Hundreds of Precious Connections
When the coronavirus forced us into isolation seven months ago, I was concerned about long stretches of boredom. But what made me even more anxious was the likelihood of suffering total separation from music, theatre, and the literary world I participate in. I needn’t have worried.
Through spring and summer, and even now into autumn, invitations to online operas and plays, lectures and concerts, museum exhibits, and literary events pour into my email inbox. On top of that I receive essays, poetry, and stories from my favorite literary magazines, newsletters from book review publications and a long list of writing workshops and get-togethers. I would much rather be out in the world, in the concert hall or theatre or bookstore, but I could never have enjoyed in person a fraction of what I have seen and heard at home, sitting in front of my computer.
Over the summer I watched a documentary about composer Aaron Copland; attended at least a dozen readings, some by friends with new books whose book tours were wiped out because of the pandemic; lost myself in a New York Philharmonic staged performance of “Carousel” and a broadcast of “Thais” from the Metropolitan Opera. I participated in several writing workshops and enjoyed curator videos from the Metropolitan Museum of Art.
This week I “went” to the Art Institute of Chicago for a Monet lecture by one of my graduate school professors. That evening I tuned into a release party for the CD my choir recorded last year. I have no worries about boredom. I have enough events stored up in my inbox to last me for years, not that I want this isolation to last anywhere near that long.
Each new invitation promises a precious connection to the world I can’t be in. I have kept them all. Today, I have 116 events I can “attend” and 162 things to read. Their value extends beyond having anything I might be in the mood for. Together they help give me security and assure me that the world of the arts isn’t ready to give up and that I can still be part of that creative force.