <br /><em>— Linda Haase</em></p></div>Reflections from the front line: Valerie Jacobyhttps://thecoastalstar.com/profiles/blogs/reflections-from-the-front-line-valerie-jacoby2020-09-02T17:30:00.000Z2020-09-02T17:30:00.000ZMary Kate Leminghttps://thecoastalstar.com/members/MaryKateLeming769<div><p><a href="{{#staticFileLink}}7960961877,original{{/staticFileLink}}" target="_blank"><img src="{{#staticFileLink}}7960961877,original{{/staticFileLink}}" class="align-left" alt="7960961877?profile=original" /></a>During the 20 years that Valerie Jacoby has been behind the counter of the Highland Beach Community Post Office, she’s gotten to know many of the residents. <br /> Over the years, folks would come into the small-contract postal station, established in 1964 as a convenience for people who didn’t want to cross the bridge to Boca Raton, and catch up on what was happening around them. <br /> Some, who might bump into neighbors, would stay for a few minutes talking about everything from the impertinent to the important. <br /> “One of my co-workers used to compare it to Mayberry,” says Jacoby, 60. <br /> Now, with COVID-19 as a backdrop, the atmosphere is more like that of a regular post office. Amid constant concerns about contagion, conversations have been converted to shorter chatter in an environment where safety is a top priority. <br /> “It’s just a little more clinical,” says Jacoby, who worked for the U.S. Postal Service in Illinois for several years before moving to Florida. <br /> Run by the town of Highland Beach, the post office behind Town Hall has offered residents — those wishing to buy stamps or mail packages — an alternative to visiting a larger, potentially more crowded postal station. <br /> With the arrival of the virus, town leaders have made necessary changes and instituted precautionary measures while hoping to keep the post office open.<br /> “They’ve really done a lot to keep everyone safe,” Jacoby says. <br /> One of the most obvious changes has been a rearranging of the small lobby. A tempered glass partition separates customers from clerks and a pullout drawer makes it easier to mail a package.<br /> Customers are required to wear masks and hours have been cut from a full day to 8:30 a.m. to 12:30 p.m.<br /> With just two customers allowed in the 500-square-foot building at a time and social distancing expected, the post office remains a safe convenience for residents and a safe place to work for Jacoby. <br /> <em>— Rich Pollack</em></p></div>Reflections from the front line: Michael Varesiohttps://thecoastalstar.com/profiles/blogs/reflections-from-the-front-line2020-09-02T17:30:00.000Z2020-09-02T17:30:00.000ZMary Kate Leminghttps://thecoastalstar.com/members/MaryKateLeming769<div><p><a href="{{#staticFileLink}}7960961855,original{{/staticFileLink}}" target="_blank"><img src="{{#staticFileLink}}7960961855,original{{/staticFileLink}}" class="align-left" alt="7960961855?profile=original" /></a>When Michael Varesio joined the ranks of Shipt shoppers in January, he never anticipated a pandemic that would turn him into an essential worker. <br /> It was overwhelming: The 47-year-old Boynton Beach resident worked 61 days straight, took a day off, then toiled 21 more days, frantically buying groceries for people who feared leaving their homes.<br /> “Nobody was ready for this. The orders were insane. I felt bad if I didn’t take an order, I was worried someone wouldn’t be able to get groceries. I tried to do too much and had to cut back,” he admits.<br /> “Low inventory made the job stressful. Toilet paper and paper towels were scarce. Then the bread aisle was empty for weeks. After that, flour was gone. I haven’t seen anything with the word Lysol on it for months,” says Varesio, a father of two. “I felt bad texting people every two seconds to update them. I didn’t know what they were doing. They might have been working or feeding the baby. Most said not to worry (if I was late), that they weren’t going anywhere, which made things easier.”<br /> Although the workload decreased and inventory increased, risks linger. <br /> “I’m aware of the possibilities of getting COVID and I take all the precautions and follow the rules to stay healthy. And after I put the groceries in the car, I sanitize my hands and clean my phone,” he explains. <br /> The outpouring of appreciation is an enormous perk. From Ziploc bags filled with masks to generous tips to thoughtful handmade thank-you notes, customers’ gratefulness is heartwarming, Varesio says.<br /> “The most surprising thing is the gratitude. I keep the thank-you notes. They mean so much,” he says. <br /> “I’m putting myself at risk, but I know I am helping people. I am not a nurse or a doctor, but I know that I am helping others and it feels good. I’m making a difference during a tough time.” <br /> <em>— Linda Haase</em></p></div>