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Others are biting the bullet and having virtual weddings over Zoom.īut for Ott to make money, she doesn’t really see a workaround. Some may move forward with much smaller ceremonies and opt to hire high-level videographers to document the event. There are alternatives out there for couples who don’t want to put off their wedding dates any longer.

Yet there’s an obvious question that occupies her thoughts from one day to the next: Will the coronavirus numbers dwindle enough to allow weddings to take place later this year? Ott has managed to stay centered while quarantined by reaching out to friends and family she normally wouldn’t have as much time to keep in touch with - and by devoting more time to hiking and running to relieve stress. Similarly, Ott’s creditors have been understanding as she pays what she can for now. It helps that her landlord, who charges $900 a month, vowed not to evict any tenants, even once residential landlords in Wisconsin are legally able to do so. Now that she has some money coming in from unemployment insurance, Ott feels more breathing room than before. Earlier this month, she finally started receiving a little more than $750 per week. Ott feels fortunate that her sister and brother-in-law lent her money - and her federal stimulus payment was helpful - but the wait of more than two months after filing for unemployment was agonizing. Without any income, it was difficult to pay her rent and bills. Her money from last year’s weddings carried her through to about mid-March, then things started to get dire and her bank accounts briefly went into the red. Her business relies mostly on word of mouth, and she was coming off her best-earning year in 2019, when she made between $55,000 and $60,000. Everything kind of disappeared all at once,” said Ott, who has been self-employed for eight years.

“Since I’m so used to doing what I do every year, I was at a loss for what to do at first. Nine of the 10 weddings she was booked to shoot in 2020 have been either pushed to much later this year - with a fervent, almost desperate hope that there won’t be a second wave of coronavirus before then - or to 2021. That’s the reality for Wendy Ott, a 45-year-old photographer who lives in suburban Milwaukee. Those cancellations and postponements are tough not only for the couples but also for those who would normally work to make those days special. They’ve worked in a variety of industries, including vocational training, car service and arts and entertainment, which is reliant on ticket sales and live audiences.īut for all the life changes occurring as a result of COVID-19, there have been countless milestones that couldn’t take place because of the pandemic, too: Weddings are a hallmark of the late spring, summer and early fall, but the virus put a stop to such gatherings. This is their story, one of the greatest never told.In recent weeks, we’ve shared a number of stories about people affected by the economic fallout from the novel coronavirus. However, when the veterans came home, they decided they couldn’t abide by this treatment, and took the fight right to the local government. Beatings, extortion and coercion were everyday occurrences. When America entered WW2, 10% of the county’s population signed up to go fight, and in their absence, the local government was taken over by the violent thugs of the Crump machine. McMinn County, the location of Athens, had always been fiercely independent when it came to politics.

It took place in August 1946, almost a year after V-J Day, when Tennessee WW2 veterans came home to find their town under the boot of a powerful political machine ran by Edwin Hull Crump in Memphis, whose tentacles spread all throughout the state.

On this episode of The Statist Quo, Matt and Nick are joined by our friend Luke from the Biting the Bullet podcast, to help us tell one of the lesser known (but most incredible) stories of resistance to government tyranny, that has come to be called the Battle of Athens.