Ending the Year on a High Note

Well, a powerhouse high G at any event.  (Or maybe this could mean the C sharp that I have been singing consistently for the first time in my life.)

My Sunday solo "O Magnum Mysterium" went really well.  It was the first time in years that I have sung a "big" piece in church.  This new Director of Music has much more eclectic tastes in singing and in fact when we rehearsed the piece I made a joke to the effect that the choir director (who is still the choir director but who no longer schedules solos) would have shot me through the head if he had heard me blast the windows out with the climactic top G, and the new Director said that no, he considered that sort of sound appropriate for a solo if it was marked forte.  (He also said once that even in choral singing, if the note is above the staff, sopranos have a "free pass" to sing as loud as we need to to make the note sound good.)

Best of all was that when I sang that piece yesterday I got a lot of compliments including someone telling me it was "awesome".

Maybe I will try "I Know that My Redeemer Liveth" again near Easter?  I hadn't planned to sing at all in April because that's when I will be rehearsing Carmen, but I might be able to squeeze it in right after Easter if that is not a choir Sunday.  Or I may get to sing another solo bit on Good Friday.  And if not I can sing at the noon service the way I did last year.  With all the freedom I've been given maybe I can try "Liber Scriptus".

So now it's back to the "Seguidilla".  My upper register didn't sound all that great in today's practice, on the other hand I did a lot of singing Christmas Eve (just choral singing and caroling), and then this solo yesterday.

Wednesday I have a lesson.

This year I have not made New Year's resolutions.  It seems that usually at some point in the year (usually between July - my birthday month - and September, which feels like the New Year to me) something big happens that leads me to reevaluate where I'm going and what I need to do differently.  This year it was the upset over my birthday.  Two years ago it was upset over all the snark in the blogosphere over my singing the "Habanera" in the bookstore.

Overall this has been a good year for me.  I have been singing better and better, achieving a level of technical proficiency that has surprised me.  I have discovered I like helping children with their homework.  I was mentioned in an article in Classical Singer.  Actually in two articles if you include the anonymous mention of my singing in the bookstore, which wasn't a putdown, really. And hey!  It was enough of a "thing" to keep being mentioned over and over.  So chutzpah pays.  Howevermuch talent, ability, or credentials you do or don't have.

Aria da Capo?

A few days ago, I ran into a man who used to sing in the choir at my old UU church.  The minister with whom I had so much discord has been gone for some time  I had run into this man before, and he had invited me to come back and "see what was going on" but I declined.  Theologically I still consider myself a Unitarian, but they don't know how to "do" theater the way the high church Protestants do.  That's it in a nutshell.  And when it comes to social justice organizing, the Lutheran church does as much, if not more, than my old UU church, so all bases are covered.  So, OK, I hear things I know are not "true", but hey! myths and fairy tales are lovely, and I am careful what I say and do.  I will sing anything, I will wear anything.  I don't take communion and don't speak prayers that begin with the words "I believe" because hey!  that's not "generic mezzo-soprano church soloist" singing, that's me Babydramatic with her Jewish maternal relatives behind her saying, "I believe".  So I pass on that.  But all in all, the Lutheran church offers a better package.

This time, however, when I ran into my friend, he said that the church had gotten rid of the choir (who was singing Beatle songs when last heard from) and used "paid guest soloists".  He said they even had classical music from time to time.  So, well, yes!!! I would love to sing there as a guest if I got paid.  I certainly sound as good as a lot of paid soloists, I just have given up trying to become a paid section leader somewhere because I don't sightread and can't seem to be bothered learning.

So I sent in a resume.

We will see.

I have no idea if The Mentor is still going there.  I think he spends most of his time traveling teaching dance, now mostly to (female) burlesque dancers. I have totally gotten over my lust for him and my fear of him.  I am grateful that he got me to sing.  If I hadn't been spellbound by singing Dalila leaning against his powerful wiry body, staring into his eyes as if we were about to float off somewhere for a tryst, I wouldn't be doing all the things I am doing today.  So every single tear, even the afternoon he frightened and humiliated me so much that I wanted to jump out his window, was worth it.

I know I won't be thrown if he is there.  The last time our paths crossed was in 2010 when I sang an aria from Gounod's Sappho and we had a nice "workmanlike" conversation about vocal technique.

I still would love to figure him out, though.  He is not like any gay (or straight) man I have ever met.  He is obsessed with women (all his gigs seem to involve him in a gaggle of them and all the pictures he posts show him with one or more females ranging in age from 4 to 94, but never show him with a man) but does not sleep with them.  He just gets his jollies from making us think he wants to.  Here's his latest Facebook "wall" page.  I in fact did post some full length pictures of him a while back (he's enough of a public figure that I don't feel I owe him anonymity) but here's the latest one.  I can see that it was cropped from something full length, that shows people's faces.  But what can one make of the fact that at the very center of the cropped wall picture is - his crotch!!

In other news, when I was tutoring one of the little girls on Monday, she said she wanted me to sing "Silent Night" (she has heard me sing at the Spanish service), so I sang it a capella without warming up, and she recorded it on her phone!!  She said she wants to "copy" my voice.  I told her if she likes to sing she should join the Spanish choir, that they are always looking for people.  So that's nice.

Next up is "O Magnum Mysterium".

By the Seat of My Pants

Although I was wearing this lovely skirt.

To start off, when I got to the recording session, it turned out I was going to have to sing the piece once full voice, and a second time "like a lullaby".  I was a bit thrown, because I had not practiced singing the piece like a lullaby.  Miraculously, I was able to carry it off by singing pianissimo, something I would never have been able to do in that range even a year ago.

The other problem was that the engineer decided it would work better if he recorded the piano accompaniment separately, and then had me sing using it as a soundtrack.  This was challenging also, as I had not rehearsed that way, and had relied on the accompanist to cover for me if I came in late or early.

There is one spot that I have trouble with over and over (I wouldn't if I could drill it at home with an accompaniment) and so of course the fourth time I sang the A section with the prerecorded accompaniment (I had already recorded it twice for the regular version and once for the pianissimo version) I got off at that spot, and because the prerecorded accompaniment just galloped ahead without me, I asked to stop, just assuming that the engineer could either erase it and let me start again (at the beginning of the A section) or just splice in the first pianissimo version of the A section (because in Bach you don't ornament the reprise, so it would have been perfectly usable).  Anyhow, I am not sure what the problem was, but he said he was not sure he could erase and splice (I was reassured that was his problem not mine; the accompanist said he had never recorded a 6 minute aria without splicing somewhere).  So we left it that he would try to do this at his computer and if he couldn't, I could come to his studio some time after New Year and sing against the prerecorded accompaniment (and I would have it at home to rehearse with also).

I am rather surprised I have not heard from him (he thought the filmmaker would call or email him to discuss how things went), but maybe no news is good news.

I did write to the filmmaker the next day to thank her for asking me to sing.  Apparently she is going to enter the film in the Cannes festival in March, so this is quite an ambitious project.  I am not regretful that I didn't ask to be paid, though, because she is putting it together on a shoestring.  She will pay the accompanist, and that will suffice.

She wrote back to me and said that she had had a few screenings of parts of the film in Paris with live music (a choir is singing something in the film as well).  So I told her if she shows the film here, anywhere between DC, New York, and Boston, that I can get to on Amtrak, I will be happy to sing (with the prerecorded accompaniment, obviously). I suppose in that case I will ask her to pay for my transportation out of the film budget.  It will mean an opportunity to go somewhere which I have so few of (really none).

So now what's up next is "O Magnum Mysterium". I will be singing that in church on December 27.  I am quite amazed at how well I can sing all those high climaxes.  I can keep my mouth small and sort of drink them in backwards, without a lot of tension and push, which is a whole new experience for me.  I got my first taste of it when I worked on the Amneris/Radames duet and was able to easily wail out those B flats if I imagined myself going backwards on a roller coaster.

Of course there is always an underlying sadness that all this is too little too late.  I so want to cut and run with this and do nothing else and be young enough that it matters to the world out there, and that I can throw myself into the world out there because I don't have to take care of other people.  Really just one other person.  But I could never ever live with myself if I walked away from loving her and caring for her.  It just would be nice to have a peer relationship with someone like all those singers who are married to each other or to other musicians or, even better, to "mentor" figures like conductors and producers, and who have a "team" in a flurry around them fussing with every aspect of their lives.

The Show (or the Rehearsal) Must Go On, and It Did

I had one of the most grueling 24 hour periods from Sunday at 5 pm to the following Monday.  I had to take my partner to an urgent care facility because she was semi-comatose from not having eaten, and had a rapid heartbeat and a lot of mental confusion.  I took her there because she wouldn't go to the ER.  Of course the doctor at the urgent care facility called an ambulance and she went to the ER.  Because she had no real diagnosis (all test results were normal other than her rapid heartbeat, which she often has because she has a-fib) she didn't get admitted until 3 am, and even then was admitted to the observation floor.  I finally went home (it has probably been over 40 years since I have been out that late trying to get a cab - fortunately one of the nurses went out and got one for me as she is used to being out at that hour) but only slept for four hours.

Then it was up, go to her house, feed her cat, and back to the hospital.  I stayed there all day and then went home with her and saw that she had dinner.  After several meals, she seemed to be better.  Then I went home and slept for 10 hours.  The good news is that because she was an inpatient, Medicare will pay for her to get home care for several weeks, certainly more often than the once a week she is getting it now.

Yesterday morning I had my rehearsal for the recording and I sang well, which amazed me because when I warmed up at home I could feel how tired I was.  Not the voice itself, but my diaphragm and the whole infrastructure.  But singing made me feel better and really the only problems I had were with entrances, not anything vocal.  And the accompanist helped me with those.

Some bittersweet news was I heard from him that Little Miss (he knows her from the conservatory where he works) has landed a leading role in another one of the no-pay opera groups that rejected me.  So she is on the way to being launched.  Of course I am happy for her.  I want her to succeed, as so few do.  On the other hand I would be being disingenuous if I didn't admit that I am much happier now that she is off my turf.  There is really only one other trained singer in the soprano section who is there regularly and she does not have the level of confidence or (apparent) charisma that Little Miss has; for example she was genuinely happy that I was going to be singing the top soprano part in the Handel and that she wouldn't be singing it alone.  And she is also busy, so for example at the last rehearsal I was, in essence, the only person singing the soprano part in the Mendelssohn, which I am pretty secure with now, although it is still hard for me to sing as softly as required up in that range (and "choir softly" entails much much less volume than "aria pianissimo"!!)

Lastly, I regrettably will not be able to attend any funeral services for my neighbor.  They are all in Queens today and tomorrow.  I am sure she will forgive me.  When the Tenants Association Secretary sent an email about her passing, she gave her a lovely tribute, referring to what an honor it was to hear this woman "practicing her craft".  Lani (the singer who died) used to say things like that to me, although very few of my other neighbors have.  I wonder if that's the sort of tribute I will get when I die?  (I can't believe I am worrying about this!!)

On Thanksgiving, and a Requiem for a Nightingale

I had thought of making this two posts, but there's no reason why they can't be one.

Thanksgiving is very important to me. It was on Thanksgiving 1976 that I got together with my partner, so yesterday was our 40th Thanksgiving.  There was only one that we didn't spend together: 2006, after we broke up and before I began taking care of her again.  As I posted on Facebook, I walked into her apartment that Thanksgiving (the kitchen and the front of the house looked better than they do now, because she had a roommate), one of three guests, but invited earlier than the others, to the sound of Stevie Wonder singing "Isn't She Lovely".  Of course it was on an old fashioned record player, because that's where music in the home came from in those days.  I was smitten, and the rest is history.  I laughingly say that if I had done my Jane Austen style due diligence, the way, apparently, young women do today before they get "hitched" (also, I know of almost no middle class professional woman who ended up with the person she dated at 25), I would have run like hell.  Here was someone who had been on public assistance for quite some time (you actually used to be able to live on it if you took the odd babysitting or dog walking gig), who was in trouble with the City Marshall for having defaulted on a credit card, and whose bedroom looked like a war zone, but she nailed me with her charm, wit, and flair for romance.  And so she has kept me.  Even now, when all we have are fragments of a relationship, she brought tears to my eyes by, when we were walking home from the bus stop, pointing out some ginko leaves that had fallen and saying "see, these are shaped like hearts, just for us!"  Priceless.

As for Thanksgiving, I was realizing that the last time I sat at a table in someone's home where the people were related by blood, I was in my 20s, my grandparents were still alive, and my mother and her sister were still on speaking terms.  After that I spent Thanksgiving at my mother's house with my partner and some of my mother's neighbors, or at an AA party (sometimes my mother's boss would invite her for the Thanksgiving weekend to her house in the country, knowing that I actually had somewhere else I would rather be).  In later years, when my partner no longer could climb the stairs to my mother's apartment, we all ate in a restaurant.  And now that my mother is gone, my partner and I continue that tradition.

I know that AA says "don't project", but I worry a lot about what will happen when I am left behind (if I am not killed by a terrorist or run over by a bus).  I will have noplace to go on a holiday that is so synonymous with family.  Which is why I don't damn, across the board, stores that are open on Thanksgiving.  Whereas I think no one needs to buy a flat screen tv on Thanksgiving, maybe some of the store's employees are lonely and would like to forget that it's a holiday and have something else to do. (I definitely think that no stores should make anyone work on a holiday.  They should ask for volunteers.  I'm sure there will always be some, particularly if there is extra pay - or a free tv! - dangled as a carrot.

It also makes me sad that my Thanksgiving is so simple and bare boned, rather than a rich tapestry of the good, the bad, and the ugly that I can talk about afterwards.  Not much to say, really, about a meal at El Quijote. We were probably in and out of there in 45 minutes. Then we had some pumpkin pie at home, from La Delice, a pastry shop on the corner near where my partner lives, which I think is the best pastry shop in the city.

When I was a teenager, I hated Thanksgiving, because I saw it as a time when my obese maternal relatives all got together to stuff their faces, and I, with a BMI teetering around 25, average for an adult, but huge for a 14 year old, struggled to try to say no to all the rich desserts.  In retrospect, though, what I remember was all the jollity as well as the food, and how lucky I was to live amidst all that abundance, that I wasn't medically obese, and that I could have had a different life if I had had different values.

Now I am even a tad heavier than I was then (although not when compared with my age peers) and have no family and little jollity.  Just a lot of hard work caring for someone I love, and trying to ferret out a few treat crumbs.

When I came home, I got some very sad news, via Facebook.  My upstairs neighbor, a coloratura soprano with a Juilliard pedigree, apparently died the day before, while waiting for a kidney.  I know that she had been on dialysis for a very long time.  She was five years younger than me.  She was one of the loveliest people I have ever met, certainly among professional singers, most of whom are snooty and snarky, at least in my experience.  When I first moved into the building in 1986, I would hear her warbling the Queen of the Night aria and other coloratura standards, or she would be playing the piano for students (I think she was also a coach).  A few years after I started singing she stopped me once and said that she admired how hard I worked and how much I practiced, and that she could hear that I was sounding better and better as the months went by.  She even came to my DIY performance of Samson et Dalila.  And I saw that she had "liked" my little DIY Facebook fan page.  My heart is heavy.  All this reminds me that life is short and that I am of an age when people die and that it's sad, but it's not a freak accident.  How ironic that her life ended at the age when my life, at least as a singer, was just beginning.

I feel now, even, as a senior citizen, that I am only just beginning. Obviously I am not a "beginner" in terms of studying voice, but I feel it's only now, in the past year or so, that I have a solid technique, that I don't get as tired (do the extra pounds, which may partly be muscle, help, I wonder?) and no longer panic or at the least strategize every time I see a note above an F sharp.  I just sing.

My Christmas solo will be "O Magnum Mysterium" by Lauridsen.  The other day I sang through it and all the high climaxes on G (and there are a lot of them) were just business as usual.  So when I step into the church to sing this I have to remember that this new voice is now me.  (It also will help that the accompanist will be the Director of Music Ministries, not the original choir director who simply does not like big voices and makes me feel inhibited.)

And I have been singing up to a high C sharp every day now.  If Lani were there now, she would be proud of me.

 RIP Lani Misenas 1955-2015

I Will Be Recording!

At long last, I have a date to record the Bach aria "Hochster mache deine Gute" for my friend's short film.  It will be December 4.

It's been almost two years since we began discussing this, and it has worked out for the best, because now I am much more technically secure singing something in that kind of high tessitura, so I will sound good and won't strain.

Once it's recorded, I will be really excited about tracking the progress of the film, and who knows?  I may get to go somewhere!  The filmmaker lives part time in Nova Scotia and part time in Paris.

I had a bit of egg on my face last night at rehearsal when the choir director handed out a four-part Mendelssohn piece with a high-ish soprano part (meaning a lot of Gs) and because I don't really sightread, and had not only never practiced this, but had never even heard it, I was fumbling for notes, which is not conducive to good singing technique, which is all about having a physiologically based plan for what to do with each phrase.

Well, so now I have my work cut out for me.  Both the Bach solo and the choral piece would use the same type of high light approach (not the same thing as singing "off the voice" to whiten the sound), so my technique will stay consistent and I won't be switching back and forth.  It will represent a nice break from Carmen.  Venus will have to wait, now, although I have been listening to that scene and getting it into my ear.

I also spoke with the Director of Music Ministries about a Christmas solo.  It will either be December 27 or January 3.  I suggested the Lauridsen "O Magnum Mysterium", "Rejoice Greatly", and "Et Exsultavit".  He is supposed to get back to me in the middle of next month.

Manifest Me a Grounded Groundling

These days I (we) are very blessed by all the help we are getting.  My partner has a regular caseworker whom I also see once a month, and she now has "help" once a week: a cleaner comes on alternate Wednesdays and a home attendant comes on alternate Tuesdays on the opposite weeks.  She only has to pay for one visit by the home attendant.  Also, an agency that helps "the elderly who hoard" is sending an intern to try to shovel the place out, on alternate Wednesdays.  No one has ever succeeded with this in the almost 40 years I've known my partner, but hope springs eternal.  She also now has a "medical navigator", that is, a nursing student who takes her to doctors' appointments if they are not serious enough for her to need me there.

But the most recent blessing is a caregiver group that is just getting started, that meets once a month.  I  had gone to a weekly group at the LGBT senior services center but it was full of unmotivated depressives of both sexes, and bi-phobic "angry dykes" whom I am just so done with.  I felt like the mentally healthiest person in the room (with one exception), which led me to conclude that I was in the wrong place.  This new group is a mixed group, and the woman who runs it is a former opera singer, who was married to a famous opera singer, and is now an interfaith minister.

Yesterday, no one showed up, so it was just me and her.  We talked a lot about singing, first.  She told me about herself (because I had asked) and I told her my singing story, in chronological order, something I really have never done except in these "pages".

I also told her about what had been going on lately, most notably (I have not written about this here) an episode two weeks ago when I thought my partner was dying, because she made no sense when she spoke and kept going to sleep.  I said that this, as a more serious manifestation of the gut-wrenching upset over my non-birthday, underscored that I (we) simply do not have close friends.  Anyone I am close to emotionally doesn't live here any more, or is always somewhere else, and other people are, well, to be blunt, acquaintances. Not the sort of people you'd call in an emergency.   I had called her cardiologist, but he told me to take her to an emergency room, which she refused. So, yes, it would have been so comforting to have a "family member" (don't have those) or equivalent to use as a sounding board, even someone who might come over and make an assessment. Finally I did call a professional home health aide from the church (who did things for my partner prior to her getting all this free help) and asked if she would take a look at my partner. She said she could do it Sunday after church (this was a Friday) so that was where we left things (my partner didn't look like she had had a stroke, and upon closer inspection didn't look like she was dying, so worse come to worse I would sit with her until then, or if she got really bad I could call 911). As it turned out, by the following morning, after having slept for 24 hours, my partner was back to her normal self.  We figured either she had accidentally taken an extra allergy pill (she takes two at night that make her sleepy) or that the new generic the pharmacy had given her didn't agree with her (she is now back on the old generic). But again, this just underscored my need for close friends, and I haven't a clue where to find them.  (I meet tons of people all the time, but as I have stressed, they are always busybusybusybusybusy either with family, work, or their endless time in the air galivanting hither and yon.)

When I mentioned this to the minister/counselor, she said "why don't you pray for a friend to manifest?"  Then she added "be sure it's not someone needy who wants you to take care of her!"  I wouldn't have thought of that, but what I did think of is that I need, first and foremost, someone who has time for me, and that's what no one  has.  (I don't mean "me" in the personal sense; these people don't have any time for anyone who is not a family member - some are now awash in four generations of these - or someone to "network" with.)  So, we see each other when we see each other and exchange pleasantries, and even some sympathy where it's needed - and I get a lot of the latter on Facebook - but then everyone scurries home, or to another job, or a concert, or a meeting.

So I think the friend whom I want to manifest is a "grounded groundling".  Not a loser (I have met quite a few of these at various groups), but someone who is looking to fill their life, rather than pare it down.  Another groundling.  Someone who doesn't have children or grandchildren, or money to travel (except maybe once a year for a vacation).  Someone who is here.  Who will be here tomorrow, here next week, here for lunch, here if I call and need help because well, they don't have anything all that important to do most of the time, certainly not after work hours.  I think this health aide fits the bill. Of course if she takes care of my partner I will pay her (I have my partner's power of attorney so I can do that with her money, whether she "wants" the help or not.)  But she said that I can call her any time.

Musings on Life as a Groundling

More and more, it seems that most of the people I know spend half of their lives in a plane.  What are they doing and where are they going?  Even when I had money to travel (and paid vacation), I traveled at most twice a year.  Once for the big vacation (Europe, Texas, the West Coast) and maybe once for a small vacation (the North Fork of Long Island).

One of the consequences of not procreating that I never foresaw, is that I don't have issue dispersed throughout the country (or the world).  One of the consequences of being self employed at home is that I am not "sent" anywhere as part of the duties of my employment (and anyhow, that was petering out in many workplaces thanks to the Internet).  I managed to work for 13 years in a high level management job and went out of town "on business" exactly twice: to Cleveland, and the first time I went I fell and smashed up my knee, which was, in retrospect, the last day I felt "young" (I was 54).

Now I don't go anywhere.  This apparently has become extremely unusual.  It certainly didn't used to be.  Most people I knew grew up here, stayed here, had children here, and, if they had demanding jobs, often never even took a vacation except to fix up the new house they bought or catch up on movies.

Suddenly I feel in a position of having to apologize for being here.  And yes, I'll be here Monday.  Yes, I'll be here the third Sunday in November.  Yes, I'll be here on Thursday six months from now.
Except for one week in Maine last year, I have not been farther afield than Brooklyn since 2009.  I have not been on a plane since 2007.  I have not been out of the country since 2004.  Of course, this is true of many people, but it's not true of people like me, you know, "middle class professionals" (which apparently is what I am according to the Hollingshead Index, a formula for figuring out what socioeconomic stratum a child comes from, which I discovered in a reference in one of the articles I edited).

I used to think of myself as a prisoner and my studio apartment as my cell.  I get time off to sing in a church (good works), tutor children (more good works), and take care of my partner (yet more good works) and to shop and see social service providers and doctors, and then it's lockdown time, back to my workstation cleaning up grammar and syntax the way real prisoners make widgets, or whatever (apparently when Anne Perry was in prison as a teenager she made cotton bras on a sewing machine).  I need to add here that I love singing, the new tutoring that I'm doing, and taking care of my partner (well, I love her, if not the mountains of dirty laundry), but it is still a familiar routine.

After doing a lot of reading about real prisoners, some in solitary confinement, I decided that this was an offensive analogy, so I dropped it.  But I still need to read about real prisoners to remind myself that I am not one.

Yesterday after spending an evening at one of my women's Moon Circles (which I love, and find nourishing, but which also, disappointingly, seem to be yet another magnet for ambitious successful professional women who need some New Age downtime and spiritual nourishment) I decided that what I am is a "groundling".  This term originated in Shakespeare's time, and was used for the people at the Globe theater who were too poor to have regular seats and had to stand in the pit.  A third, metaphoric meaning of this term is "someone who lives or works near the ground".  So yes, that's me.  I am not in the air, I am on the ground.  And even thought my small patch of ground (really, I live between Houston Street and 100th Street from York to 10th Avenue) is the most highly prized and most exciting patch of ground in the world, it is still only one patch of ground.  I am of the neighborhood, neighborly.  No grandchildren in California.  No business meetings in Paris - forget Paris! not even any business meetings in Boston.

Of course, I always could go somewhere, but wait.  My number one priority is taking care of my loved one, for however many more years she has.  She can't travel.  She is too fragile.  I have no money, or very little.  Yes, I take voice lessons and buy astronomically expensive medicine for my soon to be 20 year old cat, but that's about sustaining life (and even if I could bundle up my partner and take her somewhere, what about the cat?  who would medicate her?)  So my priorities right now are right here.

Actually there are a lot of interesting things to do here, and I do do them occasionally: go to concerts, go to museums, sit and take pictures in pretty little pocket parks.

But I don't have a lot of show and tell.  And if you're always going to be here, people tend to take you for granted.

New Stuff

Finally, I have some new things to report a propos of my singing.

My teacher and I have decided to put Carmen to bed now until April, except for drilling the notes in Act IV, which I am expanding beyond what I had sung a few year ago.  The last few times I sang the "Seguidilla" I was confident with the high B, so it's a good idea to leave it alone.

I just love, love, love the solo version of the Lauridesen "O Magnum Mysterium".  It is a big piece, compared with what I usually sing in church, so it would have to be for a special occasion, probably not when the regular choir director is there because he doesn't like the sound of a big voice singing high, and that's his preference.  If there's a spot for me to sing early in the season I can sing "Bereite Dich Zion".

My teacher just saw the HD version of Tannhauser and he said, yes, I should look at Venus.  Working on that in German would be a good companion to singing the Bach.  German is my weakest language, so I need to improve it.

He also said I should sing through Santuzza's "Voi lo Sapete".  This surprised me as he once told me that the role was for a soprano and it wasn't for me.  Years ago I tried to sing the "Easter Hymn", hoping it was something that I might sing in church (HAH!) but found the tessitura too high.

I told my teacher I felt guilty that after successfully nailing the phrases with the high B flats in the Amneris/Radames duet I just didn't feel like singing it again right now (didn't want to push my luck?) and he said that was fine.

In other news, I had mentioned working at the church after-school program, and last week I got to work with a child one on one for the first time and I really loved it.  I never wanted any children and have never spent much time around them, but I volunteered for this because they urgently needed people and Monday afternoon is an ideal time for me to do something (weekends are for eldercare and I am not crazy about being out at night, particularly once it gets dark early and there might be snow on the ground).  I figured if I have trained lots of editors over the years I can help a child with English homework (I begged off helping with the math homework!)  Well, once I sat down with a real live little boy, it just made me so happy!  I felt connected, which I never do sitting here editing at my laptop alone in the apartment.  And I got to use my imagination and intuition, faculties that have rusted over the years in corporate environments.  Anyhow, I now really believe that God was at work once again in my life, bringing me something joyful, in addition to singing, to break up the tedium of my dull work and dreary (and sad) eldercare.  It was refreshing to be at the other end of the life cycle, which I never am, because I never had children and don't have siblings.

R.I.P. L.M., and a Thought about Holidays that Wither Away

I had been planning to post something anyhow, to let readers know that my friend L died peacefully a few days ago.  It was all very quick.  So this is another friend gone.

I have been inspired to write something by a heart-wrenching Facebook post from a friend - a young man whose mother died recently.  She was younger than I am.  He was writing about how painful the holidays will be, and how hard it will be to try to recreate the old traditions.

What has happened to me is very different.  There was no one big loss that changed everything.  I suppose there was for my mother, in that my father died suddenly in 1964, when I was 14.  In addition to grief, she was dealing with the shock of now being thrown on her own resources with an unruly teenage daughter, when she had not had a "job" other than homemaking and parenting, for 15 years.  He died near Christmas, so that was the last year we had a Christmas tree.  I'm sure if I had wanted one, we would have continued, but I did not want one (and I think this shows how different 1964 was from, say, 1984 and subsequently) because I thought holidays were for "children" and spending time with family was "icky".  Also whether or not to celebrate Christmas had become a hot button issue because, as someone whose mother was Jewish (albeit secular) my Jewish classmates told me I should not (which my mother thought was ridiculous - she told me that Christmas trees, rather than being "Christian", were, in one view, pagan, and in another, simply part of "Western Civ", along with Bach, Handel, and paintings of the Madonna and Child).

I have had a lot of rich, deeply meaningful holidays since then with friends, or with my mother and my partner (after my mother's parents died I did not have any sort of blood family, other than distant cousins who apparently have no interest in me - I have tried to connect with them at various times over the decades to no avail).

What has left me bereft now isn't the loss of one person, but the falling away of many people, either through death, "relocation", travel, or, simply, lack of energy and lack of interest. And, so, by extension, holiday celebrations (and birthdays) have just withered away.

I never had homemaking skills and that's just the way things are.  It is not likely to change.  I live in a rent regulated studio apartment in a prime neighborhood, and I am not likely to move somewhere now where I can host holidays.  And no one I know does these things either.  For years my mother would have Thanksgiving and Christmas in her apartment, the latter with a bowl of ornaments, some branches, a red tablecloth, and some candles.  And presents, even if they were chosen beforehand by the recipient (her idea of the best way to use money wisely and avoid disappointments) were always elegantly wrapped.  And (I had been discussing this with a friend recently), unpleasant or mundane topics were forbidden at the dinner table.

Once my partner was unable to climb the stairs to my mother's Brooklyn apartment, we had these holidays in a restaurant, taking turns paying, or splitting the check.

Since my mother died, my partner and I eat in a Spanish restaurant in Chelsea on Thanksgiving Day and Christmas Day.  We used to bring leftovers home for her neighbor, a dear friend, but that woman, although she seemed healthier, more fit, and more mobile than my partner, died a few years ago.

I try to decorate (a little) for Christmas.  I have some Christmassy things that I can put around the apartment and I always buy a little tree.  Always the theological mongrel, I no longer feel conflicted about Christmas.  I am Christian enough to celebrate Christmas, but too Jewish to want to be Baptised, no matter how much I love the Lutheran church where I sing almost every Sunday.

And I make sure that my partner has a little tree.  There are some ornaments that I used to display around the apartment, but now that she has the cat, they might get damaged.

I don't buy or receive presents at Christmas.  I can't afford it and it is not necessary.  I can be happy singing, having a meal out, and photographing all the beauty around the city.

Of course I wish things were different.  Through a combination of choices I made (not to have children) and chance (I no longer work in an office where a certain amount of socializing - certainly birthday lunches with a large group, and an annual holiday party in an upscale venue - is provided in situ) I am left with very little.

I don't want to be someone whose life ends with a whimper, becoming quieter and quieter until there's nothing there.  I'm not that kind of person.  I'm a BIG DIVA who loves dressing up, and who always likes to flirt with "too much".  If I want MORE I don't even know where to start.

After that gut wrenching birthday that wasn't, I told myself that I was going to do things differently.  I was always going to say "yes" to anyplace I could go where there would be people, instead of "no".  So I am now working at the church after school program.  I will go to more of the Moon Circles.  I engage in conversations with people I meet in stores.

How did I end up having such a tiny footprint?

The other day I asked myself: is someone who gets four birthday cards, a spoiled lunch, and a dress bought under coercion for a milestone birthday worth less than someone whose large extended family throws them a party with 50 people, a huge meal, and a slide show complete with funny stories?  I have certainly been to those.  I suppose not in the eyes of God.  But I do feel that.

Well, on a more upbeat note, it looks like I will have my birthday concert!!  I am now in real communication with the woman at the Home.  She said it sounds like a lovely idea,  So now I just have to settle on a date, and ask her if I can invite guests.  I said there wouldn't be more than 10.  Fat chance that there will even be that many.  Well, I will post it on Facebook and say it is my birthday.  All I want is a few people to come with a cell phone camera and maybe someone to bring flowers.  Or someone can send them to my house.  I don't even know anyone who can be bothered doing that any more.

Milestones

Today would have been my mother's 99th birthday.  This is a photo of us at her 90th, the last big celebration that she had.

My mother always did birthdays in style: hers, mine, friends'.  She made much of celebrations of all kinds, including Thankgiving and Christmas, this latter even though she was an atheist.  And any occasion at all was an opportunity for a meal out.  When I was younger I rolled my eyes over this, thinking of how fat she was (by the time the photo above was taken she had lost a lot of weight).  This one (below) is a better indicator of our respective sizes, taken at Fiorello's some time after the millennium, either for her birthday or Mother's Day.

We didn't plan anything to celebrate.  Last week we went to the ballet.  I always think of my mother when I'm at the ballet, or looking at art.  

My friend L is now in a hospice in Columbus, Ohio.  I hear she is "out of it" most of the time.  Since 2007 I have lost my mother and three friends to death (I am not counting L here at this point), three to moving out of state, and two to an endless round of out of state commitments (including Clueless).  I have no idea how to replenish the well, other than by engaging in various activities while I'm not working, singing, or caring for my partner.  Last week I started working at an after school program at the church where I sing.  Maybe that will lift my spirits and be a source of human contact.  I actually do have a lot of "buddies" and people I can have a meal with from time to time but socializing is pretty far down their list of priorities behind family and work - or travel, which they all seem to do either for business, family, or pleasure.

On a more upbeat note, I finally made contact with the woman at the senior center where I want to put on my birthday concert.  Once that date is on my calendar I may be able to shake off the rage and misery I felt over this past birthday that never was.  I am not sure what it says about me (and I am willing to take the blame) that I passed such a big milestone with no one giving a flying fig except the Medicare office and the MTA.   So this date will be on my calendar.  The day (it won't be the exact day, but the Sunday before or after) will mean something.  It will be special even if none of my friends do a bloody thing.  When I wrote back to the woman in charge I told her that I was putting on the concert for my birthday but that that was not relevant as far as the audience there was concerned.  That is would be a mix of classical, musical theater, and "old favorites" from the Gay 90s and earlier, and was meant to be entertaining.  I also said I could tweak the repertoire if she thought that was necessary.  I know my teacher has sung in operatic concerts there, although not recently.

And last but not least, I will be good to go with the high soprano part in the Handel for Reformation Sunday. It really is not hard.  It isn't as high as the duet I sang from Anna Bolena.  We sang through the piece several times last night and I did not get tired or nervous, nor did I start singing "off the voice" to try to keep the volume down.  So the drill is: I can do chores for my partner tomorrow, but not much talking.  So I will promise myself not to get into an argument.  And Sunday morning I will keep stumm other than singing the anthem.  There will be a small orchestra there, so let's hope we don't overrehearse it.  And I will bring a protein bar.

                                                                                                                        

The Eye of the Needle Part 2

In my last post I quoted this Bible verse:

"It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich person to enter the kingdom of God.” (Mark 10:25)

This post could be subtitled, "And yet some can."

In an addendum to my last post I mentioned a friend of mine and my SO's who has terminal cancer.

My heart is very heavy.  She isn't really my friend (as she herself once said!) but is a friend of my partner's.  But I am feeling her loss so keenly because she was one of those rare people who brought joy to everyone she met.  Running counter to type, and oh, so antithetical to the woman I described in my previous post and called "Clueless", L. (my friend who is dying), felt it was her moral obligation to use her large unearned wealth not only to give to charities (she gave money and land) but to treat her less fortunate friends.  No matter where she was (and she spent quite a lot of time out of the country) she always remembered to give my partner a membership to the Museum of Modern Art as a birthday present.  Not only was she ever generous, she also never let my partner's birthday pass unacknowledged.  She renewed this membership every year. If she was going to be gone during my partner's birthday month, she hand-delivered a card with the new MOMA card in it the month before. This membership has brought us countless hours of enrichment and pleasure.

Several times L. gave us a check when we went on vacation.  And if she met people for lunch, she always picked up the check and left a large tip.  No dickering, no bickering.

As I've said, I believe that people with unearned wealth start life with a large moral deficit, and L. more than made up for hers, and then some.

Even as I am writing this, she will be boarding a plane to spend her last months in the MidWest with her sisters.  She had a mutual friend call up my partner to say goodbye.

Even though L. and I were not close friends, I will miss her a lot.  She loved life and brought joy to so many people.

The Eye of the Needle

"It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich person to enter the kingdom of God.” (Mark 10:25)

This was the subject of last Sunday's sermon and I must say, yes, I believe that.

Like all Americans, I can respect an entrepreneur, but inherited wealth is something else.  In my book, people with inherited wealth owe the universe a lot in order to redeem themselves morally and spiritually.

The first thing I would tell them is that "Charity begins at home, and screw whether or not it's tax deductible" for starters.

The impetus for this post, in the interests of full disclosure, came not from the Bible reading, but from my strong feeling that I should end a friendship (or ease out of it to the extent that I am still in it).

There are three people whom I feel acquitted themselves very poorly on the 65th birthday that I never had, and I will hold their feet to the fire for quite some time.  These are all "friends" sort of, but are they?

One woman is primarily a friend of my partner's.  She says she sent me a birthday card but that it came back because it had the wrong ZIP code.  If that had been the only snafu, I would probably blow it off, as she is primarily my partner's friend.  On the other hand, this woman (at 70) still snivels like a child if a friend forgets to send her a birthday card, so doesn't she know about the Golden Rule?  If a card is important to her, shouldn't it be important to me also, especially on a birthday when many people I know have gotten expensive trips, parties, flowers, and jewelry.  You can read more here.

As I said, I am not going to hold onto a killer resentment over this, but this friend will never get another birthday card from me (or from my partner, because I am the one who buys them).

Another woman actually has been a very very very good friend, although she is bristly, and I never know when she is going to take out after me.  She has done many generous things for me and my partner. Now she has moved across the continent, and I am at a point where I need friends here for a whole variety of reasons.  Rather ironically, she too sent me a birthday card which apparently came back because it didn't have an apartment number on it.  So she wrote to me and told me and asked me what should she do??? Send it again or save it for next year!!  Kidding, right?  If I had screwed up like that (particularly on a special birthday) I would not say boo, but would take my fingers to the Jacquie Lawson web site (she was actually one of the people who introduced me to it) and send a big flashy "happy belated birthday" card.  I mean if I were singing and I made a mistake, I wouldn't stop with egg on my face and ask the audience "oh no, what should I dooooo?"

But these are small matters.  As time passes, I am not going to stay angry with either of these people although I will never acknowledge their birthdays again. (As an aside, the second woman was having some minor surgery so I sent her a get well card from the Jacquie Lawson site, by way of "modeling" good behavior.  She thanked me.  Whether she "got it" is anyone's guess.)  I think my anger at this woman stems mostly from my having confided in her before my birthday telling her  how depressed I was that I had gotten to be 65 and didn't know anyone with the wherewithal or interest to do anything to see that I had a special day, even something small.

But here's the worst.  There is a woman I have known for over 30 years who is independently wealthy.  She was, yes, a friend, and we spent good times together both one on one, with my partner, and with other friends, but, knowing how wealthy she was I was always horrified at how stingy she was. For example she would dicker over a restaurant tip, or count pennies when dividing up a restaurant check, even knowing that the other five people at the table probably had one twentieth the amount of money she had.  Tacky.  After her mother died she became even wealthier and at one point she said she had no idea how to spend all that money on - herself!!  Hello???  Now, true, she gives a lot of money to various charities, but charity begins at home IMHO and it can start with picking up the check in a restaurant if you are having a meal with two people whose incomes put them in the second to the bottom quintile, for example . Or giving someone a theater ticket that you can't use.  I remember her offering me a ticket to a Broadway show, telling me it cost $60.  When I said that was too much, I could see her eyes clicking like a calculator seeing how much she could get for it.  So I bought it from her for $40.  But the point is that IMHO the whole thing was "unseemly" as my  mother would have said.  My mother was relatively poor, but she would never have tried to sell anyone a theater ticket.  If she couldn't use it or exchange it for a "rain check", she would give it to someone, either someone who didn't feel they could afford to go to the theater, or maybe someone well off who had done her a favor that she hadn't yet been able to repay.

So to cut to the chase, this woman did not acknowledge my birthday in any way. She knows when it is and in fact was always one of the people who would come along when we had lunch in a restaurant (and she usually made a scene about the service or about the tip).  She was traveling.  That's what she does now: segue from one  luxury cruise to another.  So OK, I didn't expect her to interrupt her travels to come join me and my partner for lunch but a Jacquie Lawson card (ah, love ya, Jacquie!) wouldn't have gone amiss if she wasn't near a card store.  Or she could have spent what she would have spent on lunch and wired me flowers.

This has come up again because she found a moment between travels (the first she's had since July!!!) to visit my partner. They had lunch.  I didn't even ask if she paid for the lunch because believe me, if she didn't, she is even sleazier than I thought she was.  On the other hand she was very helpful to my partner about various legal and financial matters, so that's something

This morning I got an email from her asking if I could have dinner on Thursday and she said if not then, sometime soon.  I wrote back and said that Thursday was now choir practice night, and I thanked her for being helpful to my partner.

I am not saying here that I am writing her off forever and ever, and at this point I don't want to read her the riot act.  But I'm not up for dinner right now.  Maybe after she squeezes herself through the eye of a needle.

Oh, and that reminds me, I really need to try to catch hold of the woman at the Senior Home where I want to do my birthday concert, so that I can put the date on my calendar.  When I invite people I will tell them it's my birthday and that the only "presents" I want are for them to come, preferably with a cell phone camera to make videos, and that flowers are always appreciated.  What diva doesn't want flowers?

ETA: I need to add a few things here.  First, I just found out that a friend of my partner's, who is primarily a friend of the first woman I mentioned here, has terminal cancer.  Obviously, devastating news like that, and the effect it has on everyone, trumps small concerns such as what I wrote here.  I am taking note, and mean to be grateful for what I have.  Second, Clueless Rich Lady sent a second email to me asking when would be a good time for her, me and my partner to have lunch.  I am just going to let it sit.  I will ask my therapist (seeing her Tuesday) what to do.  The issue is less that I never want to see Clueless again, but that right now I am too angry and worry that if I go to lunch I will just lose it, which is something I don't want to do. Obviously this is not just about this birthday.  It is about my anger in general at rich people who are stingy, and has been building for a while.  And lastly, lest people think I'm just a shallow spoiled princess, my meltdown over this birthday fiasco was one of those watersheds that people have in their lives from time to time.  It was about feeling like Cinderella surrounded by rich, befriended people whose friends and families throw them parties and take them on vacations (material things I care less about); feeling that, I suppose, because of choices I have made and chance, I managed to reach the age of 65 without knowing the sort of people who have either the wherewithal or the interest in making a special day for me (and considering how little money I have and how much time I spend caregiving and how few treats I have other than singing, which is something I provide for myself, I deserve one); and ending up with a loved one who would rather have a tantrum about my cleavage than see me happy.  So it was if nothing else a wakeup call that I need to make changes, and maybe letting my relationship with Clueless chill for awhile can be one of them.

Hard Work Pays Off

Last night was, for me, a small triumph.  The choir picked up the Handel for the first time, and as there were three women's parts, the choir director started out assigning the top alto part (which has a range of about five notes - it's not low, but it doesn't go anywhere) to second sopranos, but then noticed that there would only be one woman left to sing the top part.  She is a trained singer (mostly musical theater) and sings with a nice line, as well as having a solid high B flat.  So I offered to sing it (does this mean last night?  does this mean for real?) because I had learned it at home.  It is not high.  It has a lot of melismatic singing going back and forth to a G which is in solid operatic mezzo territory.  The phrases require top-notch breath control, but there are plenty of instrumental interludes to recoup.

Because it was a new piece of music, it was not riddled with bad habits (like the soprano line in the "Halleluia Chorus").  This type of singing is something I do well.  In the past I would have been terrified that I was going to sound too loud, so I would have sung with a raised larynx in a "spread" position, which would have sound strident, not to mention  left me terrified that I was not going to make it.  This time I just sang with my real voice: dark vowels, larynx down, palate up, mouth not too wide open, to "mute" some of the volume.  I did not get tired.  I can easily sing this on a Sunday morning after a few runthroughs (just on "oo" if necessary) and not get tired.

I mean if some "real" sopranos show up, this may have been a flash in the pan.  There is a pair of twins with trained light lyric soprano voices (one used to sing professionally) who show up sometimes on Sundays to sing music that they know, so if they can "help out" I may be bumped downstairs, but the point is I proved (to myself mostly) that I could sing this without being nervous or getting tired.

It's too bad that even the middle women's part is so boring, though.  I have sung Bach alto parts, even ones that are really too low to showcase my voice, which I have liked, because at least there was something to sink my teeth into, mostly long melismatic phrases requiring good breath control.  But the lower women's parts in this piece really have nothing to offer.  The  issue is not only the limited range, but the fact that the lower parts don't require singing for as long as the higher part, so it's all very "utilitarian".

Well, if nothing else, this has lit a fire under me to learn the solo version of Lauridsen's "O Magnum Mysterium".  It has a number of Gs.  And as I will be scheduling this with the Director of Music Ministries, who seems to have more eclectic taste in vocal colors than the choir director, it may fly.  But it would have to be late in the season, ideally on  Mary Sunday (which has a number of names).  Otherwise I will look at "Bereite Dich Zion".  That's an "alto" piece, but it's not low and it is showy, as most Bach solos are. Cuz, yanno?  I'm a showy kind of gal.

Save the Date

Well, metaphorically speaking.

I now have a definite date for my Carmen concert.  It will be at the LGBT senior center where my partner gets services, after they have dinner, on Monday May 2, 2016.  My voice teacher will be singing Don Jose.  His wife may be the narrator.  She is a contralto who is a good actress and would definitely be able to give it the right tone.  We are getting the same, superb pianist we had before.  He told me he has played for operatic concerts there before.  My teacher will look for a Micaela.  If we can get the woman who sang before, that would be lovely.  Whether or not she can sing from memory (or whether or not I am wearing my glasses) will not be relevant, because we will be singing from books (note to self: remember to find out if they have music stands; if not, remind teacher to bring one, and we can share it).

I asked if I could invite guests and was told yes, but that they had to be over 60.  That makes perfect sense, as they don't want to have to turn away clients because young people are hogging the seats (not that I think we will get that huge a turnout).  Most of my personal friends are that age anyhow, with a few exceptions.  If someone wants to bring my SO as a carer I don't think it will matter how old that person is.

I am mostly over this cold.  Today when I warmed up I sang a high C sharp.  The B in the Seguidilla (and all those low chest tones) are still not the best notes I can sing, but then that piece is not something that shows off my voice all that much.  We have opened the cut in the last act as well as the cuts that the previous producer made in the "castanets" scene, so I need to rework those.

As for choir solos, I am going to see if I can sing "Bereite Dich Zion" during Advent.  Once the choir schedule comes out (after Thanksgiving) I will see where there is an empty anthem spot.  Then next year I would like to order the piano/vocal arrangement of the Verdi "Ave Maria with Strings" so that maybe I can excerpt something for the following year.  Otherwise I seem to have run out of new pieces for Advent.

And we will see about the rest of the church year.  I like to do something every season.

This is not the most inspired post I have written, but I want to say thumbs up that I now have a date on my calendar to sing something!

In the Words of my Cynthia...

I see that the month is almost over and I have not written anything.  Actually, this is a good sign.  I tend to write either when I am unhappy, or when I have some sort of news, and neither has actually been the case.

Choir season has started and I can really see my new technique in action.  We are singing a Handel piece for Reformation Sunday and I really hope that I can get to sing the soprano part, as I can sing it really well (I don't know if that would have been the case even two years ago). It only goes up to a G and it moves around.  On the other hand, there is a top alto part that may be underpowered (or maybe not - it doesn't go very high so they should be able to pull some of the seconds).  I will sing it if asked, but would rather not (I am always happy to sing top alto parts that are peppered with Es and Fs but that's another story.)

Our star violinist has moved to another job at another church.  Maybe Little Miss will go with him?  I know when I heard choral singing there, the choir director's wife sang all the soprano solos, and he is still there, so probably she is so you never know.  On the  other hand, Little Miss will probably be spending less time in our neck of the woods.

I am continuing to work on Carmen.  The A flats that seemed so high a year and a half ago, that sounded great, but took so much work, are now effortless.  The B in the Sequidilla is manageable.  I usually have been vocalizing up to a high C sharp but yesterday I had trouble, probably because I had had a cold for two days.  As a result of all the toddlers at the church (this was what my doctor told me) I have started getting colds of the sort I got as a child but never as an adult: intractable stopped up nose (does not respond to the Neti pot and in fact using it is dangerous) and runny snot.  Fortunately they don't last more than two days.

I still don't have a definite date, but my voice teacher has gone back to singing tenor and wants to sing Don Jose.  I am staying on top of trying to get everything in order for this and my birthday concert.

Lastly (which comes to the title of this post), thanks to a nudge from a woman in the choir who is also a playwright, I have finished the draft of my Cinderella play.  I don't want to say too much, as it is not copyrighted, but at the end of the final scene, suddenly my protagonist just blurted out something that explains my continued involvement with the Lutheran church, which seems strange to people considering that my Unitarian blend of Christianity, Judaism, and Paganism isn't going anyplace soon.  High church Christian houses of worship have the best theater.  It's that simple.  I'm playing a role and the choir robe with the cross on it is my costume.  And what glorious music!!  Unitarians just don't know how to do that, even with a different theology as a starting point.  The women's Moon Circles that I go to are good theater, but I couldn't make them my only spiritual nourishment because there's no music, only chanting.

Well, for what it's worth, here's what Cynthia said:

You can make theater anywhere, now that I think of it.  That’s why I like singing in church services.  I am not religious .... but if you want to hear glorious music and colorful stories while sitting in a magnificent historic building, a church service is the best bargain around. And when I sing (in a choir robe, or in a black dress) as a soloist or choir member, the issue isn’t what I believe, but what the people listening believe; that I am bringing to life something profoundly moving and meaningful to them, just like being in a play or opera, only on a smaller scale, and without having to be in a decidedly un-spiritual and snarky cutthroat environment (you should hear some of my former conservatory classmates talk about other people; you wouldn’t believe it). 

I think this will stand me in good stead for a long time.  And I have made some wonderful friends.

The Heroine of My Own Blog

I have been needing to make a post for quite some time, but have been very busy with my health issues (an eye infection necessitating a trip to my ophthalmologist in Brooklyn), new glasses (see photo), my partner's health issues (taking her to the dermatologist), and work (booooring).

Of course I am still singing!

On Sunday the 23rd I sang both the "Laudamus te" from the Bach Mass in B Minor and "Domine Deus" from the Vivaldi Gloria.  Because there was no air conditioning in the church (they need a whole new unit, which is very expensive, so they have been taking bids) I was excused from singing at 9 and just sang at 11.  The "Laudamus te" went really well.  We even got applause!!  "Domine Deus" went less well; we hadn't rehearsed it enough, and at one point the violinist seemed to be fumbling for the right note, so I ended up doing that also (which I am sure no one noticed) so I didn't get enough breath for the longest phrase at the end.  I apologized afterwards to the pianist (who is also our new Director of Music Ministries) and he said there was no problem, because I had made it work.

So now there is nothing on my calendar - which means I need to fill it up!!  Tomorrow I have an appointment with my partner's caseworker at the LGBT senior services center, which is where I also sent in a request to put on my pocket version of Carmen.  When I am done with my appointment I will see if I can talk with the woman who coordinates the space usage, and see what the status of my bid is.  I will need to set a date and line up other singers (and a pianist) before the year is out, so I want to get this moving.

I have gone back to working on the "Seguidilla" (never an ideal fit for my voice) and I am solidly able to nail that B (I have been vocalizing up to a C sharp every day), but staccati are just not my thing, so I have to sing the scale legato, then take a breath, and portamento from the F sharp up to the B.  As I said, this is just not my style of singing.  My teacher and I discussed the fact that a lot of it is low, but light, like a pop song, but I have to be careful at some point to get back on task with my low larynx position and strong support or I will not make it up to that B.

One disappointment is that the woman who used to produce the September 11 concerts and who helped me produce Carmen really isn't doing anything with classical singers any more.  She posted something about a series of Christmas concerts, which I said I would be interested in, and she emailed me back and said that she really only wants pop or folk singers, as well as people who will help her organize the whole process of finding venues and booking the group into them.  "Planning and organizing" (ah, yes, that was a category on the 100s of performance evaluations I administered when I was working, as well as on my own) is something too tied in with what I did for a living for me to ever want to do it on a volunteer basis, other than as the sole mechanism that enables me to sing anywhere, which I resent, but that's a waste of energy.

I suppose the last thing (and no doubt what prompted me to decide to write) is that I see that Little Miss's performance with The Opera Company That Said I Was Not A Future Investment has been reviewed by a well respected opera blogger.  It was not reviewed in the TIMES (although another opera in that series was, probably because it was something new and different), but this blogger has a wide readership and he gave her the highest praise for her singing and acting.

As it is unlikely that I will ever even be noticed by anyone of that ilk, I have to content myself, as did David Copperfield, by being the "Heroine of My Own Story" here in this blog.

Thoughts on Making Lemonade

I had probably one of the worst birthdays ever, particularly as this was supposed to be a big one, and it's one for which other people have had parties (thrown for them by others or not), been given expensive presents, or taken the "trip of a lifetime".

I basically got nothing.  Four cards, two ecards, probably at least 25 Facebook messages, and an outing to the Morgan Library that was more about caregiving than about enjoying myself (although I suppose I did some of that).  (They were having an exhibit of manuscript and drawings from Alice in Wonderland, one of my favorite childhood books, and what better way to spend my first official day as a senior citizen than by revisiting something from my childhood?)

But the worst was yet to come. As sort of an afterthought, my partner said she would like to take me to lunch on Saturday (after my birthday).  In decades past, it had been possible to get together at least 10 people for such a lunch, both on a personal level, and then again (with different people) at the office.  Since then, two of my close friends have died, as has my mother, three or four have moved permanently, and the rest were traveling and really couldn't have given a flying fig if it was my birthday or not and didn't even bother to send me a card or even an email.

Because I knew I wasn't going to get any presents, I bought myself a summer dress at Land's End (it had been extremely hot and I needed another sleeveless dress).  Here is what it looked like.

Considering the things women wear these days, I would hardly call it shockingly risque, but apparently the fact that it showed some cleavage (I am busty, I have cleavage, I look good in this style of dress, and it was hot out) caused my partner to have a nasty meltdown over my "displaying myself".  Things got so ugly that I did not sleep all night last Friday and spent three hours crying on Saturday.  I said I did not want to go to lunch.  I cried not over being "slut-shamed" (really who cares what is showing when you're 65 anyhow) but because it hadn't seemed possible for anyone to set aside any time to see that ****I**** had a special day. Just for me.  Just for me to wear and do what I felt like without my having to either take care of them or apologize for entangling with their pathologies.

The upshot of it all was that my partner apologized, yes we did have lunch, I put a napkin over my chest while we were eating, and I made a "deal" with her that I would not wear that dress again if she bought me something else (I had found a cotton dress in a catalog for $40 that had a high neck).  I wasn't able to save the image, but it is a lightweight cotton dress that is not too long (no mean feat as I'm now between 5'2 and 5'3 which is apparently off the charts short these days) and that I can hand wash.  It arrived today and looks good.  I really really love the other dress though and by gum I will wear it when she is not around.

On a more positive note.

When I mentioned my despair to a friend of mine (she lives in another state and has health problems, not to mention very little money, so she is not someone from whom I expected fireworks on my birthday although it is of note that she is one person who did take the time to send me a real card) she said that if what I wanted more than anything was a special birthday, I should plan a concert next year on or near my birthday.  Nothing makes me feel more special than singing, right?  And I can do my second favorite thing in the whole world: get dressed up!!

So now I am really excited about this.  I am keeping an "idea book" with notes on repertoire.  It will be purely upbeat.  No heavy opera (except perhaps Dalila's aria, which to me is like a second skin and is in a range as comfortable as most musical theater pieces).  I don't want to post more about it now, because I don't want to spoil it (of course once I have the plan completed all details will be revealed.)

I am still going to try to do Carmen at the LGBT senior center, though.  That can be in April (I think Easter will be early in 2016) and my birthday is at the end of July.

And you will never guess what the best (belated) birthday present that I got today was!!

At my voice lesson I. SANG. A. HIGH. C. SHARP!!!  That is the highest note I have ever sung since I was 13, before I started smoking.  My teacher was absolutely speechless.  Here I am at the age when singers are losing range and I am gaining it!!  Maybe I will turn out to be the Benjamin Button of singers?

Young Venus

I am loathe to post anything negative on my birthday, on the other hand, when better than the actual day of my 65th birthday to call out yet another egregious instance of ageism in opera.

When I get the Times in the morning, naturally the first thing I read is the arts section, and today the first thing I read was this.

Yes, it's wonderful that someone had the ambition, imagination, and vision to mount a Wagner opera on a shoestring, with an orchestra no less.  And if this person was a 25-year-old conducting student, bravo!  I was just about waking up, putting down my last glass of bourbon, and rubbing my eyes at that age.

But why in Heaven's name do the singers in this production have to be young???  Does Wagner have to be hijacked by YAPPers too?  OK, so most of these no pay opera companies (the ones that rejected me out of hand for the most part) want to use young singers, so they produce things like The Marriage of Figaro or La Boheme, occasionally making a foray into heavier operas with large female casts (you always get more women than men interested in these things) like Suor Angelica or Dialogue of the Carmelites, using, by choice a heavily made up 30something in roles like La Zia Principessa or the Old Prioress.  But Wagner???  Yes, there is an outlet for older people to sing Wagner, I know.  The pay to sing that my teacher is involved in does concert productions of Wagner and Strauss (as well as other things) and many of their stalwarts are singers in their 50s (and some of the men, like my teacher, are in their 60s) who have been singing for decades and have moved into this repertoire slowly.

But how about something new and exciting for older singers who may be new and exciting?  Reading the article the word "young" was used 8 times; 6 times to describe the singers they wanted to use and gear this new company toward, once to describe the tenor singing the role of Tannhauser, and once as a synonym for "new" as in "young opera companies".  Their source of singers to cast this Tannhauser with?  YAP tracker.

This made me really really really angry.  Yes, I am way too old to play Rosina (nor would I want to).  But I am not too old to play Venus!!  I even have a usable B natural now.   And it doesn't matter if I have physical challenges.  All she does is lie on a couch. Marjorie Lawrence played Venus after she had polio for Pete's sake.

I am not saying that I am such a stellar package that I would have been cast in a role by that company.  But I would like to have known about it!!

An Old Resentment

After my meltdown in February (posting something on Facebook about how angry I was at the choir director, although I did not say who, what, where, so I have no idea how he knew it was about him) I have tried to chill out about feeling resentful over all the attention that "Little Miss" gets.  I think that however tactless and tacky I was (and I apologized and deleted the post), it did some good because after that compliments and attention were distributed a little more equitably.  I got a coveted solo spot on Good Friday and he gave me a lot of compliments for it.  And I noticed after that he has backed off complaining that if, when I warm up to a high A it is L.O.U.D. that the note is "not in my range".

Of course if I paused to think about it, yes, it rankles that Little Miss is doing an "internship" with the very opera company that rejected me for not being a future investment (I mean I might not have gotten a role anyhow but not getting one role is different from being written off out of hand for what I consider to be an unacceptable reason).  And this is one of the most well respected small no-pay opera companies in the city now.

Anyhow, yesterday we got an email from the choir director forwarding an announcement she sent him about the performance.  One of the things that has really ranked over the past year or so is that he never ever forwarded any emails I sent him about performances I was doing.  It's like he didn't want his imprimatur on anything I did.  He has always been nice about "letting" me hand out flyers during rehearsal and I think the reason a surprisingly large number of people from the choir came to my May concert was because one of the other women in the choir handed out my flyers the day before the concert (when I wasn't there).  To protect against any hard feelings if the wrong people read this, this whole thing may be a coincidence (his "flogging" her performances and not mine), but I don't think so. (Or it may be an unconscious choice.)

Anyhow, the fact that the performance is at that opera company just rubs salt in the wound.  Needless to say I am not going, for a variety of reasons.

After being rejected by all the no pay opera groups in the city, and by some who wanted me to pay them (except two: in one instance I decided I did not want to pay and in the other I paid, to sing a tiny role, and was treated so badly I walked out and let them keep the money as a tax-deductible contribution), I have cut that world off.  I don't attend those performances.  I don't even go to the Met, despite its being around the corner.  If I want "entertainment", I will go to the ballet or a Broadway musical or a play.  If I want to hear "the greats" sing an aria or scene that I am working on, I can look at Youtube.  I don't think watching/listening to people doing something I would just about cut off my right hand to do, but will never get asked, is a way to have a happier life or to sing better, either.  I'm done with that.

So what I need to focus on is: my teacher was thrilled with how the two church solos sound (very different from a few years ago) and now it's just about time I should be hearing from the woman who produces the September 11 concert.  Or if not that maybe this year she will do something for Hispanic Heritage month.  And then there's the social service agency that I contacted about Carmen.  It's getting to be just about time to send a follow-up email.  Oh, and my teacher said "Don't forget about Amneris!  When you don't have something on your calendar to work on, go back to those scenes."  The thrilling thing is he said that; I didn't.

On Ageism

Over a year ago, I wrote a post on Sexism. So as I am now less than a week away from my 65th birthday, a post on ageism is way overdue.

For whatever reason, ageism has stung me in ways that no other "isms" ever did.

Sexism, to me, anyhow, can be taken to be in the eye of the beholder. Other than laws preventing women, for example, from voting or practicing medicine or law, a lot is subjective.  Yes, I'm glad we have a lot of women doctors (I usually prefer them) but is life better now that there are practically no full-time "homemakers" to take care of not only children and elderly parents but also distressed or homebound neighbors? And maybe life was sweeter and more humane when for women, at least, there was still the option, married or not, to be unambitious.

Then there was homophobia.  I never looked gay, so I never encountered it in public places.  Much as I clung to my older (and butch-dressing) partner, people were mind-bogglingly clueless as to the fact that we were a couple.  And regarding those who knew (many of whom were not only embarrassed, but embarrassed that they were embarrassed), hey, it was fun knowing that people thought you were a bit louche.

But ageism has smarted and stung (and often come as a surprise).  My first encounter with it was when I was in my mid 40s, finally feeling my oats as someone mature enough to be a good boss, and was told that I had been turned down for a management position because I was too "stuffy".  Mmmm, isn't being a bit "stuffy" part of being a boss?  (And this had nothing to do with technology, which wasn't yet around then.  And I'm the last person in the world that most people would consider "stuffy"...it was only a corporate persona I had adopted).

Then there's the feeling of being ignored.  Women who refer to "catcalling" as a universal scourge have no idea that the statute of limitations runs out when you're about 45, not matter how great a body you have.  For example, I wore this

one day when it was close to 100 degrees, here, there, and yonder all over the city and no one gave me a second look.

And of course no one thinks you have any sort of a future.  As I've written before in these "pages", the most hurtful rejection I got after an audition had nothing to do with my singing, my acting, or even that I looked to old for the part (it was La Zia Principessa in Suor Angelica), but rather to the fact that I was "not a future investment".  That was about 7 years ago and I sing 200 times better now  OK, I probably am no longer mobile enough to do certain kinds of staging, but I can sing a concert opera from a book, and in a fully staged production of Suor Angelica the Principessa often has a cane!

Worst of all are the jokes.  People who would never make sweeping generalizations about racial, ethnic, or sexual identity groups in polite company (or in a public post on Facebook) think it's perfectly OK to do this about "old people".  Yesterday I was outraged by a woman (probably in her 30s) who not only said she hated the condescending tone that "old people" use, but, when I tried to make a teachable moment by commenting that condescending is an attitude not an age, she got herself into deeper and deeper doo doo by explaining why old people are condescending.  Then she said "well not all of them, but everyone I know who's condescending is old".  Can you imagine the uproar there would have been if instead of "old" she had written "black" or "Jewish" and instead of "condescending" she had used some other generic put-down?? And thinking she was getting herself out of the doo doo by saying "not all old people are like that????" (Again, think of a substitution, and read it back to yourself.)

Maybe I am not aging gracefully.  I don't mind having some orthopedic problems (unless it's snowing), and I am ecstatic that I no longer have to throw myself into the ratrace of hateful, stressful, boring jobs to pay my bills and have health insurance.  And I know I'm still hot, even if you think (out of deference?) you have to know me in person to say so.

But I haven't had my moment yet.  I'm still waiting for it.  I have a lot of growing and learning to do.  I'm not yet ready to pass the baton on to the 20somethings fresh out of music school (which I never went to) and kvell over them in a motherly way.  Hey!!!  I still see them as my competition!!

I don't mean something tacky and silly like "I'm young at heart".  There's nothing that makes me squirm as much as women (it's usually women) over a certain age in tv commercials being "cute" about how young they feel,  hoping to elicit the same response that children get.  I'm so not like that.  I'm  not "cute"; I'm a serious woman and a serious artist who can still raise the temperature in a room by playing Dalila.

What's Next

I haven't written anything lately because not much is happening.

My vocal progress continues to solidify.  Like someone who's lost weight or gained muscle tone, I now have a totally new voice: about a minor third higher and 20 pounds lighter, but in no way smaller.  So this is really me.

I have not had much on the calendar.  On August 23 I will be singing both the "Laudamus te" from the Bach B Minor Mass and "Domine Deus" from the Vivaldi Gloria in both church services.  I feel liberated now with the new music director (the original choir director still leads the choir but the new director schedules solos) because I think he has a better understanding of how my voice sounds at its best.  Pianissimi are lovely, and I would love to be able to master singing them above a high A flat (now that I have those extra notes, I might as well play with them) but they are not for everything, and a big voice has its own splendor that goes way beyond that anathema of church music - singing loud.  Anyhow, this will be a big sing, albeit in a comfortable range, so I will need to stay quiet for part of Saturday which is usually my eldercare day.  It seems that fewer people are volunteering to sing stand alone solos because, for example, when I was at church last Sunday (to see friends visiting from Jerusalem) there was no vocal music at all.  The "Domine Deus" feels easier now that I am singing it with my real voice.

I also heard again from the filmmaker who wants me to sing the Bach aria in her film.  She can't afford to pay the accompanist until her grant money comes through, but things are moving ahead with the film, so I may do the recording in the Fall.  This was another pleasant surprise: the piece (despite my having had it transposed down - it is normally sung by high light sopranos like Natalie Dessay) is still in a high-ish tessitura (similar to that of Giovanna Seymour) and I used to struggle with it, enough so that I had planned to only record the "A" section once and dupe it for the reprise.  Now I am sure I can sing the piece all the way through and it felt quite comfortable.

In a funny way my voice feels like a sink that had been bunged up and now that obstruction is gone.  I referred to this as a "gag reflex".  I don't really know what else to call it.  It would kick in if I started to get tired or was singing in a high tessitura or tried to sing at all above a high A natural.  My teacher had said that the reason for all this is that cartilage and small muscles in the throat and palate are not flexible in older people and it takes much longer to train them.

I was also fishing around for something to sing at the September 11 concert if the woman who runs it will be having it again.  Any time she talks about vocal technique I want to scream (no pun intended) because she has no idea how big voices work, and her suggestions are much more counter-productive than those of the choir director, who at least only tells me to sing softly, not to sing sour spread vowels (in fact he always tells the less trained singers to make more space and darken their vowels).  But I like that she provides opportunities for people to sing and she is extremely knowledgeable about various matters of style.  Anyhow, previously I had never wanted to brave singing an aria in one of those concerts, but this time I thought I would take a look at Fenena's two page aria from Nabucco which is deceptively simple, but then has that deadly octave jump up to a high A, which is, if not pianissimo, at least supposed to sound smooth and lovely.  Well, that was 200% easier to sing than it was three years ago when I recorded it, also.  So maybe I will offer that, or Laura's aria, which I could sing in my sleep, and it is short.

So that's about it.  Nothing much else ever really happens.  I can't afford to go anywhere and can't leave my SO alone anyhow.  In 12 months I will be able to collect Social Security on top of what I make working part time, so maybe we can try to go to Maine again.