2020-11-30
One can dream, yes?
OK, close your eyes and pretend for a second. It is a hot, sunny day in mid-summer 2021. You are sitting in the local pharmacy or urgent care, and the receptionist calls your name. "Mr. Murphy, you are next". You rise, thank the receptionist, are waved into the correct room. The nurse or doctor smiles and says, "How are you today?" and you exchange pleasantries for a moment until they ask you to roll up a sleeve. A quick pinch in your upper arm, and it is done. You thank the medical folks and make your way home.
And that's that. You have been vaccinated against the coronavirus. You have carefully followed the progress of vaccine distribution since last Christmas... monitored the glitches that came up in its roll out and distribution... logged the corrections to any problems that have arisen due to its newness... and finally your day has arrived and you are vaccinated.
So what do you do first? Take a walk down main street unmasked for the first time in more than a year? Visit a loved one whom you have not hugged in an eternity? Gather your gear to go to work in the flesh for the first time in many, many months? Or just sit quietly and feel the waves of emotion push you around as you realize you may be finally delivered from this "house arrest" after a year and a half?
Everyone will have their own moment. Each of us will probably never forget the moment when we received the green light to "go back" to how humans carried themselves before mid-March 2020. I am sure some will be hugely effusive and we will all know how they feel; others will quietly shift gears and slip into the new reality without much fuss. Some of us may not even choose the protection of the vaccine.
And it is this new reality that preoccupies me nowadays, even though we are many months away from medical relief from this scourge. I cannot help, on this rainy, dark, November day, but think of the losses I have seen COVID-19 inflict on all our lives. I was 48 hours away from helping the local high school drama kids put up what appeared to be a knockout musical, a hugely fun and engaging process that we were all enjoying enormously. It was my introduction to most of these kids, and I was deeply appreciative of their receptivity and politeness to me, a stranger. I lost a third of my private students within a couple of weeks; families either were not interested in trying to continue virtually or perhaps too fearful for their household budgets in the immediate future. A sacred music program that my brother-in-law and I had build over 20 years into a busy, varied collection of church members who could do everything from Palestrina to Michael W. Smith stopped dead in its tracks. Singing is like breathing to Methodists; if you can't sing, you have lost a major means to give praise, and 4/5 of what we did involved the human voice. A unique arts program whose 50th anniversary we celebrated in 2019 failed to meet for the first summer ever this summer of 2020. It is a program that is central to the happiness of our family and has had an enormous impact on our careers and our outlook on life. Shut down.
Now those of you who have lost a loved one or watched a friend be crippled by this virus are probably offended by my sharing a handful of musical impacts on me and my family. I immediately defer to the seriousness of your loss; the arts are important, but certainly not as important as human life. I understand that perfectly and you have my deepest sympathy. Moreover, all I have to lament is being cooped up for almost a year except for church service Sunday mornings; the first responders and medical professionals who are utterly exhausted right now and the many, many less privileged folks who have had to stay out in the community despite the dangers of infection are the ones who should be voicing their deep frustrations.
I do wonder, however, where this will take us all next year. I have observed first hand the pain that family and friends have suffered from this isolation. It is wholly unnatural for human beings not to get together and do stuff. It is who we are, it is how we have evolved to create the complex world we know. Moving human existence into the virtual realm is not a substitute for the physical presence we all crave. It just isn't. So this is the last point I will share today: when you get your shot, when you feel that it is safe to emerge from isolation and head out into society again, please connect to your networks of family, friends and activities as soon as you can. Never, ever take for granted going forward the blessing of presence; if you have had a tough day at work, and you are not sure you can handle the choir rehearsal, take a breath, grab a bite, and go to rehearsal. Do you now understand how precious that time together is? If you have had a stressful week, and you are thinking of cancelling your music lesson, your yoga class, your life drawing group... take a breath, rest a bit, and go do it. Teachers will never fail to appreciate the physical presence of their students ever again. Support your dance groups, your vocal ensembles, your chamber orchestras, your symphonies. (This is the first year since the early 1980's I have not held a subscription seat at the Boston Symphony Orchestra.) Once it becomes safe again for us to connect as human beings, let us remember that physical presence is essential. It is more important than profit, power, or mindless, passive entertainment. Let us get back into connection with people who can teach us and give us wisdom about who we are.
If you have more questions about this topic, don't hesitate to contact me and we can chat.K
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