That Tall Blonde at the Callback — Long Time, No See; Fellow Artists
Hi there, like many of you I fell off the face of the earth this year. It’s hard to write about your passion/industry when everything associated with it comes to an abrupt halt. And frankly, other things in my life have pushed their way to the front of the line in terms of my bandwidth and focus this year. 2020 was truly a year none of us expected.
I started 2020 with an unexpected health challenge. I had a kidney stone in late January, and the bugger just wouldn’t pass on its own. In March, I had surgery to remove it. Between myself and aging parents, I’ve made more trips this year to the ER, surgery centers, urgent care, imaging centers, doctor’s offices, etc. than I ever have in my life. Luckily, none of it was COVID-related, but the ugly specter of COVID hung over each visit. Like many of you, I’m so grateful for good health for myself and my friends and family right now. We take it for granted, but there is nothing more important.
Also consuming extra time was kids at home going to school on Zoom, and navigating working from home (both my husband and myself). So grateful and privileged that it was an option for us to all hunker down in one place and not have to go to an office/workplace/campus. And so happy to have good jobs in this craziest of times (I know those of you who make their living in arts do not have that luxury). Being forced to enjoy more time with my kids and husband was also a GREAT thing! But, yes, it’s a lot of work, too. And we discovered we were bursting at the seams with all four of us at home 24/7 in our 1900 square foot house (not small, but not huge either). And the possibility that one or more of our parents was likely to to move in with us at some point in the future was suddenly very real. If you had told me (even in April or May) that I would decide to sell our beloved home of 17 years and MOVE in a PANDEMIC I would have called you crazy. But that’s what I did.
After one of those trips to urgent care in the early summer, I realized, maybe I should look at a bigger house in my town? Just see what things are selling for. And there it was. A quirky home on a little hill above downtown with storage and square footage, less than 10 minutes away from our current home. We didn’t really shop around. We only set foot in ONE house, masked up with first the seller’s realtor, and then later our own. The place needed new retaining walls to keep it on the hill long-term, scaring away much of the competition in a city where houses don’t usually stay on the market longer than a weekend. This one stayed on over a month, just long enough for us to scramble to get financing in place. We put in an offer, and we bought it.
Now a bunch of new challenges — selling our current home, moving, and planning for the work the new home needed. We had to finish those renovation projects that had languished over the years in our current home, and the home inspection found new problems that we’d have to remedy quickly if we wanted top dollar. My life was now also consumed with managing the work being done. It’s been that way since July, and we still haven’t kicked off the renovations here in the new home. It will continue to consume much of my bandwidth for the next few years, I anticipate.
So, since my life currently consists primarily of signing Docusign contracts, choosing tile, grocery/necessities shopping for myself and parents, yelling down the hall to see if the kids got on their Zoom calls okay, and doom scrolling the daily news, I’ve asked myself a question a few times that I’m suspecting you are asking, too. When you think back to the days when your calendar was full of rehearsals and opening nights, I’m suspecting you might think, “Am I still an artist? Is this still a major piece of my identity, or is it gone never to return?”
Maybe, like me, you started off the pandemic with virtual readings and online cabarets, but are finding it difficult to stay connected and engaged in the work. Maybe, like me, you are finding life is so busy and you are so anxious/distracted/otherwise occupied that even if restrictions were lifted tomorrow and you could go to 20 new auditions, you might not be able to. It’s sad, but this break does not have to be forever. Maybe, like me, you feel a huge void in your life that performing fills that nothing else does. If that’s the case, then you WILL return. It may take a while, and the landscape of our industry will look vastly different, but it WILL return. I took a 9-year break before, and I can do it again. And if you are in the camp that thinks, “maybe I’m done with performing for good”, that’s okay, too. Maybe it’s forever, maybe it’s not. That’s the beauty of life — the only constant is change, and sometimes things work out differently than you plan in weird and wonderful ways.
But YOU, my fellow artists, are now, and always will be, artists. It’s still you, and that muscle memory of what it feels like to be in front of a live audience will all come flooding back to us when it’s our turn and our time, and it will be glorious. Until then, stay safe, wear your mask, get your vaccine when you can, and I hope to see you soon and give you a very long hug.
