There’s no sugarcoating it: The COVID-19 pandemic has been horrific.

In all, about 7 million people died around the world, including more than 1.2 million in the United States, according to the World Health Organization. During the worst of the pandemic, economies shifted, international tensions grew and the already sharp-elbowed nature of American politics grew even harsher.

Though the pandemic isn’t over, the good news is that COVID-19 is no longer a global emergency. Officially, the WHO declared so in mid-2023. And health data collected since then backs that up. During the week that ended Feb. 8 – the last week for which full data is available – COVID-19 killed 735 Americans, according to the Centers for Disease Control. At its U.S. peak, the week that ended Jan. 8, 2021, America’s COVID death toll hit 25,974.

So, with the carnage over, what’s left is permanent change. And some that change is rough.

We didn’t trust media or politicians very much before the pandemic, and since then those feelings have only grown, according to polling released last month by Pew Research. Worse, the research suggests we don’t trust each other much, either. The bottom-line finding in the Pew poll is that most Americans believe the pandemic “drove people apart.”

But the pandemic changed us in many other ways, too, and not all of them are awful.

Lockdowns, which kicked off five years ago this month, dramatically upped our use of use of (and sometimes our frustration with) technology. Those lockdowns also pushed a lot of us to go outside, and virus-safe pastimes like hiking and golf and surfing all gained new enthusiasts. And, of course, working from home became a semi-permanent change for many, with job seekers (and their kids) still asking about it and many businesses still offering it, at least sometimes.

Even some of the goofier things we think of as pandemic-era fads – super long beards, sweatpants at work, elbow handshakes – are still with us.

Here’s a look at how some elements of our lives or professions have been changed, maybe forever, by the pandemic.

Political campaigns

Voting by mail was big in California before the pandemic, and it became even bigger after.

That means voting lasts longer, with ballots coming in several weeks before election days. And that, in turn, means candidates have to reach out to voters earlier, said Derek Humphrey, founder of Overland Strategies, a political consulting firm in Riverside County.

“It’s more common for campaigns to start communicating with voters 10 or 12 weeks prior to the election,” Humphrey said. “In the old days, it was probably more five or six weeks before the election, when we started spending big money talking to voters.”

And “talking” to voters has changed, too.

Mac Zilber, co-founder of the L.A.-based firm J&Z Strategies, adds that face-to-face “get out the vote” efforts once started the weekend before Election Day. Now, with ballots coming in earlier, such efforts start weeks earlier.

Zilber points to another post-pandemic change – the growth of digital political ads. The shift was underway, pre-COVID, and, like mail-in voting, it’s only grown in the years since.

“You suddenly had people in their homes all day, streaming. That’s the trend that has really persisted and lasted beyond COVID – people are getting their content through streaming like YouTube, Roku, Amazon Prime,” Zilber said.

Humphrey pointed to other new realities of post-pandemic campaigns.

Since 2020, it’s been harder to get volunteers to work phone banks or knock on doors; volunteers instead choosing to make their contributions from home. Humphrey said that’s meant less spending on campaign offices, or even forgoing offices altogether – a notion he said was likely “unthinkable” more than a decade ago.

Brian VanRiper, founder of Method Campaigns, a consulting firm in Los Angeles, said post-pandemic voters are less eager to engage with strangers, including chatting with people knocking on their doors or taking calls from pollsters. It’s one reason why, in VanRiper’s view, there are more text message blasts related to politics.

Fresh air

Felicia Wong and her husband, Jason, both worked in hospitals during the pandemic; Felicia as an emergency room psychiatrist for Kaiser, and Jason as a general surgeon at Saddleback Memorial.

So, at work, there was no escaping the pandemic.

At home, in Irvine, there was.

The couple started taking their sons, Alex, now 12 and Brian, now 9, outside. They walked. They biked. There were no violin or swim lessons or sports to run the kids to, no school pickups to juggle, but there was time to hang out.

“It really was a big year of just being present and being outside together with loved ones, in a safe way,” Felicia Wong said.

They weren’t alone, of course. During the pandemic, millions of people were discovering, or rediscovering, nature. Hiking, surfing, biking, camping; all saw huge gains in 2020 and 2021.

Often, the changes stuck. They certainly did for the Wongs.

They started camping, sometimes pitching the tent in the backyard, or exploring nearby trails. They hit the mountains to ski, dodging crowds by tailgating in the parking lot. Instead of hopping on a plane, road trips became the norm.

Wong even started a website, everydayadventurefam.com, to share her family’s adventures. Her motto: “Find the wonder in every day.”

Now, post-pandemic, their lives are busy again; club sports, school, swim lessons have returned. But Wong says the pandemic, as awful as it was in a lot of ways, carries some good memories.

“Our family remembers that year as one of great bonding and connection,” she said. “And a lot of outdoor adventures.”

Health care

Five years after COVID-19 began, the pandemic’s impact on health care remains clear, at least if your cell connection is strong.

Telehealth – seeing a health provider (sometimes, but not always, a physician) over the phone – has morphed from pandemic-era emergency solution into a routine part of health care.

“Before COVID, we had telehealth but it wasn’t a regular part of our schedule. Now, it’s built into our daily schedules, and about 31% of our appointments are done by video or phone,” said Dr. Bradley Jacoby, chief of pediatrics at Kaiser Permanente Riverside County.

“It’s here to stay,” Jacoby added. “We’ve learned what works best for telehealth and what still needs in-person visits.”

He noted it’s convenient for physicians and, often, for patients. And it allows in-person care to focus on ailments that require face-to-face visits, such as ear infections or injuries that might require X-rays.

The rise of telehealth, post-pandemic, even is changing medical training. Jacoby said medical schools now specifically teach students how best to conduct virtual visits with patients.

“It’s included in licensing exams,” he said.

Spirit

For faith leaders, crisis is usually go time.

That certainly was true for Rabbi Reuven Mintz, a leader of Chabad Center for Jewish Life in Newport Beach, during the pandemic.

Mintz said the health crisis and the pandemic it created forced the center’s members to find value in the everyday and in each other. And, he added, that mindset stuck.

“The analogy in Jewish mysticism (is), ‘The greater the olive is squeezed, the better the oils that come out,’” he said. “We come out stronger.”

Still, Mintz said the shutdowns – and the separations they intentionally created – presented an organizational challenge. Chabad leaders had to think of new ways to connect to those who were already members of their community, and to those who were not. The pandemic, he said, prompted Chabad leadership to “reach beyond our walls” in ways they previously would not have done.

“There are thousands of people that were impacted and, as a result, nowadays, are connected to community, to observance, practice, tradition, deepening faith and coming together.”

He noted that many of the programs that began during the pandemic are still going.

“Looking in on the vulnerable, the most elderly living alone, and delivering basic necessities, like food,” he said.

“Not only did they need it (during the pandemic) more than ever, but they continue to need that on a regular basis,” Mintz added. “These programs that had really been born as a result of that have manifested and grown into programs that exist to this very day.”

Online classes, some about spirituality but others about topics such as culture or hobbies, showed how the center could be a place to explore new ideas or share discussion – even to feel less lonely.

During the pandemic, the center also started working with people on mental health. Mintz said Chabad coordinated with counselors who helped people via Zoom and phone, and that the outreach is still going.

For those reasons, and perhaps more, the pandemic crisis became a period of expansion. The Chabad center, Mintz said, has “outgrown” its facility, which is located overlooking Back Bay in Newport Beach. He attributes that primarily to the “seeds that were planted during that time.”

“We’ll never forget the difficulties, the challenges we faced,” he said. “But like every challenge we face, we double down, tap into our power of resilience.”

Home selling

Isabella Ying, a real estate agent at SoCal Group Brokered by eXp Realty, has built her career around the lasting changes to residential real estate that arrived during the pandemic.

Knocking on doors? Passing out home flyers? That’s all pretty 2019.

These days, the Riverside County native meets clients – and finds new ones – via social media.

“Buyers’ consultations that used to happen in person, like at a Starbucks, can now be done over Zoom,” Ying said.

“It makes connecting with clients much easier before we meet in person to show homes.”

It’s not just about convenience. Ying said the trust that’s essential to help people make often-huge financial decisions about buying or selling a home can be built virtually.

“Before, people wanted to meet face-to-face with a realtor. Now, Zoom is the go-to. It’s not just a phone call – it’s become the default way to connect.”

For Ying, the changes aren’t temporary; they’re an everyday part of how she connects with buyers in today’s market.

But it isn’t just the home-selling process that’s different, post-pandemic. The new world – particularly the rise of remote work – means home buyers have new expectations.

“People now want a space devoted to a home office away from bedrooms, so they can take calls without disturbing the kids. That space has become essential.”

College

There’s a lot of data that shows remote schooling was less than excellent for students. National test scores for math and reading fell during the pandemic, and continued to fall after it, with the biggest declines seen among students in districts where computer screens became long-term substitutes for classrooms.

But the data also shows that the biggest losses hit younger students, and that declines lessened for students in high school and older.

It’s partly why the pandemic has reshaped higher education.

Jessica Vierra, an adjunct lecturer in communications classes at Cal State San Bernardino and Norco College, noted that before the pandemic online colleges and universities were considered less prestigious than traditional schools. “It was actually frowned upon to go to a college that was fully remote.”

That changed with COVID. Today, nearly every class Vierra teaches is online.

She isn’t arguing that it’s always better, just more common.

“No matter what you do teaching online, it’s nearly impossible to create that connection because you’re just words on a screen.”

She did say schools are working to provide teachers with more resources for online instruction. “There are a lot of tools now,” she said, pointing to platforms like Canvas. She noted that colleges also are helping teachers learn more about artificial intelligence and to use AI in training to help teachers adjust to the ongoing changes in education.

Students might be ahead of teachers on that front. Vierra said students increasingly rely on AI to complete assignments instead of engaging with the material.

She noted one other post-pandemic shift: attitude. Vierra said grade negotiation – already a big deal before the COVID-19 pandemic – has become even more routine.

“Since COVID, people are more entitled to, ‘Oh, I deserve that A,’ even if they didn’t do the work for it.”