COVID-19 Closures: Olivia Wheeler (Southeast Missouri State University)

The COVID-19 pandemic continues change the world as we know it. As closures and performance cancellations have put actors out of school and work, I’ve been reaching out to the artists affected. Here are their stories.

COVID-19. The thought on most literally every person’s mind, heart, tongue. When you Google “COVID-19,” the first result presents a firetruck red banner beneath the search box with the cautionary words “SOS Alert” and additional resources for information, most catching perhaps being the world map of affected areas highlighted in bulging red bubbles. With not only these results, but every news article, conversation, and thought buoyed by COVID, how do we not talk about the coronavirus?

As an undergraduate freshman, my second semester of college has not necessarily gone as I expected—or as I could foresee in any considerable measure. Much like other college and university students, I have been sent home with hopes of “flattening the curve,” a proactive idea that I respectfully heed. However, unlike other college and university students, save for a certain group of student performing artists, I have been sent home amidst rehearsals for my first main stage production, a show I worked towards being a part of for the past year. You could arguably say that this show was equivalent to the coronavirus in terms of how much space it took—and continues to take—in the hearts and minds of its audiences and creators alike. The Wolves by Sarah DeLappe is an all-female cast of teenage soccer players that has become ever-popular among college theater programs, and it is no wonder why: The Wolves weaves introspective and external questions that ultimately allows its consumers to reap what they want—or perhaps what they need—from its indoor turf field.

During the past week, I have felt extremely guilty and selfish because I was upset about the idea of not putting on this production; later, I began to feel silly because I knew I was blessed to have had the experiences with the cast and production team that I did. And though I cannot personally understand the experience of being in contact with the coronavirus and how this disease must truly devastate families and communities, I realize that my feelings about this situation are valid. In the same way The Wolves intertwines discussion of the Khmer Rouge dictatorship and using pads versus tampons, I know that my feelings about the coronavirus matter just as much as my feelings about being able to act in my college’s production of a play about indoor soccer in southeast Missouri matter. Recently, an achy, terrifying feeling has begun to chip away at me, a feeling that my worries and thoughts do not matter because I am “just” an artist, because I am “just” a theatre major. What puts me at peace, however, is what I glean from The Wolves: every person’s story matters, no matter the weight, the heaviness, or the depth it carries—or lack thereof. Do not think yourself any less because you are an artist in a time of crisis.

In a seemingly increasing external and internal darkness comes the light: with every email, with every group chat message sent between the distance our cast and production team has had to establish, our team bores a single reassurance into each other's minds: this show will go on. And we believe each other. We believe this because art is important. We believe this because our show is important. We believe this because we are important.

Our cast has no idea what the outcome of this situation will be. We are simply assured the show will go on at the end of this semester. This story is important and this is the hope that we need right now. And through this hope, our cast and team has banded together stronger than ever. We have a goal and we know what work we need to do, but what is most paramount is that we have each other. The Wolves is an ensemble show. That means no one person is more important, and that means every person is important.

In this same way, life is an ensemble.

So, I will continue to run my lines, I will rehearse my blocking, and yes, I will use Schoolhouse Rock’s “The Preamble” as my hand-washing song. And until I see my fellow wolves again, I will remember a quote from The Jungle Book, “The strength of the pack is the wolf, and the strength of the wolf is the pack.” We need each other as we need ourselves.

After all, we are the wolves.

Olivia Wheeler is a Chicago native currently studying Musical Theatre at Southeast Missouri State University in Cape Girardeau. She has recently been seen in productions of Anything Goes and Tony ‘n Tina’s Wedding. She enjoys reading (and optimistically writing!) the latest masterpieces, exercising, and exploring the many antique shops of southeast MO.

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