Being a performer there is something very much missed when not able to perform in-person. It really isn’t, at least for me, an ego thing. Not really. It’s the inherent need to share the joy that I have for stories with others. And if an artist does not have an audience, we are only performing for ourselves – not much fun in that!
On Thursday, I drove up the road to an assisted living center to tell stories. The temperature had risen from below freezing to the mid to high 40’s (Fahrenheit, about 7 degrees C). It was a nice day outside. Because the folks there are elderly, staff and visitors have to remain masked, even though the elderly themselves are unmasked. I wore a regular mask getting in.
As people started entering the room, introductions were made, banter began. Some people came over to introduce themselves, some even shook hands with me. The folks chatted with each other, and some sat off a little in their own space. I imagine that if you live with the same people, there are times when not sitting next to someone is a-okay! As I watched this, I played on my bodhran, and I witnessed some people tapping their feet. I swapped out my mask for a new Broadway Relief singer’s mask, which makes me look like a bear, or platypus! The advantage of this mask is that I can breathe and be heard! Anyway! I swapped masks and made sure people could hear me and began.
Seeing their faces move from looking like: “Who is this guy, again? Why is he here?” to being immersed into story did not take long. Some of the more serious people would crack a smile once in a while. Frowns turned upside down! We chatted between the first and second story, and the energy in the room was loser, and when I started the next tale, the energy between us was moving.
This energy movement is hard to realize or feel on a Zoom call or Google meet, Facebook or Google live, or on Skype! Does anyone use Skype still? There is this barrier called the screen and camera which makes it hard, and then there’s the distance, sometimes made more apparent with the delay of responses. There is a disconnect.
Winter is not my busy time; it is a time for reflecting on the previous year, a look at finances, reading stories to increase my repertoire, reading about my craft to better my knowledge and be inspired to try something new of different; a time to reach out to people: it is a time of planning for me. After 22 months of mostly virtual work (80-90 percent of virtual work), getting ready to perform with someone close by, someone less than 20 feet away, in-person was exciting to think about and a little daunting, since my last in-person gig was back in December 2021.
Right there, in the moment of feeling that energy move, to see feelings flow out of the listeners was incredible. I could see their faces, unmasked as they were, smiling, eyes rolling, heads shaking, a slap on the thigh, eyebrows rising, a gasp. All of that happening right there in front of me, but within a story. It doesn’t feed my ego; it fills my heart. For a moment we are all transported to another place that is not, well, we are all transported to another world where good conquers evil, where we can laugh at ourselves, and be real with each other without feeling someone might adamantly disagree with us. Although as I was wrapping up and I asked if they wanted another story, one voice adamantly called out: “No!” Apparently, it was nap time. So, we agreed I would come again.
As the staff assisted some people back to their rooms, or to their next activity, and others ambled away, a small group stayed behind and we talked. We talked about our children, my grandparents, some of our fears, and how stories are really pretty darn cool even when you are not a young child, that these stories hold a meaning, a new meaning for some. We connected as a community of human beings.
I finished packing up my gear and we all left the room to its own quiet. As I passed one of the amblers in the corridor, she stopped me and announced she was a transplant from Texas, and that she had been a cowgirl. I asked if she had brought any of her cowboys with her, and she gave me a smile and a light punch on the arm. The woman who hired me walked me outside and we briefly chatted. I shared some of the comments the small group at the end had shared with me about nap time, and that maybe we could do it again. We stood in the sun, masked still, talking of tales, and we agreed to play again soon, and regularly. As I got into the car, I thought about the stories the cowgirl might share, if we had time to chat the next time I visited!
There are no hallways in the virtual world, there’s no sitting and watching a soft smile grow on someone’s face as they fall into the depth of story, there’s no standing in the sun sharing words with an organizer, watching her hands gesticulate her enthusiasm. I am very much looking forward to being in-person, live, full-time once more.