QUARANTINE LIFE: SINGING

When the lockdown was implemented last year, all music related plans were cancelled. 

I devoured all of the information I could about the safety of singing in enclosed spaces, and learned that one of the things I loved to do could be a detriment to myself and others. That was all I needed to know, and the pivot to virtual singing just made sense. 

Leaving home to sing in public morphed from fun and enjoyable, to a life or death proposition that demanded serious consideration, hazard pay, and a hazmat suit.

People still wanted music, but it seemed that virtual live music wasn’t perceived as valuable at first. It was viewed as simple, and requiring less effort. Some event planners acted as if they were doing singers and musicians a favor by asking them to perform on their platforms for free— as if you needed a singing fix, or were bored and unable to do anything else. 

Has anyone noticed that virtual ANYTHING requires more work, and for some, a new skills set? Creatives had to learn how to be their own sound engineers, stylists, editors, lighting technicians, and Zoom experts. Those who scrambled and invested in making musical presentations exemplary are to be commended.

Every time there was an article or report about sickness spreading through choirs, or deaths as a result of defiant people who flaunted their super spreader events, I’d dig some more. Everything I read determined that singing in public was a pandemic no-no. 

I couldn’t even look at 2020 social media posts of people singing in enclosed spaces, and hid them all as soon as they popped up on my timeline. It just seemed so stupid and irresponsible based on the research and recommendations, but I understood that everyone was going to deal with quarantine life in their own way. Some people needed to continue their routines. They needed to gather, under the guise of showing how unbothered they were, how powerful God is, how great their faith was, or how superior their opinions and remedies were to some pesky little virus. COVID-19 was considered a serpent to be trampled underfoot; a temporary nuisance that would soon disappear. It was minimized as flu-like and harmless. People found ways to modify, excuse, and justify their activities until, of course, they, or someone in their circle became ill, or died. Prominent leaders died. Social media sites became obituary pages. Then the bold ones got quiet, apologetic, defensive, or, out of shame, hid their experience with COVID-19 altogether.

In all of the years I’ve been singing, each request or invitation —compensated or otherwise—has been an honor. No one ever has to ask you to do anything, or appreciate what you do. No one has to include you in important events, but if and when they do, your wisdom and ability supersede obligation, or even desire. These days, invitations are met with apprehension.

I’m grateful for the singing opportunities I’ve had. If I never board a plane again, I can honestly say that singing afforded me the chance to visit most of the places I’d dreamed of. I’ve come to terms with the reality, however, that other times, over the years, I was asked to sing because people wanted something for little or nothing. I’m aware I’ve often been the go-to girl because the preferred singer was too expensive, unavailable, or too difficult. When you just like to sing,  “Can you sing it like the record?” happens a lot— until you learn better, know your worth, and value your time. This pandemic has provided lots of time to assess many things.

Choosing to decline invitations to sing, or not attend gatherings during the pandemic hasn’t always been easy. I’ve lost an uncle, a neighbor, a former coworker, people who were like family, and many people I admired. These days, showing that you care has often meant staying at home. Reasonable people understand. What’s disappointing, though, is how offended, mad, and shocked people get when you decline their invitations to do things that are simply unsafe. You’re considered silly, faithless, sheepish, fearful, weak, selfish, cowardly...

Sometimes you just have to recite “Sticks and stones...” 

It’s not personal when invitations are declined. We’re still in a global pandemic. It’s amazing that you’d even have to say that. This is hardly the time to test friendships or relationships. Many are merely on pause, but expecting people to go against their better judgment as new variants of Covid crisscross America, is a good way to sever them.

Some people really talk as if they can control the people and circumstances under which they expect you to risk your health. Covid doesn’t know how to count whether a gathering is over or under the designated number of attendees. It DOES know who’s asymptomatic, who doesn’t want to, or know how to wear a mask, or whose hygiene practices are lax. It DOES know how to take advantage of an inadequate ventilation system, and how to ride and disperse the abundant, projectile droplets produced by singing.

The worldwide and national death toll is staggering. Images from places like India are heartbreaking. People STILL aren’t taking this seriously, and relaxed guidelines are giving so many a false sense of security. The recent stampede in Israel is a prime example. 

What’s mind boggling is being criticized, talked about, and getting lots of shade for your choice to exercise caution about your activities, as if COVID-19 is something YOU made up:

“Oh, I asked her, but she said no.” 

“Oh, she’s too scared to come out.” 

“I can’t believe she didn’t even show up.”

“I thought she was your friend?”

“Oh, she’s not singing anymore”. 

No. She’s not singing NOW. 

Do I miss singing? Of course. Am I desperate to do it in enclosed spaces surrounded by people who can’t even agree on the most basic preventive measures to flatten the curve? Heck no. 

I don’t need any more “exposure”, particularly not now. Many singers are already recovering from years of simultaneous frostbite and sunburn (and empty pockets). No need to add a bout with coronavirus to the resume.

It’s fascinating how one difficult, but necessary “no” erases all of the pre-pandemic times when you gave an enthusiastic “yes”.  Some people are mourning their pre-pandemic ability to use, control, cheat, shortchange, and volunteer the services of others, and are frustrated because not everyone is eager to see what life on a ventilator is like. Irresponsibility always wants company. 

I simply can’t care how nice or fire the event was, how much big fun was had, who all was there, or what a great opportunity it could have been. I can’t worry about what pandemic bullies think. Until Miss ‘Rona takes her leave, I’ll forgo the gatherings, and reserve my indoor singing for the shower, or the next virtual event.