There is a saying that it isn't over until the fat lady sings. Something about opera. But I heard an interview with Mel Woods who wrote an article for The Walrus called "The pandemic won't be over until everybody sings." The phrase resonated with me.

Woods' particular longing is for karaoke. For her, karaoke singing is a release, an opportunity to reveal the whole of herself. For her, it is a place where you aren't judged on talent, but people see your conviction and expression, a place where the inhibitions of social norms are set aside. After 14 months of physical distancing and restraints, Woods argues that karaoke will provide just what we need.

Solo performances behind plexiglass barriers will come back when bars can reopen. Music lovers will enjoy sitting at properly spaced tables quietly taking in the voice, the instrumentals. No audience participation though. Karaoke, with projected singing from the stage and audience joining in, with shared microphones and crowded dance floors, will be one of the last things to return.

Woods argues that choir singing draws people together. I know some choirs are doing virtual practices with everyone singing at home on mute--online platforms have a delay. I have heard people say that this is better than nothing, but it is not the same. Choristers are longing to get back together and experience the blending of voices, working together, creating something that can only be done by many.

I heard the interview with Mel Woods about the same time the push for Canada to immediately donate some of our vaccine supply to the Global South resurfaced. Vaccine roll out in Ontario has been rocky, but as of Sunday this week, we have distributed nine million doses. While protection won't be secure until 70% have had a second dose, we are well on the way. There are, however, countries where 1% of people have received one dose.

The World Health Organization reiterates constantly that no country will be safe until the world is safe. At first, that was a reminder that travel between places can bring the virus back to Canada. Now, the warning is more stern: where the virus is active, new variants are arising. The more those variants deviate from the original, the more possible it will be for one of them to be so different that the vaccines we have will not be effective. (I have also heard experts on immunology reassure that it won't be like starting from scratch. Adjusting the vaccines for a variant that is beyond the scope of current vaccines will be more like adjusting the annual flu shot.)

The WHO's point is that it is in the self interest of the Global North to not hog vaccines. It is in our interest to share now.

That is a hard sell. While there are people who hesitate to take the vaccine, appointments that come up on the provincial booking site are snapped up in a hurry.

Last week, the premier of Ontario announced that people in their eighties could book their second shot sooner that sixteen weeks. Hurrying up the full immunity for a fragile population seems like a good idea.

But when appointments opened up from people seventy and over, sixty and over, friends felt guilty. Several said that if younger grocery store workers were eligible, they would have waited. They were able to self-isolate in ways that essential workers could not. They got the shot, because eligibility was still quite limited. Now, eligibility is wide open, but appointments remain limited. Those essential workers are competing for spots with eighty-year-olds looking for a second dose.

I am not sure what the right choice is. In a way, I feel lucky that I got AstraZeneca because with that vaccine, the best immunity comes when the second dose is given at twelve weeks. And no one is looking for a first dose of it.

But how do we balance concern for self and concern for the world in this situation? How do we look after our community and country and the world? As we make specific decisions, it is important to remember the WHO warning that this is one world, and no one is safe until everyone is safe.

Cathy Hird lives on the traditional territory of the Saugeen Ojibway