current
state of mind: hesitant
I've been
getting' used to liars
They sing
me love songs; store-bought words
They make
promises; like politicians
So we
stumble and we disconnect
Over and
over again
~ “Modern
Love” by Matt Nathanson
Greetings and saluations!
At least once a week, I am asked about my love
for opera. I have never studied music and my singing voice leaves much to be
desired. My parents did not bring me to the opera when I was a child. In fact,
my first exposure was courtesy of Bugs Bunny and Elmer Fudd on a Saturday
morning. While Wagner could not have possibly foreseen music being performed by
animated characters, I don’t think his artistic integrity would be offended. It
is entirely possible that he’d enjoy Fudd’s rendition of “Kill Tha Wabbit”.
Opera is for everyone, regardless of
preconceptions. This past weekend I spoke to several groups of 6th
graders and their parents. Most of those present had never been to an opera. I
think I shocked the kids when I made fun of the concept that opera was just for
old people with stodgy ideals. I told the story of bringing my 7 year old
daughter to ‘La Boheme’. Most adults thought I was crazy for thinking that a
young child would appreciate a century-old opera she “wouldn’t possibly understand”.
I had faith in the transcendental power of art. Of course, Puccini didn’t let
me down. Girl Twin was fascinated by
the performance. For almost three full acts she sat up in her seat, alert and
mesmerized. As the third act closed, however, she drifted to sleep. I did not
wake her for the tragic fourth act, as it was already well past her regular
bedtime. When the audience broke into applause at the end of the performance,
my daughter opened her eyes and began to clap as well.
As we were walking to the car, she looked up
at me and took notice that my eyes were red and swollen from crying. Very
concerned, she asked why I was crying. I explained that during the last act, Mimi
had died. She looked thoughtful for a moment before responding with candor, “Well,
you had to know she was going to die. I mean, she was really sick throughout
the whole show.” I smiled, gripped her hand a little tighter, and enjoyed a
mother-daughter moment that would not have been possible without opera.
Thank you, Puccini!
PERSONAL
NOTE: Welcome home, little man!
CONFIDENTIAL
NOTE: I suppose that time will tell. Until then, let it ride.
