I sing therefore I exist
By Itane Vero
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“No one will ever know me. No one will ever recall that I existed. No one will remember my face, my voice, my words, my ideas. “
I hear him grumbling as he moves nimbly around the room in his manual wheelchair. For a moment I am about to argue with him. But I keep my mouth shut. I know this mood of Nic. I call it his doom and gloom periods. They do not last that long. A week at most. And why should I fight with him now when we are about to go to a concert? Now we are about to have a jolly good evening.
The musical performance is a birthday present. We are going to a performance by Nic's favorite singer. Something in the spirit of Frank Sinatra. A fusion of jazz and classical music. But very melodious, very poignant. Nic plays and sings the music so often when I come over that I have even grown to love it as well.
So, it is inevitable that in the car to the theater we are loudly belting out the songs that are blaring through the car speaker. My ears hurt. Already. The wheelchair is neatly folded in the back of the car. Nic is sitting next to me. When necessary, he can walk a few meters with great pain. Provided that someone is assisting him.
Three years ago, Nic was still a very sporty and adventurous teenager. He played football, tennis, basketball, squash, rugby and went to the countryside in the summer to climb and mountain bike. In the winter he skied with family and friends. It happened during such a short holiday. A very unfortunate fall off the slopes.
At first nothing seemed wrong. But further examination at the local hospital revealed that he had broken his back. A spinal cord injury. The prognosis was clear but depressing. The doctors did not give him a chance. Nic should be cared for like a greenhouse plant during the rest of his life. However, after much therapy and endless perseverance, he manages to walk a few steps. For the rest he has to rely on assistance and a wheelchair. However, he certainly did not become a greenhouse plant in a dark, murky room.
Parking the car is not difficult. There is a enough space underneath the theater. But the search for our places seems to be going less smoothly and fortunate. We have special tickets. To sit in a distinct place. Suitable for wheelchair users like Nic. But no one from the organization seems to know where this spot is. After an hour of searching, we panic. Do the places even exist?
When we finally find our spot, we appear to be sitting close to the backing band and the Singer. To our right is the frenzied crowd. Right in front of us is the stage with the tuned instruments, the nervous musicians. Everything is happening just before our eyes.
When the Singer finally appears, there is a deafening noise of cheering and screaming. A hurricane of raw emotions and wild desires. The expectations are high. Then something strange happens. The music falls silent. The Singer stares silently at the fired-up audience. It takes a while before the visitors realize that there is something going on. People look at each other in amazement. What is happening? Why doesn't the Singer start?
After five minutes the Singer begins to speak. Resolute, calm.
“This is a decision that I have thought about for a long time. I quit singing. I'm quitting performing. I stop writing songs. I am quitting because I can't do it anymore. Singing, performing, writing. Not in this world that is on the brink of destruction. The devastating climate crisis, the senseless wars, the power of blind money. And my only contribution to this disaster is to sing lovely songs?”
The visitors look around. Dazed and despondent. But they do not have long to process the shock. Nic sees his opportunity. He cleverly avoids the guards and grabs the microphone. And starts to sing loudly, out of tune but extremely enthusiastically. The musicians hesitate for a moment but follow Nic and start playing. Not much later the audience is singing and cheering as if there had never been a Singer. Well, the climate may change, wars are raging, there are people who earn a lot of money.
But why wouldn't you want to sing the most beautiful songs every now and then?
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Comments
He did it his way. You did it
He did it his way. You did it your way. Brilliantly done.
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With all the saddness in the
With all the saddness in the world we need music more than ever. It not only brings people together, but is a special gift to be offered and shared, which is what you've achieved here in this piece of writing.
Brillieant.
Jenny.
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What a heartwarming story -
What a heartwarming story - thank you Itane. I'm glad most musicians don't feel the same way. Their contribution to the world is just as important as anyone's
Could you please confirm the pic you've used is copyright free?
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