Pre-Obit

And I hope the real obit doesn't have to be written for a long time.

I just found out that someone I have known online for over a decade (and hence know quite a bit about) has inoperable cancer and is in a hospice setup in his home.

My relationship with this man has been unusual.  The most important thing in all this is that he was the person responsible for my deciding to look for a Lutheran church to sing in.  He has been a choir director (a rather snooty one - we have had our arguments over my being offended by some of his disparaging comments about amateur choirs, not to mention my sense that he would never have considered me good enough to sing in one of his paid choirs), and, therefore, over a decade ago now, I asked him where to find a choir that might be interested in me.

After I left the Unitarian church where I was "discovered" (I needed to get away from The Mentor and anyhow they had scrapped most of the classical music) I tried auditioning for the only Unitarian church that does have classical music, which rejected me because I did not know how to sing "straight tone".  I also do not sightread very well although I managed to pass their sight reading test.

My friend suggested that I might have better luck with Lutheran choirs.  That they preferred bigger voices, did not sing much of a repertoire requiring straight tone, and, as most of them were all volunteer, did not expect people to sightread perfectly.

Which is how I ended up where I am.

Over the past decade I have followed this man's life through Facebook posts and a blog community I used to belong to, and was aware that he was one of the myriad people I know (in real life or not) who had three things that I have always longed for and will probably never have: a successful career in music (I'd actually be happy to have had a successful career in anything), a spouse (he's had several) who was a partner and helpmeet rather than the high-maintenance "project" that my loved one has always been, and a nice "grownup" looking living space.

As I felt with the voice coach I referenced here http://babydramatic.blogspot.com/2014/08/in-memoriam.html ,  here is a person with everything to live for, so why is he leaving us (whenever that may be) and I am still here?  I suppose I am still here because my partner needs me.  I have no family, did nothing to "write home about" with any of my talents, and have few close friends.

I remember once this man wrote to me about how much he admired me for something (it was something private, so I don't want to write about it here) and I was absolutely nonplussed.  This is something that  I did over 40 years ago, that I basically take for granted.  I may have thought of it as something to admire in the early subsequent years, but certainly not now.  It didn't garner me much.  Whatever I did after that watershed was basically too little too late.

I doubt that man will read this, but if he does, I want him to know that he is in my prayers.

In other news, we are approaching the final (!) hurdle with my partner's care.  A nurse came from the city and certified her for 24/7 care (she was given a score of 23 out of 32, the higher the number, the more care you need).  Now we just have to wait for a nurse from a long-term managed care company (we have selected which one) to see her and complete the paperwork.  We are not out of the woods yet and I am still nervous because our current setup expires April 30.

And finally, a bit of naval gazing (if I now have time for that again, things must be better in an odd way).  I realized that the demographic I am most envious of are the Gen Xrs.  Not Millennials - I see a lot of them having a very hard time.  Of course I am speaking of white, middle class-born women.  These women married later, were choosier about partners, expected to have careers, and got along with their parents for the most part.  I had said in the past that I felt that these women were more apt to put education and careers before relationships and marry for money (or at least with the income of the partner being a factor), but really I think the two things these women always had that women of my generation didn't was being in an environment where being smart and doing well in school was "cool", and believing that adults (particularly their parents) were a support system that it was OK to use, not "the enemy".  Of course I (and many women I know who are my age) made a mess of things.  We alienated ourselves from adults and latched onto the first sexual partner we could find as a support system instead.

Thinking about the man who is dying, I of course contemplate my own mortality.  I hope I don't die before I do something big with one or more of my talents, which I certainly have not done up to this point.  Maybe my partner and I will die together holding hands and what I did or didn't achieve won't matter.  That would be nice.

In Memoriam

I only just learned that one of my beloved coaches and collaborators died of pancreatic cancer in May.  She was my age.  I didn't even know she was ill.  I heard about it in an email from my voice teacher's wife, who had only just heard it herself.

This was the coach who played for my concert production of Samson et Dalila in 2008 and for my Verdi Requiem concert in 2013.  She looked fine then, although she had lost a lot of weight, which she attributed to doing yoga.  Maybe she was already ill and didn't know it.

So how out of the loop could I be?  There was a memorial service a few days after she died, in her apartment.  I know that now because after hearing of her death, I snooped around her daughter's Facebook page and found an announcement of it. I don't know where the guest list came from or where notices were posted (other than by her daughter, who only met me once or twice). (You can read more about her here.)

She apparently is now in London, singing (I don't know many details). The life I wanted; being in the performing arts and living in Europe. Even if she doesn't make it as a professional singer she will have had that experience, that capstone of upper middle class young adulthood, "study abroad"(although my coach and her husband did not have a lot of money and I assume their daughter has done all her studying abroad on grants and scholarships).

I always envied the relationship between mother and daughter.  They loved each other and my coach was always supportive of her daughter, every step of the way.

Right now I am more in shock than just sad.  I wonder what lesson there is here?

In Memoriam

I haven't written for a while, and was hoping to post something more upbeat, but in a way, this is, because it is acknowledging someone whose respect and support meant a lot to me.

One morning, after I had been singing at the Lutheran church for a year or so, after singing Mozart's "Laudate dominum", an elderly man, whom I had heard playing the violin (brilliantly) in a number of services came up to me and said "There's a voice that can carry in a 3000 seat opera house!"  which totally astounded me, as I had been singing pianissimo.  When he told me he was a retired violinist from the New York City Opera I was even more astounded and flattered.

After that, we "performed" several pieces in services (the "Laudamus te" from the Bach B Minor Mass and "Domine Deus" from the Vivaldi Gloria).  We were going to perform the Bach cantata "Erfreute Zeit" when his eyesight and memory began failing.  He never played again after that summer.

I knew that he did not have long, and when I heard that he was in the hospital with pneumonia I had hoped to visit him, but then this morning the church's Pastor posted on Facebook that he had died.

I don't want to link to his real name here, because for now, anyhow, I don't want people from the church who might "google" him to link back to this blog, although I am sure some of them already read it.

I miss this man for loving reasons and for selfish ones: he was part of my beginnings at the church when  the trained musicians were fewer, and we were older.  It was a golden age, never to come again, I suppose, and I should be grateful for having had it.

In other news, last night I had the first rehearsal of the Carmen duet with the tenor and the pianist.  It was a little raggedy, but he has a magnificent voice, and is a superb actor as well.  I love losing myself in the drama.  This is where I am happy: singing (preferably something with no scary climactic high notes), acting, fussing over a costume and props, thinking about accuracy of time and place...

And the red shoes, which I wore at the Strand, totally rock.