'Hamilton' Has Become the Score of My Global Pandemic

Photo by Sudan Ouyang on Unsplash

The pandemic thus far has dealt me one unexpected disappointment: the postponement of Hamilton in Atlanta. 

Live performance is something we often experience as uplifting and renewing. Another balm unavailable to us during the COVID crisis.

In no way am I suggesting that this is a big deal. I have mercifully been spared a variety of painful decisions, tragedies and heartbreaks, but the musical has become a touchstone for me.

 The proverbial opportunity to turn lemons into lemonade appeared when I was able to watch Hamilton, with millions of others, as Disney started streaming the original cast production. It was a remarkable opportunity to see an amazing ensemble and the play itself is simply mesmerizing.

Since my month of streaming had not yet expired, I started listening to it while cleaning my house. 

I'd have to say, and being a clinical psychologist, I’m qualified to say, things started to get a little obsessive. As you might guess, paying someone to clean my house means I really don't like cleaning. Nevertheless, I've lately been looking forward to cleaning because it's become my Hamilton time. 

I sing along, even though I've been told I should stick to my day job. I dance; no one has to tell me to stick to my day job. I'm tempted to bound into rooms at the end of my workday belting out, So what've I missed?, as if I'm Jefferson returning from Paris. 

 

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