A year into COVID-19, two Tacoma families still cheer first responders every night
In Hannah O’Leary’s house, it’s come to be known simply as “the 8 p.m. clap.”
Every night, like clockwork, it happens. Her neighbors next door, and the family across the street emerge from their homes. Then they cheer wildly and — yes — clap for one full minute, on the dot. Like similar gestures that originated in Europe during the burgeoning days of the COVID-19 pandemic and spread to the United States in the heyday of lockdowns and stay-at-home orders, it started as a way for two families to show respect and gratitude for first-line responders and essential workers.
More than a year later — while most of the communal applause and pot-banging has long since faded and we find ourselves trudging through yet another month of death and unknowns, even as the availability of vaccines finally puts hope on the horizon — it continues.
For O’Leary, a University of Puget Sound senior who moved in back in May and is now preparing to embark on the next stage of life, it’s become a constant time keeper during a year of strange isolation. It’s also been a source of inspiration, curiosity and occasional amusement, she says. Is hers the last block in the country still doing this, she’s often found herself wondering.
But for the families who have made the 8 p.m. clap part of their nightly routines for 13 months and counting, momentary notoriety has never been the goal — or even a consideration — according to Kevin Bartoy, whose family first started doing it back in early April 2020.
Rather, the motivation has always been bringing people together with a sense of purpose, even just for a minute each night.
“A lot of it is about ... cheering on essential workers and all those folks who are out there on the front lines for us all every day,” Bartoy said. “But it’s also a reminder, I think, that we’re still all in this together.”
Bartoy, 47, is the environmental stewardship and sustainability program manager for Washington State Ferries who lives with his wife and three children in North Tacoma, a few blocks from the UPS campus. As someone with the ability to work remotely, he was inspired by the ferry system’s early effort to blow its vessels’ horns at that time as a way to show appreciation for essential workers, including those who make the state’s ferry system run. If his employer could do it, so could his family, Bartoy remembers thinking.
Before long, the Shaws — who live in a house on the other side of North 16th — joined in. For two families, it has created a sense of connections and community that has helped each of them get by. In the most challenging of years, it’s also provided a needed release and a dose of optimism, they say.
Bartoy says he “really doubts that we’ve missed a night.” While he acknowledges that there have been moments when they’ve questioned how long they’ll keep at it — most notably, his wife — the involvement of children quickly made it hard to stop. In particular, Bartoy’s 10-year-old son Henry quickly took to the 8 p.m. clap with a keen sense of youthful dedication, he said.
“(Henry) is out there and no matter what,” Bartoy said. “He’s had a really great spirit. We explained it to him, early on, that it was about supporting essential workers and showing love for your community, and I think he’s really embraced that. He’s taken it on. It’s almost like a job for him now.”
According Marty Shaw, the experience has been similar for his 23-year-old son Trevor, whose autism gears him for the tightly monitored nightly routine the ritual provides. Trevor now serves as official timekeeper, tasked with starting and ending the 8 p.m. clap by the ticks of the family clock, his father explained.
“He gets so excited about it,” said Shaw, who also lives with his wife Tracy. “He’ll unlock that door, probably about 7:57. … It’s been a religious thing for a while now. So we feel good about it because we really do appreciate those people out there busting their butts and helping people. That’s what it’s all about it.”
Over the many months, O’Leary said, she and her roommates have often joined, sometimes venturing outside and other times stopping to yell and clap amid whatever else they’re doing. So have other neighbors, off and on, she said. She reached out to The News Tribune on a whim with the hyper-, hyper-local tip because of the impact it’s had and because she believes “people need good news.”
“This little street that we’re on has really shown me the power of having good neighbors and the impact that can have on feeling safe and hopeful,” O’Leary said. “It’s been really inspiring and really adorable to see them come out every night.”
Olivia Sherry, who moved in along with O’Leary almost exactly a year ago, said the experience has provided a lesson on the power of community. Like her housemates, she’s preparing to graduate and move out and has been struck how much she’ll miss it when she leaves.
Sure, sometimes they see bewildered looks from passersby, but more often they see smiles and reciprocated enthusiasm. From the start of the pandemic through the cold dark winter and now as the light begins to return, their neighbors have been the two constant positive forces, Sherry said, and there’s something to be said for that.
On Tuesday, Bartoy said there are no plans to stop anytime soon.
The tradition will end at some point, he knows, but for now it still feels important and meaningful, and they intend to hold onto it as long as they can.
“We haven’t actually ever addressed the fact of when this is going to end,” Bartoy said.
“This is one of those events like (World War II), when people have to come together to defeat it, if we’re going to do it. And I don’t think we have yet. So I guess that still drives me.”
