The Arts Through Covid Eyes
I am often described as a super fan of the arts. A bit too excited. Perhaps I gush a little too much or applaud a little too long. As much as I enjoy thinking about the practical things in my life, my brain seems to step aside – to open the door to whatever cultural expression is in front of me. “Come on in. She’s all yours.” Whatever else is going on in my life becomes background.
Yep – I’m a bit odd. But in a happy way.
Last week I was initiated into the Covid club. Because I had been vaccinated and boostered, it wasn’t a worrisome time. I hunkered down for the week – listening to music and watching ‘easy’ movies. I experienced some of the typical Covid brain symptoms. Pills left untouched next to the now-empty water glass. Why did I get out that cutting board? But it took me a couple days to notice another phenomenon.
In Spinal Tap lingo, my normal superfan intensity level went to an ’11.’
On any given day, a few minutes with Charles Aznavour and I relish the bittersweetness of love. But now his songs were new to me again. I was suddenly stunned by the timing – the delays – the pace – the …. (sigh) … the perfection!
I received a lovely thank you note from an old friend, in his own hand, and I – well – could feel the years of connection and appreciation. ‘Touched’ doesn’t come close – but it is in the right direction. And watching favorite love stories left me focusing on the subtlest of gestures that I hadn’t noticed before. They all seemed new. Tender. Sweet.
So, while some might consider Covid brain a short term nuisance, I discovered an arts festival in my living room. Discovery. Feelings. Memories – and appreciation. It was a good thing the box of tissues was never far away.
Of course, as I write this, I might still be under the influence. Or should I say OUT from under the influence? I’m wearing shades because ……