Five Years After COVID-19 Declaration, Eau Claire Reflects on Pandemic's Lasting Impact

200 people died from COVID-19 in Eau Claire County; many others were hospitalized with the virus during the pandemic and continue to be hospitalized with COVID-19.
People kept walking the road together despite a lot of unknowns
Lieske Giese reflects on how Eau Claire's community sustained itself through the pandemic's most uncertain months.
Mark

When you say people kept walking the road together, what does that actually mean in a place like Eau Claire?

Mimi

It means the essential workers showed up even when we didn't fully understand what we were asking them to do. It means neighbors checked on neighbors. It means institutions like the university had to make impossible decisions in 48 hours and people accepted that because there was no alternative.

Mark

But 200 people died. That's not abstract. How does a community hold that alongside the narrative of resilience?

Mimi

You hold both. The resilience is real—people did show up, did adapt, did survive. But the 200 deaths are also real. They're not a footnote to the story of adaptation. They're woven into it. Resilience doesn't erase loss.

Mark

Why does Giese emphasize maintaining relationships now, five years later, rather than just updating the plans?

Mimi

Because she learned that the plans only work if the relationships are already there. When crisis hits, you don't have time to build trust. You need it already in place. So the real work of preparedness is the unglamorous daily work of keeping those connections alive.

Mark

Do people in Eau Claire think about COVID differently now than they did in 2020?

Mimi

Probably. In 2020, it was apocalyptic—the unknown was everything. Now it's integrated into how we think about risk and public health. It's still there. People are still getting hospitalized. But it's not the center of everything anymore.

Mark

What's the thing that surprised you most about how this community moved through it?

Mimi

That people didn't fracture more than they did. The uncertainty could have driven people apart. Instead, for the most part, they stayed connected. That's the real story.

  • When the pandemic declaration arrived, Eau Claire had days — sometimes hours — to dismantle and rebuild entire systems, from classrooms to hospital wards to grocery store supply chains.
  • Two hundred people in Eau Claire County did not survive, and COVID-19 continues to send patients to hospitals each year, a reminder that the emergency's end did not mean the virus's disappearance.
  • Institutions like UW-Eau Claire were forced into overnight reinvention, discovering both the fragility and unexpected adaptability of structures that had operated the same way for generations.
  • Local health officials are not waiting for the next crisis — they are actively tending preparedness plans and cross-sector partnerships as a continuous practice rather than a contingency measure.
  • The community now carries a shared memory of total disruption survived, and that memory is quietly embedded in hybrid learning infrastructure, remote work protocols, and updated surge capacity plans.

Five years after the World Health Organization declared COVID-19 a pandemic, Eau Claire, Wisconsin pauses to measure the distance between who it was and who it has become. The upheaval of March 2020 — schools closing, hospitals straining, essential workers carrying the weight of a frightened community — claimed 200 lives in Eau Claire County alone and reshaped the rhythms of daily life in ways that have not fully unwound. What emerges from this anniversary is not simply grief or relief, but a quieter recognition: that communities are defined less by the crises they face than by the habits of resilience they build in the aftermath.

Five years after the World Health Organization's pandemic declaration, Eau Claire, Wisconsin is still taking stock of what those years cost and what they changed. For some residents, March 2020 feels like a distant era; for others, the shock remains close. Both feelings carry truth.

The immediate upheaval spared almost no one. Schools moved online overnight. Businesses faced existential uncertainty. Hospitals strained under the weight of a disease no one fully understood. Essential workers — healthcare staff, teachers, grocery clerks — kept showing up when the community needed them most, often without recognition and always without a clear map of what came next.

At UW-Eau Claire, the pivot was visceral. Within two days of a chancellor's reassurance that campus life would continue, everyone was sent home. Associate Vice Chancellor Mary Hoffman recalls the whiplash — but also the unexpected discovery that the forced shift accelerated the university's approach to online learning in ways that might have taken years otherwise. Some students thrived; others struggled. The institution learned something durable about itself.

The human cost was not abstract. Two hundred people in Eau Claire County died from COVID-19. Many more were hospitalized, and the virus continues to circulate and hospitalize patients each year alongside other seasonal respiratory illnesses.

What distinguishes Eau Claire's response five years on is the refusal to treat preparedness as a dormant contingency. Health Department Director Lieske Giese and her team have updated pandemic response plans and maintained active partnerships across healthcare, education, and business — tending those relationships continuously rather than waiting for the next emergency to dust them off. Schools now have hybrid learning built into their infrastructure. Businesses have remote work protocols. Health systems have surge capacity plans. The community has not returned to what it was before. It has moved forward carrying what it learned.

Five years have passed since the World Health Organization formally named the disease a pandemic, and in Eau Claire, Wisconsin, people are still reckoning with what those five years meant. Some residents say March 2020 feels like a lifetime ago. Others say it feels like yesterday. The truth is probably somewhere in between—close enough to remember the shock, far enough away to see the shape of what changed.

When the declaration came down, almost no one escaped the immediate upheaval. Schools shuttered their doors and moved classes online. Businesses scrambled to figure out how to operate, or whether they could operate at all. Hospitals filled beyond capacity. Healthcare workers, teachers, essential workers in grocery stores and warehouses—people whose names we never learned—kept showing up because the community needed them to. The uncertainty was total. Nobody knew how long it would last or what the rules would be tomorrow.

At UW-Eau Claire, the pivot happened in real time. One day, the chancellor assured the campus that precautions would be taken but operations would continue normally. Two days later, he called another meeting. Everyone was going home. Classes would move online. Mary Hoffman, the Associate Vice Chancellor for Academic Affairs, remembers the whiplash. She also remembers something else: the shift forced the university to accelerate its approach to online learning in ways that might not have happened otherwise. Some students thrived in that new environment. Others struggled. But the institution learned something about itself.

The broader picture was one of collective adaptation under duress. Lieske Giese, Director of the Eau Claire City-County Health Department, watched her staff and the community navigate unknowns that seemed to multiply daily. When she reflects on those years now, what stands out is not the crisis itself but the fact that people kept moving forward together, kept showing up for each other, even when the path ahead was invisible.

The cost was real and measurable. Two hundred people in Eau Claire County died from COVID-19. Many more were hospitalized. The virus did not disappear when the emergency declarations ended. People continue to be hospitalized with COVID-19 each year, alongside other respiratory illnesses that cycle through the population seasonally.

Five years later, the community is not simply waiting for the next crisis. Giese and her department have updated their pandemic response plans based on what they learned. They maintain relationships with partners across healthcare, education, and business—not as a contingency measure, but as an ongoing practice. The lesson seems to be that preparedness is not something you dust off when disaster strikes. It is something you tend to continuously, like a garden, so that when the next storm comes, the ground is already strong.

The new normal is not a return to the old one. It is a version of life that has absorbed the pandemic's lessons and moved forward carrying them. Schools have hybrid learning capabilities built into their infrastructure now. Businesses have remote work protocols. Health systems have surge capacity plans. And people in Eau Claire have a shared memory of what it looks like when everything changes at once, and how communities survive it.

We had a meeting one day and the chancellor said 'We're going to take the health precautions, but it's business as usual.' Two days later, the chancellor said 'We're going to send everybody home for an extended spring break and then we're going to be online for a while.'
— Mary Hoffman, Associate Vice Chancellor for Academic Affairs at UW-Eau Claire
I am just so thankful that people kept walking the road together in Eau Claire despite a lot of unknowns.
— Lieske Giese, Director of the Eau Claire City-County Health Department
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