Making my way through the pandemic

Doug Smith column: Isolation can be monotonous, but find ways to stretch your mind and try something new. It doesn't have to be learning to sing.

By Doug Smith

I haven’t seen my 96-year old mother since March 9. She is locked down in a nursing home.

Our Sunday lunch with our children and grandchildren has been on hold for four months.

Leaving the house, socializing with friends, dining out, shopping and simply coming in contact with others is high risk for my generation during this harrowing pandemic.

You hear people say it’s like being in prison. I think that’s an overreaction, but overcoming the daily monotony and preventing depression during such confinement is certainly a daunting challenge.

I’ve created my own survival plan — not to discount the gravity of this crisis — but to inject a little creativity, curiosity, humor and much-needed physical exercise into my daily routine. 

I’ll share a few of the things that are working for me and some that aren’t. Along the way, perhaps that little light bulb will go off in your head and you will see a way to steer clear of the coronavirus doldrums.

During my 43-year journalism career I never really had the time to fulfill my dream of learning to sing. The pandemic left me with plenty of time, if not talent, so I wondered whether I could pick up where I left off in a vocal music course I took at Piedmont Community College in the ’70s.

Bad mistake. 

One look at my textbook and long-forgotten notes, and I had my answer.

The memory of why I didn’t finish the class suddenly flashed back. The first three lessons were a breeze. Then came lesson No. 4: Choose a song to sing solo in front of the class to the accompaniment of the instructor’s piano.

I wailed out the first verse of  “What a Friend We Have in Jesus,” finishing 60 seconds ahead of the piano. “See me after class,” the instructor winced.

“Mr. Smith,” he said, “I believe this class is too advanced for you.”

“But sir,” I said, “it’s the beginners class!”

Music, I must admit, won’t be the balm that gets me through the pandemic as I had hoped. The banjo I never learned to play and the electric guitar my dad used in his  rock ‘n roll band remain in storage.

Instead of sulking, I came up with another idea: I persuaded my wife Linda to join me in making a comedic YouTube video of us dancing in formal attire to Patsy Cline’s  “Tennessee Waltz.” No offers yet from the Grand Ole Opry.

Seriously, if you have an interest in music or the performing arts, it’s fun to experiment on YouTube. My son Rob Smith recently posted a hilarious soap opera parody — Winter Ain’t Cold — on his channel.

Most of the time in our empty nest, Linda prefers reading and jigsaw puzzles to fill her down time. I watch too much TV, but I mitigate the sedentary damage by working out on the den floor while watching my favorite shows. My foam back roller, resistance bands, stability ball and weights are there when I need them.

Linda walks early in the morning after breakfast, and I ride my exercise bike in my computer room, where I can watch videos on the TV monitor.

Both of us are benefiting. We’ve lost weight and gained muscle tone while eating self-prepared fresh foods instead of fast food and restaurant meals.

We try not to obsess over the pandemic, but it’s hard not to when we see the overwhelming amount of coverage in the news media every day. Some of our pain never goes away.

We dearly miss spending time with our grandchildren. The older ones drive over and park in the driveway while we observe social distancing and chat with them outside their cars. My son brings over our youngest granddaughters — 11 months, 4 years — and we sit on lawn chairs six feet apart in the front yard.

The scariest thing of all is none of us — not even the experts — know when this will end. Each of us must plot our own course through it.

If you’re reading this, you are assisting me in finding my way. Writing helps me stay alert, connected and aware that I am sharing my thoughts. Instead of worrying about what comes next, I would rather write about what’s happening in my life today. That’s my therapy.

It could help you, too. Remember your happiest times, your favorite vacations, your childhood adventures, your most enduring friendships, your biggest regrets and even your worst misadventures.

You don’t have to be a professional to put your thoughts to writing in a memoir, a diary, a letter or a social media post. 

If you say it, others will hear you. Most importantly, when you read the words you will hear yourself.

Please wear a mask and stay safe.

Doug Smith, a former Observer business columnist, retired in 2009 after more than 40 years at the paper. He lives in south Charlotte with his wife of 51 years, Linda. He can be reached at dougsmith55@gmail.com.

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