September seems like a lifetime ago. September of 2019 is when I vowed to
re-activate my blog and start posting again on a regular basis. I kept that up for two months. Then came the holidays -Thanksgiving,
Christmas and a New Year’s Eve wedding. Then,
in mid-January my wife had hip replacement surgery. For the next many weeks, I was
her nurse, as well as responsible for preparing our meals and for any housework
that couldn’t await her recovery.
Then just when things were beginning to return to
normal, a worldwide pandemic occurs. To reword
a catchphrase from an old Monty Python sketch, “Nobody expects the corona virus
pandemic!” As a result, we’ve been
instructed to “stay at home.”
Even if we didn’t want to stay home, where else could
we go? Stores are closed. Restaurants are limited to providing take-out
or delivery. Museums, art galleries, theaters,
sporting events are closed, postponed or cancelled. Even parks and hiking trails are off-limits.
I’m not complaining, you understand. I believe the doctors and epidemiologists who
tell us we must practice “social distancing” in order to slow the spread of the
virus. The magnitude of this problem is
brought home almost constantly as my wife and I sit in front of the television
watching 24-hour news channels that regularly update infection numbers and
death counts.
If fear of the sickness is not enough, we also need to
fear the destruction of our savings as the engine that drives our economy is
switched off. The stock market is in
free-fall. I’ve been afraid to even peek
at my 401(k)’s balance. The news
channels tend to show the markets losses in the same frame as the numbers of
the sick and dying. We’re faced with
depression stacked on top of depression, leading to fear of another Great
Depression.
With this backdrop, some think this is a great time
for writers and other artists. I read an
article
in the March 26th issue of The New York Times, by Ian
Wheeler, the co-founder of Partisan Records and Talkhouse. He writes, “There’s an expectation that,
because artists are stuck at home, they will create amazing things.” But Mr. Wheeler goes on to point out that
these weeks of confinement have been “a living nightmare,” as we worry about
our community, our state and our nation, watching the numbers of the afflicted
go up while the numbers reflecting the state of our economy go down.
This is not a recipe for inspiration. It’s no surprise that I have experienced
writer’s block while taking my temperature several times a day and worrying
every time my wife or I cough or sneeze.
Wheeler concludes his article by saying:
There’s also a human
element that dispels the “tragedy = great art” fallacy. As I write this, I’m
getting worrisome texts and emails from friends, colleagues and loved ones. I’m
pausing to look at Twitter every few minutes. I’m bombarded by news alerts,
each more terrible than the previous. The notion that creativity can flourish
in these circumstances is absurd.
Wheeler advises that we should not feel pressured “to
make the next great work of art during this time.” That lets me off the hook for now – perhaps till
some future September.
