I know I owe readers a post (I still seem to have readers, although I have had no new comments for over a year) but I haven't felt much like writing these days. Oddly, I think it's because whether or not I'm happier, I'm more at peace with myself.
First and most importantly, I have found a singing "home": singing concerts and recitals for seniors at nursing homes and other senior venues. I have given up trying to break into the world of the no-pay opera companies. I really am too old. Not from a vocal standpoint, but from the standpoint that not only is my arthritis too limiting for me to run all over a stage (including using stairs and wearing heels), I also don't see myself traveling between the boroughs (or even here in Manhattan) for rehearsals that begin after 7:00 and run as late as 10 pm. These days I wake up between 6 and 7:30 and can barely keep my eyes open by 9:30.
Also church singing. I have decided it doesn't matter whether I am or am not Christian. Church singing is an art form and it's one I am good at. What's important is conveying a message to an "audience" that is meaningful to them. A good high church service is a form of liturgical theater. That is not to say that I am not moved by the spiritual messages (and this church is politically to the far left, so there is a strong social justice message as well). And I have met a nice group of women my age. I am not strictly speaking a "member" of the church, but I do give them money. As I've often said, I feel "too Jewish" to want to be baptised but not "too Jewish" to have a Christmas tree (or to celebrate Christmas in general) or to sing church music. I mean aside from the "star" soloists, the world is full of non-Christians who sing in the sort of big choruses that put on requiems and masses.
As for how church music measures up compared with opera, it requires the same kind of vocal technique but is not as strenuous (the range is more truncated, for one thing) and if you sing in a church you're basically singing one aria or song and the services are in the morning which is a better chronobiological "fit" for me these days.
Right now the most important thing to me is making the end of my partner's life as sweet as possible. All the pieces are in place (Medicaid, hospice) so I just have to stay with her on this journey. I would like to think she will live longer than two months, but I don't know if she will see another Thanksgiving or Christmas.
I am still "orphaned" and can't seem to break through that form of isolation. I have made a lot of new friends, but I am not a priority with them. By the time people are my age they have accumulated a multigenerational family that branches all over the globe, so it seems. My orphan state is the result of 100 years of choices by my forebears.
My father was the only child of an actress who divorced her husband almost immediately after he was born.
My mother had one sister whom she fell out with.
Her sister had one son who isn't interested in "connecting" with me (I made numerous attempts).
His wife is not a "social" being (she is an academic who writes books).
They have one son (he is probably in college by now).
I am an only child.
I have no children.
So I am no one's "obligation". Last year at this time when I was asked what I wanted that I didn't have, interestingly, I didn't mention singing. I said "A birthday celebration that I don't have to plan or pay for" and "someone whose name I can put down on a form as an emergency contact". And both those things are related. I still don't have either. For many people it's a sibling, an adult child, or an adult niece or nephew. They may not be close, but there is duty.
I was told I could have my partner's funeral at the church. If I plan some music, people will come. I don't know what will happen to me when I die. Will I really be in a situation where there is no one left but a lawyer?
Showing posts with label Lutheran church. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Lutheran church. Show all posts
Tuesday, December 31, 2019
Thursday, May 10, 2018
Why I've Permanently Left the UU Church
As the daughter of two atheists (one a secular Jew) who was nonetheless raised in a "WASPy" enclave where, churchgoing or not, people not strongly aligned with a minority religion lived with a "Christian assumption" (meaning we celebrated Christmas and Easter in some fashion), who found a compromise as a teenager by singing in a Unitarian church , and who now is happily ensconced in a Lutheran church as a musician and quasi-member, I am constantly having to explain myself theologically.
I am not a full member of this Lutheran church because I am not baptized (and the idea of submitting to that makes me uncomfortable) so I don't take communion. For years I sat in the choir stall singing the communion hymn, often as a solo, and laughingly referred to myself as the "Shabbas goy" (of course in reverse). Lately I have not had to do that because our new pastor always announces (after explaining that there is grape juice as well as wine, and gluten free bread if it is wanted) "if you don't want to partake you can cross your arms and come up to receive a blessing", which I do.
Many people at that church think I'm a religiously observant Jew (there are a handful of such who are at the church, mostly as musicians, but one is the husband of a congregant) and will in a well-meaning way wish me a Happy Passover, or expect me to understand religious names for parts of the Torah.
If I get caught up in a serious conversation with anyone about these things, I explain that I am culturally Jewish but not theologically Jewish. And then I say that theologically I consider myself a Unitarian. (I don't like the term "UU").
When I say that what I mean, loosely, is: I believe that God is one thing, whether you're Christian, Jewish, Pagan, Muslim, Buddhist, or something else; I believe that Jesus was an important humanitarian but not divine, and I do not call him Christ; and I believe in the "inherent worth and dignity of every human being". I don't believe in the Resurrection. I see it as a metaphor. (Interestingly, the pastors at my Lutheran church believe that Hell is a metaphor - and that Genesis is a poem - but still stand by the Resurrection.) I am agnostic about the afterlife. As I am with someone who will be 84 next month, and may lose her in the not-too-distant future, I like to hope that she will go to some sort of "Heaven", probably out above the Marginal Way where both of us want our ashes scattered. And when my mother died, despite having been an atheist all her life, she looked happy, as if she was going somewhere she wanted to be going, and I heard her talking to the people who had gone before.
So, readers might ask, why not attend Unitarian services? As I have written over and over in these pages, my voice was "discovered" at my local UU church when I was 54, by a charismatic (and later toxic) figure whom I often call "Svengali". There was a sorta kinda classical music program, meaning that the choir sang classical music a few times a year and the handful of classical soloists (now including me) sang solos. After a year or so, the choir director was fired (for a number of reasons) and all the classical music was scrapped. And has never returned despite the fact that the church has had several music directors since then (this was 2005) and now has a new minister as well.
So OK. There's a lot of music that's not "classical" that I am OK with hearing in a church: gospel, contemporary Christian music, Appalachian hymns, African-American spirituals (although I prefer these when they're arranged for classical voices), even liturgical jazz. And in fact our choir (whch is known for its Bach and Mendelssohn) has sung all of those. But what has happened at the UU church with regard to nonclassical music is quite different. They still have their head in the 60s and among their favorite selections are songs by Bob Dylan and John Lennon.
If I haven't said it enough here, probably the years that destroyed me and put me behind the 8 ball forever (and I will be 68 soon) was the period from 1964 to 1972, the heyday of all that "stuff". I can't bear to listen to it, certainly not in a church, which I see as in some ways a link to old traditions. (My Lutheran church seems to have it right: it links to the past in [most of] its music, and in its rituals, and it is firmly planted in the present in its engagement with issues of today.)
To be clear, I have been happy lately and have not wanted to dwell on negative things (although any time I get a "trigger" back to "the Sixties" I silently rage and weep for the girl who could have been - an opera singer, an academic, a lawyer?), but this post was prompted by an invitation I got from a member of my old UU church to something called "Sacred Sounds and Settings". I took a look at it (this church is in a beautiful building and could host some marvelous sacred sounds) and saw that it was going to feature music by Leonard Cohen, Bobby McFerrin, The Indigo Girls, Sly and the Family Stone. Except for Bobby McFerrin and possibly the "Hallelujah" by Leonard Cohen, I don't think any of the foregoing belongs in a church. Sly and the Family Stone??? That's disco (drug) music! (Oh, and I see the choir is now called a "casual choir".) How trendy and what a great way to pander to aging hippies. (If the church wants to attract young people, I have news for you. Young people are interested in many different aesthetics, not just that of the Sixties rebellions.) I didn't want to offend the woman who sent this to me, but I felt like checking the box "not interested". But that wouldn't even begin to cover it. Quite frankly I would rather have a root canal, and to me, anyhow, listening to a "concert" in a church featuring disco music seems blasphemous and I'm not a right-wing Christian!!
On a seemingly unrelated topic, our new pastor (speaking out against the racism of many white Evangelicals) said that the problem with many Christian churches is that they care more about the "culture" than about the gospel. Now I know she was talking about white red state American culture, which does not resonate with me (in fact, as a third generation New Yorker, I've had almost no contact with it). But might it be possible that I am really attracted to "church" because of the culture? (Not white American culture, obviously, but the culture of Jane Austen, Anthony Trollope, and Agatha Christie?) I grew up reading Brit Lit where the Church of England (and its assorted vicars, curates, vergers, deans, sextons, and others) were recurring characters. I have recently begun working on a memoir (amazingly not about singing!) in which I describe the disconnect between my life growing up as an atheist and my continued exposure to the Church through literature. (And later through all the Britcoms I watched.)
I began thinking of going to church after reading an article by Gertrude Himmelfarb about the churchgoing habits of Victorians. She said that after the popularization of Darwin, most intellectual Victorians did not believe in the "supernatural" events described in the Bible (sounds very Unitarian to me!), but they still attended church regularly and considered themselves Christian because to them it was a social and moral identity (and being a member of the Church of England was also a part of British identity) rather than a spiritual belief system.
I know many people dislike Himmelfarb because she leans rightward, which certainly I don't (except perhaps in my attitudes to music, dress, and drug use), but I have to say that reading this article of hers made me feel "OK" about going to church, regardless of what I actually believed.
So what better place to begin than with the UUs. I had felt (wrongly) that this UU church on Manhattan's Upper West Side would be like the Unitarian church of my childhood: Protestant minus the supernatural. (Well, it was, kinda, until the choir director was fired. Then it went rogue Hippie with a vengeance!)
Let's just say it is a far cry from our 1965 Christmas Messiah sing to Sly and the Family Stone!
I'm glad I'm out, and will probably never be back.
I'm happy where I am. I just always have a lot of 'splaining to do. But that's OK. If I can sing, I'm willing to 'splain to anyone who's interested.
I am not a full member of this Lutheran church because I am not baptized (and the idea of submitting to that makes me uncomfortable) so I don't take communion. For years I sat in the choir stall singing the communion hymn, often as a solo, and laughingly referred to myself as the "Shabbas goy" (of course in reverse). Lately I have not had to do that because our new pastor always announces (after explaining that there is grape juice as well as wine, and gluten free bread if it is wanted) "if you don't want to partake you can cross your arms and come up to receive a blessing", which I do.
Many people at that church think I'm a religiously observant Jew (there are a handful of such who are at the church, mostly as musicians, but one is the husband of a congregant) and will in a well-meaning way wish me a Happy Passover, or expect me to understand religious names for parts of the Torah.
If I get caught up in a serious conversation with anyone about these things, I explain that I am culturally Jewish but not theologically Jewish. And then I say that theologically I consider myself a Unitarian. (I don't like the term "UU").
When I say that what I mean, loosely, is: I believe that God is one thing, whether you're Christian, Jewish, Pagan, Muslim, Buddhist, or something else; I believe that Jesus was an important humanitarian but not divine, and I do not call him Christ; and I believe in the "inherent worth and dignity of every human being". I don't believe in the Resurrection. I see it as a metaphor. (Interestingly, the pastors at my Lutheran church believe that Hell is a metaphor - and that Genesis is a poem - but still stand by the Resurrection.) I am agnostic about the afterlife. As I am with someone who will be 84 next month, and may lose her in the not-too-distant future, I like to hope that she will go to some sort of "Heaven", probably out above the Marginal Way where both of us want our ashes scattered. And when my mother died, despite having been an atheist all her life, she looked happy, as if she was going somewhere she wanted to be going, and I heard her talking to the people who had gone before.
So, readers might ask, why not attend Unitarian services? As I have written over and over in these pages, my voice was "discovered" at my local UU church when I was 54, by a charismatic (and later toxic) figure whom I often call "Svengali". There was a sorta kinda classical music program, meaning that the choir sang classical music a few times a year and the handful of classical soloists (now including me) sang solos. After a year or so, the choir director was fired (for a number of reasons) and all the classical music was scrapped. And has never returned despite the fact that the church has had several music directors since then (this was 2005) and now has a new minister as well.
So OK. There's a lot of music that's not "classical" that I am OK with hearing in a church: gospel, contemporary Christian music, Appalachian hymns, African-American spirituals (although I prefer these when they're arranged for classical voices), even liturgical jazz. And in fact our choir (whch is known for its Bach and Mendelssohn) has sung all of those. But what has happened at the UU church with regard to nonclassical music is quite different. They still have their head in the 60s and among their favorite selections are songs by Bob Dylan and John Lennon.
If I haven't said it enough here, probably the years that destroyed me and put me behind the 8 ball forever (and I will be 68 soon) was the period from 1964 to 1972, the heyday of all that "stuff". I can't bear to listen to it, certainly not in a church, which I see as in some ways a link to old traditions. (My Lutheran church seems to have it right: it links to the past in [most of] its music, and in its rituals, and it is firmly planted in the present in its engagement with issues of today.)
To be clear, I have been happy lately and have not wanted to dwell on negative things (although any time I get a "trigger" back to "the Sixties" I silently rage and weep for the girl who could have been - an opera singer, an academic, a lawyer?), but this post was prompted by an invitation I got from a member of my old UU church to something called "Sacred Sounds and Settings". I took a look at it (this church is in a beautiful building and could host some marvelous sacred sounds) and saw that it was going to feature music by Leonard Cohen, Bobby McFerrin, The Indigo Girls, Sly and the Family Stone. Except for Bobby McFerrin and possibly the "Hallelujah" by Leonard Cohen, I don't think any of the foregoing belongs in a church. Sly and the Family Stone??? That's disco (drug) music! (Oh, and I see the choir is now called a "casual choir".) How trendy and what a great way to pander to aging hippies. (If the church wants to attract young people, I have news for you. Young people are interested in many different aesthetics, not just that of the Sixties rebellions.) I didn't want to offend the woman who sent this to me, but I felt like checking the box "not interested". But that wouldn't even begin to cover it. Quite frankly I would rather have a root canal, and to me, anyhow, listening to a "concert" in a church featuring disco music seems blasphemous and I'm not a right-wing Christian!!
On a seemingly unrelated topic, our new pastor (speaking out against the racism of many white Evangelicals) said that the problem with many Christian churches is that they care more about the "culture" than about the gospel. Now I know she was talking about white red state American culture, which does not resonate with me (in fact, as a third generation New Yorker, I've had almost no contact with it). But might it be possible that I am really attracted to "church" because of the culture? (Not white American culture, obviously, but the culture of Jane Austen, Anthony Trollope, and Agatha Christie?) I grew up reading Brit Lit where the Church of England (and its assorted vicars, curates, vergers, deans, sextons, and others) were recurring characters. I have recently begun working on a memoir (amazingly not about singing!) in which I describe the disconnect between my life growing up as an atheist and my continued exposure to the Church through literature. (And later through all the Britcoms I watched.)
I began thinking of going to church after reading an article by Gertrude Himmelfarb about the churchgoing habits of Victorians. She said that after the popularization of Darwin, most intellectual Victorians did not believe in the "supernatural" events described in the Bible (sounds very Unitarian to me!), but they still attended church regularly and considered themselves Christian because to them it was a social and moral identity (and being a member of the Church of England was also a part of British identity) rather than a spiritual belief system.
I know many people dislike Himmelfarb because she leans rightward, which certainly I don't (except perhaps in my attitudes to music, dress, and drug use), but I have to say that reading this article of hers made me feel "OK" about going to church, regardless of what I actually believed.
So what better place to begin than with the UUs. I had felt (wrongly) that this UU church on Manhattan's Upper West Side would be like the Unitarian church of my childhood: Protestant minus the supernatural. (Well, it was, kinda, until the choir director was fired. Then it went rogue Hippie with a vengeance!)
Let's just say it is a far cry from our 1965 Christmas Messiah sing to Sly and the Family Stone!
I'm glad I'm out, and will probably never be back.
I'm happy where I am. I just always have a lot of 'splaining to do. But that's OK. If I can sing, I'm willing to 'splain to anyone who's interested.
Thursday, December 17, 2015
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!!
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".
Tuesday, September 29, 2015
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:
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.
Wednesday, April 2, 2014
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.
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.
Monday, December 16, 2013
This is What It's All About, After All
I haven't written much lately, because nothing much is happening, other than my preparing Carmen. I feel a bit guilty that I cancelled attending this evening's get-together with the coach who is helping me with this, but as it is not a rehearsal for a particular event, there is snow and ice on the ground, the rehearsal is after dark, and the wind chill is in the teens, which means any slush will turn to ice, I felt it was more important to stay safe. I am basically healthy and fit for someone my age, but I would describe myself as "orthopedically unstable" in that I have already had one fracture requiring surgery, one of my legs is shorter than the other, which means I don't have good balance, so I am a fall risk, and at my age with my history a fall could lead to another fracture which could mean another hospitalization or at least a lot of lost time from work if I couldn't type. I already walk with a cane when there's snow on the ground, and I try to avoid going out after dark if there's snow on the ground.
About a week ago, my partner said how much she missed caroling. Really, the only times she can leave the house (escorted or unescorted) is probably between 11 and 3, certainly at this time of the year. It's hard for her to get herself together in the morning, and she never is out after dark. So that rules out church services. They are either in the morning or the evening. So she said someone had suggested that she ask me to come with a hymnal and sing carols with her. She was very hesitant about asking; she asked would I "mind"? That almost broke my heart. Of course I wouldn't mind!! So Saturday we did a little caroling. She has COPD and has almost no voice at all, but she poured herself into it and it made her happy. Isn't that what it's all about?
Some friends of mine posted pictures of themselves on Facebook showing them caroling in groups (this was part of a photo exercise the church gave us: one word Advent devotionals where we posted a picture every day in response to a word prompt, and one of the words was "caroling".) The only picture I had was the Youtube video of me singing theWagner "Angel" so I reposted that. I suppose it wasn't very jolly. It had gotten a lot of "likes" (on Facebook - the Youtube like dislike feature had been disabled) originally but only got one this time.
This made me a bit wistful, and I thought of how much joy people have going caroling (I suppose some of our choir singing over this season would qualify there) and that there is a lot of joy to be had in life, and that I wished I were more open to it and less enamored of the spotlight, but I guess I am who I am. I seem to be feeling less bitter and envious. Although I think there are certain things that set me off, and they are not always what I think they will be. For example I don't care if someone else sings really well and gets recognition for that. There should be enough room in the universe (even the little universe of the church with its choir and soloists) for many talented people. I get put out if I feel the same people keep getting opportunities and there is no attempt made to make things equitable, or if there is a sense that there is some kind of exclusive club to which I don't belong. For example someone has turned up to sing "Rejoice Greatly" in one of the services and also sing with the sopranos (she sang with the sopranos on Good Friday). She is a member of the congregation and apparently used to do professional "church gigs" and sing with regional opera companies. But she is not snobby and cliquish (I would guess she is in her mid thirties) the way the man from the conservatory who is my age (the one with the rude wife) is. I have felt put out because every time some new young person from the conservatory turns up he gloms onto them and wants to know all about them, but has rarely even given me the time of day.
This past Sunday the pastor was preaching about Advent and said it is a time of waiting and expecting, and that for many people, expectations we have had are not met (I can say that again!) but that during this time of waiting perhaps we should let go of expectations and that maybe something will appear that will surprise us.
So maybe this journey that began with my singing "Mon Coeur" and getting hot under the collar over The Mentor will end not with my being a singing star, even a small one, but with my finding a family and meaningful life in this church, even though I am not a Baptised Christian.
But I'm not quite finished with Carmen.
About a week ago, my partner said how much she missed caroling. Really, the only times she can leave the house (escorted or unescorted) is probably between 11 and 3, certainly at this time of the year. It's hard for her to get herself together in the morning, and she never is out after dark. So that rules out church services. They are either in the morning or the evening. So she said someone had suggested that she ask me to come with a hymnal and sing carols with her. She was very hesitant about asking; she asked would I "mind"? That almost broke my heart. Of course I wouldn't mind!! So Saturday we did a little caroling. She has COPD and has almost no voice at all, but she poured herself into it and it made her happy. Isn't that what it's all about?
Some friends of mine posted pictures of themselves on Facebook showing them caroling in groups (this was part of a photo exercise the church gave us: one word Advent devotionals where we posted a picture every day in response to a word prompt, and one of the words was "caroling".) The only picture I had was the Youtube video of me singing theWagner "Angel" so I reposted that. I suppose it wasn't very jolly. It had gotten a lot of "likes" (on Facebook - the Youtube like dislike feature had been disabled) originally but only got one this time.
This made me a bit wistful, and I thought of how much joy people have going caroling (I suppose some of our choir singing over this season would qualify there) and that there is a lot of joy to be had in life, and that I wished I were more open to it and less enamored of the spotlight, but I guess I am who I am. I seem to be feeling less bitter and envious. Although I think there are certain things that set me off, and they are not always what I think they will be. For example I don't care if someone else sings really well and gets recognition for that. There should be enough room in the universe (even the little universe of the church with its choir and soloists) for many talented people. I get put out if I feel the same people keep getting opportunities and there is no attempt made to make things equitable, or if there is a sense that there is some kind of exclusive club to which I don't belong. For example someone has turned up to sing "Rejoice Greatly" in one of the services and also sing with the sopranos (she sang with the sopranos on Good Friday). She is a member of the congregation and apparently used to do professional "church gigs" and sing with regional opera companies. But she is not snobby and cliquish (I would guess she is in her mid thirties) the way the man from the conservatory who is my age (the one with the rude wife) is. I have felt put out because every time some new young person from the conservatory turns up he gloms onto them and wants to know all about them, but has rarely even given me the time of day.
This past Sunday the pastor was preaching about Advent and said it is a time of waiting and expecting, and that for many people, expectations we have had are not met (I can say that again!) but that during this time of waiting perhaps we should let go of expectations and that maybe something will appear that will surprise us.
So maybe this journey that began with my singing "Mon Coeur" and getting hot under the collar over The Mentor will end not with my being a singing star, even a small one, but with my finding a family and meaningful life in this church, even though I am not a Baptised Christian.
But I'm not quite finished with Carmen.
Tuesday, October 1, 2013
Tra la la
Just dropping in to say, yes, I am still singing.
But I do feel ten pounds lighter not having certain people/blogs/online groups on my reading list. If I want to read things from singers and voice teachers I want to hear about roles they're singing, vocal technique, repertoire choices and interpretation, or health tips, and that's it. Let's leave the dishing to the Queens in the Parterre box.
I have gone back to work on Carmen. I have not heard back from the woman who produced the September concert regarding whether and when I can use the performance space, but I know right now she is busy with other things. She made a genuine offer and seemed to like my project.
My teacher is going to ask the tenor who sang in my Verdi concert, who is singing Don Jose somewhere, if he would be interested in this project. I need a tenor, a reader, and a venue, and that's it.
At my lesson today we worked on the Seguidilla. I had made some headway with the B, and it had all slipped away after I didn't sing the piece for a while. Now I feel I am on top of it again, but I need to nail down what I learned today. Also, working on the "Chanson Boheme" I can really see how much tension I have in my jaw/tongue (although not as much as I had in the past) because all that "tra la la-ing" is hard for me. He gave me some pointers about that as well, particularly practicing singing/saying/mouthing "lalalala" without moving my jaw, which is not easy. Certainly the piece sounded much better in my lesson that it did this week when I was practicing.
There are some minor annoyances of course. There was a ready made alto solo in the choral piece from Judas Maccabeus, but the choir director said he is going to have all the altos sing that. So I feel there is a double standard. We continue apace with the endless spirituals with the obligatory high solo descant (I think I have sung backup to 10 or 15 of these in the past 3 or 4 years), but the one time there is a solo for a lower voice we are not doing it??? I still don't know which part I am singing (the soprano part only goes up to a G and the alto part doesn't go below middle C so I could sing either), so I haven't worked on the piece.
On a more positive and enlightening note, I had an interesting talk with a woman at church about how I am not the only one getting tired of all the talks by superachievers (not just in music; it just happens that I haven't attended the others). I don't want to say too much because some people from the church may read this blog, but it is an important issue with regard to how I feel. One reason I love this church (in addition to the music) is the very strong message they give about charity toward the poor and the outcast. They have a soup kitchen and food pantry, which is one reason I make an annual donation. But often the poor are spoken of as "other". I mean *I'm* poor, for Pete's sake, and I am taking care of someone who is really poor, aka on Food Stamps.
I think it might behoove them (although as I am not a member of the church, only of the choir, I don't feel it's my place to say something) to ask someone to talk about what it's like to be a waiter, a harried administrative assistant, or a single Mom working at a low wage office job, not just what it's like to be a Broadway producer, a star in a musical, or a banker on Wall Street. That's one thing I love about 12 step programs. Everyone's story is considered equally worthy of being told.
Well, that's my two cents.
But I do feel ten pounds lighter not having certain people/blogs/online groups on my reading list. If I want to read things from singers and voice teachers I want to hear about roles they're singing, vocal technique, repertoire choices and interpretation, or health tips, and that's it. Let's leave the dishing to the Queens in the Parterre box.
I have gone back to work on Carmen. I have not heard back from the woman who produced the September concert regarding whether and when I can use the performance space, but I know right now she is busy with other things. She made a genuine offer and seemed to like my project.
My teacher is going to ask the tenor who sang in my Verdi concert, who is singing Don Jose somewhere, if he would be interested in this project. I need a tenor, a reader, and a venue, and that's it.
At my lesson today we worked on the Seguidilla. I had made some headway with the B, and it had all slipped away after I didn't sing the piece for a while. Now I feel I am on top of it again, but I need to nail down what I learned today. Also, working on the "Chanson Boheme" I can really see how much tension I have in my jaw/tongue (although not as much as I had in the past) because all that "tra la la-ing" is hard for me. He gave me some pointers about that as well, particularly practicing singing/saying/mouthing "lalalala" without moving my jaw, which is not easy. Certainly the piece sounded much better in my lesson that it did this week when I was practicing.
There are some minor annoyances of course. There was a ready made alto solo in the choral piece from Judas Maccabeus, but the choir director said he is going to have all the altos sing that. So I feel there is a double standard. We continue apace with the endless spirituals with the obligatory high solo descant (I think I have sung backup to 10 or 15 of these in the past 3 or 4 years), but the one time there is a solo for a lower voice we are not doing it??? I still don't know which part I am singing (the soprano part only goes up to a G and the alto part doesn't go below middle C so I could sing either), so I haven't worked on the piece.
On a more positive and enlightening note, I had an interesting talk with a woman at church about how I am not the only one getting tired of all the talks by superachievers (not just in music; it just happens that I haven't attended the others). I don't want to say too much because some people from the church may read this blog, but it is an important issue with regard to how I feel. One reason I love this church (in addition to the music) is the very strong message they give about charity toward the poor and the outcast. They have a soup kitchen and food pantry, which is one reason I make an annual donation. But often the poor are spoken of as "other". I mean *I'm* poor, for Pete's sake, and I am taking care of someone who is really poor, aka on Food Stamps.
I think it might behoove them (although as I am not a member of the church, only of the choir, I don't feel it's my place to say something) to ask someone to talk about what it's like to be a waiter, a harried administrative assistant, or a single Mom working at a low wage office job, not just what it's like to be a Broadway producer, a star in a musical, or a banker on Wall Street. That's one thing I love about 12 step programs. Everyone's story is considered equally worthy of being told.
Well, that's my two cents.
Monday, September 9, 2013
Home Safe?
This post is not about singing. Not really.
On Saturday I celebrated 38 years of sobriety. A few weeks ago, my partner and I started going to a meeting in her neighborhood. I hadn't been to a meeting since 2005 or thereabouts. Even as this program had saved my life, after a while I got turned off. 2004-2005 were pivotal years for me. If you read this post (if you haven't already) you will see why.
I tried going back to meetings then (where I always grabbed for help) but the one available at lunch hour was packed with unemployed young people, I always came late (lunch hour? work? duh?) and so never got called on. The conversation was mostly about drugs, there was lots of slang and profanity, and as a 50something wearing a suit with long term sobriety I was not perceived as needing help. So I got help from the Well Spouse instead. And from blogging communities, and later, an in-person caregiver support group.
When my partner and I went to the Unitarian Church in 2003, we had hoped that that would be an extension of our spiritual life in 12 step programs and that it would be something that would bring us together during a difficult time. I was burnt out from working in a stressful high level management job, she had just sort of opted out and spent the day in bed, waiting for me to come home (often at 8 pm) and make dinner. Instead our experience with that church tore us further apart. I was swept off my feet by someone who got me to sing (the sexual aspect of all this was really the messenger, not, as I had thought at the time, the message), a dream I had deferred but never forgotten, and I became someone else.
From time to time, I hope that the spiritual messages I get from the Lutheran church will spark something beyond my love of the music there (and opportunities to sing my oratorio repertoire) but these sparks come quickly, and fizzle out quickly. Recently my main feeling at that church is one of being subsumed beneath all the superachievers. Everyone either has a music degree, a theater degree, or the means to travel all over the world. At the panel discussion a few months ago that sparked so much envy and self-dissatisfaction, they were able to assemble a Broadway producer, a Broadway company manager, a high profile Broadway actress, and several recent conservatory graduates. A 60something with a nice voice who sings an occasional solo and produces a concert once a year just didn't make the cut.
The meeting I started going to is not on the Upper West Side, where, no doubt, I would encounter the same demographic that I see at the church. It was in South Murray Hill, where my partner lives, which is a lot more low key. True, market rent apartments are as expensive there as anywhere else in Manhattan, but the population is a lot less flashy. And among people my age, there are many in lower middle income, uninteresting professions (or retired from them), who moved there in the 1960s or 70s and stayed.
Interestingly, I felt a lot more "spiritual" there than at church. I shared my experiences of being 38 years sober, and listened to other people share about their lives. Not once did I hear about where anyone went to school, or even what they did for a living. For the first time in a long while I didn't feel "Well, I'm only a copyeditor", "I only have a BA from Hunter College", "I'm only an unpaid church soloist".
If I am looking for a spiritual home, maybe that is it, regardless of where I choose to make music.
I can hardly wait to go back there, holding my partner's tiny frail arm, to do God's work.
On Saturday I celebrated 38 years of sobriety. A few weeks ago, my partner and I started going to a meeting in her neighborhood. I hadn't been to a meeting since 2005 or thereabouts. Even as this program had saved my life, after a while I got turned off. 2004-2005 were pivotal years for me. If you read this post (if you haven't already) you will see why.
I tried going back to meetings then (where I always grabbed for help) but the one available at lunch hour was packed with unemployed young people, I always came late (lunch hour? work? duh?) and so never got called on. The conversation was mostly about drugs, there was lots of slang and profanity, and as a 50something wearing a suit with long term sobriety I was not perceived as needing help. So I got help from the Well Spouse instead. And from blogging communities, and later, an in-person caregiver support group.
When my partner and I went to the Unitarian Church in 2003, we had hoped that that would be an extension of our spiritual life in 12 step programs and that it would be something that would bring us together during a difficult time. I was burnt out from working in a stressful high level management job, she had just sort of opted out and spent the day in bed, waiting for me to come home (often at 8 pm) and make dinner. Instead our experience with that church tore us further apart. I was swept off my feet by someone who got me to sing (the sexual aspect of all this was really the messenger, not, as I had thought at the time, the message), a dream I had deferred but never forgotten, and I became someone else.
From time to time, I hope that the spiritual messages I get from the Lutheran church will spark something beyond my love of the music there (and opportunities to sing my oratorio repertoire) but these sparks come quickly, and fizzle out quickly. Recently my main feeling at that church is one of being subsumed beneath all the superachievers. Everyone either has a music degree, a theater degree, or the means to travel all over the world. At the panel discussion a few months ago that sparked so much envy and self-dissatisfaction, they were able to assemble a Broadway producer, a Broadway company manager, a high profile Broadway actress, and several recent conservatory graduates. A 60something with a nice voice who sings an occasional solo and produces a concert once a year just didn't make the cut.
The meeting I started going to is not on the Upper West Side, where, no doubt, I would encounter the same demographic that I see at the church. It was in South Murray Hill, where my partner lives, which is a lot more low key. True, market rent apartments are as expensive there as anywhere else in Manhattan, but the population is a lot less flashy. And among people my age, there are many in lower middle income, uninteresting professions (or retired from them), who moved there in the 1960s or 70s and stayed.
Interestingly, I felt a lot more "spiritual" there than at church. I shared my experiences of being 38 years sober, and listened to other people share about their lives. Not once did I hear about where anyone went to school, or even what they did for a living. For the first time in a long while I didn't feel "Well, I'm only a copyeditor", "I only have a BA from Hunter College", "I'm only an unpaid church soloist".
If I am looking for a spiritual home, maybe that is it, regardless of where I choose to make music.
I can hardly wait to go back there, holding my partner's tiny frail arm, to do God's work.
Sunday, May 26, 2013
Jaded
I had a series of experiences over the past few days that had me on an emotional roller coaster, and led me to the sense that in addition to being lonely (I am certifiably not depressed), I am extremely jaded.
Most people I know who are happy seem to be people whose lives have exceeded their expectations. Either they grew up poor and surprised themselves by becoming comfortably off, or they were the first (or the only) person in their family to go to college and are impressed by their own knowledge and intelligence (I don't mean in an arrogant way, I mean in truly finding these things a source of pleasure), or they have moved to New York from somewhere else and continue to be amazed by all the possibilities.
Thursday night I went to hear a Skype conversation with a young couple from the church who have moved to Jerusalem to be "missionaries". I put the word in quotes because to me it sounds slightly quaint, or possibly iffy, if "missionary" means trying to convert people. But I was assured that Lutheran missionaries do not try to convert people, they only go where there are already Lutheran churches and try to help. These two young people are good. Truly good. I love them very much. So much that sometimes I want to cry. I didn't grow up with people who were good. I grew up with people who were ethical and generous, but that was always tempered with a good dose of intellectual snark. Almost as if that snark were a mandatory component of being intelligent. Then there were the people who rebelled against that by being touchy feely in a hippie-ish kind of way that I found silly. The media seems to think that this younger generation (is it Gen X or Gen Y? I can't keep track?) invented "irony" but believe me, it was alive and well when my mother was growing up in the 1930s. My mother modeled herself on Dorothy Parker with a dash of Elizabeth Bennett thrown in.
After I came home Thursday night I felt spiritually renewed, feeling that knowing those young people and seeing their joy in doing God's work had changed me somehow. My life would be so much happier and simpler if I wanted to be good instead of wanting to be a star (even in a tiny venue), but I don't.
Then on Friday night I heard Audra McDonald sing Make Someone Happy and thought, "why can't I just be happy with that? All the fighting and friends with benefits aside, I have made one person happy for a long, long time, and she has made me happy. Not everyone has that. Why can't that make me happy? Why can't it be enough?"
Lastly, I saw an interesting post on Facebook, from a woman from the church I am friendly with, who said her life was so rich and varied "beyond my expectations, coming from a small town" and you see that is the problem. How can I be happy with anything when I've been up to my eyeballs in the best of everything since I was 5 years old? My parents were not rich, and in fact after my father died my mother and I were poor, but they/she managed to take me to the ballet, the theater, concerts, museums, etc. so that by the time I was in High School I had seen it all. What was left for me to do that could ever even live up to those standards?
For a while I could be a Lesbian activist. Not many people were doing that, certainly not any women who looked like me, and it was considered edgy, different, pioneerish. Maybe I was my own kind of missionary, now that I think of it. Now that's gone.
Will I ever have the sense of wonder and excitement that people have to whom things are new? I just don't think so.
And it's a two way street. I do not impress anyone and very little impresses me. I suppose the only thing that impresses me is the level of skill, expertise, and ambition that so many very young people have. They start out starring in their chosen endeavor in High School (when I was in High School I was so overwhelmed with eating disorders, substance abuse, sexual conflict and apathy I could barely maintain a B average) and keep it up through prestigious schools. Now it's true that many of them will probably not be any better off at 62 (I will be 63 before you know it) than I am, but what I'm seeing is the beginning of the story not the last chapters.
So now I am off to my choir "gig". (Some people laugh at me for calling it that, as I don't get paid, but that's tough nuggies. I work as hard as any paid choir singer.) This piece has 8 parts and last Wednesday the choir director actually publicly noticed the "second sopranos" and said thank you for staying on a difficult part. That was a first. His specialty is that any compliments or criticisms are always very general. I remember a friend of mine (another late starting classical singer) mentioning how her previous choir director "made a fuss" over her and another singer in that choir with training. Well, I guess if the church is on the Upper West Side of Manhattan, good amateur singers don't impress anyone.
ETA: After rereading this I realize that it needs some clarification. Obviously I have not seen and done it all. In fact, I have been to very few places, far fewer than most people I know. There are countries, cultures, animals, scenery, and many many other things here in the United States and abroad that I have not seen. What I meant, was basically two things. First, that having grown up in New York, I have seen and done everything there is to see and do here, the best and the worst, the scariest, the funniest, the most upscale and the most gutter. So 9/11 excepted, there is nothing I have seen here as an adult, on the street, on the subway, or in a theater, that I find surprising, shocking, or astounding, in a good or a bad way. And - and this is more to the point - there is absolutely nothing in my daily life that even approaches the tamer dreams or expectations I had growing up, let alone exceeding them. I do fewer different kinds of things at work or at play than about 95% of the people I grew up with or those I know now. So short of suddenly having the time, money, and freedom to travel, I can't think of anything that is likely to cross my path that will take my breath away, surprise me, or astonish me. Nor is there anything among my meager accomplishments that is likely to amaze or astonish anyone else. Which is very sad.
Most people I know who are happy seem to be people whose lives have exceeded their expectations. Either they grew up poor and surprised themselves by becoming comfortably off, or they were the first (or the only) person in their family to go to college and are impressed by their own knowledge and intelligence (I don't mean in an arrogant way, I mean in truly finding these things a source of pleasure), or they have moved to New York from somewhere else and continue to be amazed by all the possibilities.
Thursday night I went to hear a Skype conversation with a young couple from the church who have moved to Jerusalem to be "missionaries". I put the word in quotes because to me it sounds slightly quaint, or possibly iffy, if "missionary" means trying to convert people. But I was assured that Lutheran missionaries do not try to convert people, they only go where there are already Lutheran churches and try to help. These two young people are good. Truly good. I love them very much. So much that sometimes I want to cry. I didn't grow up with people who were good. I grew up with people who were ethical and generous, but that was always tempered with a good dose of intellectual snark. Almost as if that snark were a mandatory component of being intelligent. Then there were the people who rebelled against that by being touchy feely in a hippie-ish kind of way that I found silly. The media seems to think that this younger generation (is it Gen X or Gen Y? I can't keep track?) invented "irony" but believe me, it was alive and well when my mother was growing up in the 1930s. My mother modeled herself on Dorothy Parker with a dash of Elizabeth Bennett thrown in.
After I came home Thursday night I felt spiritually renewed, feeling that knowing those young people and seeing their joy in doing God's work had changed me somehow. My life would be so much happier and simpler if I wanted to be good instead of wanting to be a star (even in a tiny venue), but I don't.
Then on Friday night I heard Audra McDonald sing Make Someone Happy and thought, "why can't I just be happy with that? All the fighting and friends with benefits aside, I have made one person happy for a long, long time, and she has made me happy. Not everyone has that. Why can't that make me happy? Why can't it be enough?"
Lastly, I saw an interesting post on Facebook, from a woman from the church I am friendly with, who said her life was so rich and varied "beyond my expectations, coming from a small town" and you see that is the problem. How can I be happy with anything when I've been up to my eyeballs in the best of everything since I was 5 years old? My parents were not rich, and in fact after my father died my mother and I were poor, but they/she managed to take me to the ballet, the theater, concerts, museums, etc. so that by the time I was in High School I had seen it all. What was left for me to do that could ever even live up to those standards?
For a while I could be a Lesbian activist. Not many people were doing that, certainly not any women who looked like me, and it was considered edgy, different, pioneerish. Maybe I was my own kind of missionary, now that I think of it. Now that's gone.
Will I ever have the sense of wonder and excitement that people have to whom things are new? I just don't think so.
And it's a two way street. I do not impress anyone and very little impresses me. I suppose the only thing that impresses me is the level of skill, expertise, and ambition that so many very young people have. They start out starring in their chosen endeavor in High School (when I was in High School I was so overwhelmed with eating disorders, substance abuse, sexual conflict and apathy I could barely maintain a B average) and keep it up through prestigious schools. Now it's true that many of them will probably not be any better off at 62 (I will be 63 before you know it) than I am, but what I'm seeing is the beginning of the story not the last chapters.
So now I am off to my choir "gig". (Some people laugh at me for calling it that, as I don't get paid, but that's tough nuggies. I work as hard as any paid choir singer.) This piece has 8 parts and last Wednesday the choir director actually publicly noticed the "second sopranos" and said thank you for staying on a difficult part. That was a first. His specialty is that any compliments or criticisms are always very general. I remember a friend of mine (another late starting classical singer) mentioning how her previous choir director "made a fuss" over her and another singer in that choir with training. Well, I guess if the church is on the Upper West Side of Manhattan, good amateur singers don't impress anyone.
ETA: After rereading this I realize that it needs some clarification. Obviously I have not seen and done it all. In fact, I have been to very few places, far fewer than most people I know. There are countries, cultures, animals, scenery, and many many other things here in the United States and abroad that I have not seen. What I meant, was basically two things. First, that having grown up in New York, I have seen and done everything there is to see and do here, the best and the worst, the scariest, the funniest, the most upscale and the most gutter. So 9/11 excepted, there is nothing I have seen here as an adult, on the street, on the subway, or in a theater, that I find surprising, shocking, or astounding, in a good or a bad way. And - and this is more to the point - there is absolutely nothing in my daily life that even approaches the tamer dreams or expectations I had growing up, let alone exceeding them. I do fewer different kinds of things at work or at play than about 95% of the people I grew up with or those I know now. So short of suddenly having the time, money, and freedom to travel, I can't think of anything that is likely to cross my path that will take my breath away, surprise me, or astonish me. Nor is there anything among my meager accomplishments that is likely to amaze or astonish anyone else. Which is very sad.
Saturday, January 12, 2013
Requiem Update and the Power of Prayer
First, just let me say that I have gotten my Requiem bass. He is a friend of my teacher's, whom my teacher was hesitant to recommend, because he wasn't sure this person would sing for free, but the soprano had suggested him at our last rehearsal, so I asked my teacher for his contact information, got it, sent an email, and the bass responded saying "Any friend of [my teacher] is a friend of mine" and that yes, he would love to do it because he thinks he might be singing the Requiem with an orchestra soon, so this would be a great chance to run through it!
So you never know how people are going to react.
So this Requiem will have two professional singers, one experienced avocational singer with a stunning voice, and me.
I can be very proud of myself.
Things are falling into place. The marketing will be happening (Lent event flyers, church bulletins, newsletter, church Web site and Facebook page), and people at the church are really excited about it.
I mention prayer because as I said in an earlier post, before I embarked on this project I got down on my knees and prayed. It seems strange that this daughter of two atheists believes so strongly in prayer, but I do.
I prayed for God to bless this endeavor, that it was for me but it was also for the church, a chance for people to hear a great sacred work during Lent, and money to feed hungry people in the neighborhood.
I still know there's many a slip twixt the as they say. People get sick, plans change, my eldercare situation could throw me a curve ball. But I can't think about those things. I have to believe that if God wants me to sing this I will.
And a woman who is a well known voice teacher sent me a friend request on Facebook, which of course I said "yes!" to. I am extremely flattered and have no idea what made her think of me.
So you never know how people are going to react.
So this Requiem will have two professional singers, one experienced avocational singer with a stunning voice, and me.
I can be very proud of myself.
Things are falling into place. The marketing will be happening (Lent event flyers, church bulletins, newsletter, church Web site and Facebook page), and people at the church are really excited about it.
I mention prayer because as I said in an earlier post, before I embarked on this project I got down on my knees and prayed. It seems strange that this daughter of two atheists believes so strongly in prayer, but I do.
I prayed for God to bless this endeavor, that it was for me but it was also for the church, a chance for people to hear a great sacred work during Lent, and money to feed hungry people in the neighborhood.
I still know there's many a slip twixt the as they say. People get sick, plans change, my eldercare situation could throw me a curve ball. But I can't think about those things. I have to believe that if God wants me to sing this I will.
And a woman who is a well known voice teacher sent me a friend request on Facebook, which of course I said "yes!" to. I am extremely flattered and have no idea what made her think of me.
Saturday, September 22, 2012
Pondering What is Really Important
Thursday my partner was rushed to the hospital with weakness, dizziness, and a fever. She may have a kidney infection, she may have pneumonia. Today she is worse. I sat by her bedside from 3 to 9 pm. She was delirious a lot of the time. She didn't want to eat. I kept saying to myself I would go home when she had dinner, but she didn't want dinner.
I finally left when she was able to pull herself together and tell me to leave. Also, I like and trust the night nurse.
I held her hand and she said she loved me. At one point she said "I have to go" and it sent chills through me. I have edited enough articles about palliative care (not to mention sitting at my mother's death bed) that I know those words could mean what they say.
I cried with the nurse, who said no, she doesn't think my partner is near death, only that she has a bad fever.
A month after we first got together, in December of 1976, we each had pneumonia. Actually her fever was higher then than it is now. Hers was 105, mine was 102. I wasn't in the hospital, but after taking her there I was told to stay home. Back then I was still smoking.
Yesterday when I got home from the hospital at 6:30 (when she was not as bad as she was today) I tried to sing through some of my big arias and was too tired. The whole back of my throat felt raw from lack of sleep and bad speaking habits.
If I (or anyone else) wonders why I keep singing in that choir that doesn't pay me, here's why.
I posted something on Facebook about my situation (being discreet, because my partner does not know I use Facebook) and in less than an hour a group from the church got together to make a prayer circle for me and for my partner, even though I am not Christian. This is what is important. If I were singing a big role with a small opera group (basically the extent of my ambition at this point), that would not have happened. People might not even care all that much.
Tomorrow morning, barring a crisis, I am going to sing with the choir.
Requiem plans continue.
But right now I know what my priorities are.
I finally left when she was able to pull herself together and tell me to leave. Also, I like and trust the night nurse.
I held her hand and she said she loved me. At one point she said "I have to go" and it sent chills through me. I have edited enough articles about palliative care (not to mention sitting at my mother's death bed) that I know those words could mean what they say.
I cried with the nurse, who said no, she doesn't think my partner is near death, only that she has a bad fever.
A month after we first got together, in December of 1976, we each had pneumonia. Actually her fever was higher then than it is now. Hers was 105, mine was 102. I wasn't in the hospital, but after taking her there I was told to stay home. Back then I was still smoking.
Yesterday when I got home from the hospital at 6:30 (when she was not as bad as she was today) I tried to sing through some of my big arias and was too tired. The whole back of my throat felt raw from lack of sleep and bad speaking habits.
If I (or anyone else) wonders why I keep singing in that choir that doesn't pay me, here's why.
I posted something on Facebook about my situation (being discreet, because my partner does not know I use Facebook) and in less than an hour a group from the church got together to make a prayer circle for me and for my partner, even though I am not Christian. This is what is important. If I were singing a big role with a small opera group (basically the extent of my ambition at this point), that would not have happened. People might not even care all that much.
Tomorrow morning, barring a crisis, I am going to sing with the choir.
Requiem plans continue.
But right now I know what my priorities are.
Monday, April 25, 2011
The Ghosts of Easters Past
Easter was never a big thing with me, which makes sense, as I am not Christian. Being raised as a secular socialist I was not strictly Jewish either - certainly neither my mother nor her parents observed Passover.
I did, however, fall into the habit of going to church to hear music on Easter. Mostly it was my partner's idea, but I went along, perhaps in memory of being taken to church on Easter by my mother - to hear music of course.
Easter 2003
This was the year that we got up too late to go to one of the Episcpal churches that featured good music, so we went to the local Unitarian church instead. I had fond memories of singing in the Unitarian church choir in Brooklyn, which at that time did have quite a bit of classical music. My more recent brush with Unitarianism had been less positive - I had attended a service at a church in Provincetown that was full of what I term Unitarianism's "hippie-ish silliness", a blend of tiresome pop psych and music from the druggie sixties, recycled as something "spiritual". The minister at the 2003 Easter service (whom I recognized as having once been a well-known journalist - which is what she should have stuck with, being a superb writer and an extremely unempathic person) said "even if you don't believe that Jesus rose from the dead, it's still a nice story". This grabbed us because we don't believe that Jesus rose from the dead, but were pleased that the minister referred to this story, as it was Easter. My partner and I became members of this church.
Easter 2004
Falling after the life-changing events of February 15, 2004, this Easter featured my singing a duet by Mendelssohn called "They have taken away my Lord" (Easter was the only time Jesus was allowed to be referenced in this church, which I, despite my atheistic parentage, found quite silly) with The Mentor Who Shall Not Be Discussed. There was lots of flirting and he made numerous jokes about his personal identification with Mary Magdelene. The choir sang a piece called "The Polish Easter Carol" in which I was bullied into singing a high B flat at the end. I am not a soprano, certainly not a high one, but I was the closest thing they could find to one in this amateur choir. That note loomed before me throughout the entire service.
Easter 2005
By now my relationship with The Mentor had become quite tarnished. He agreed to let me sing "I Know That My Redeemer Liveth" in the service. There was quite a brouhaha about this, which I have discussed in this post which as I said represented exactly the sort of left-wing provincialism that I detest. But what I have not yet mentioned was the Sondheim-torturing-Stritch singing "Here's to the Ladies Who Lunch" ringer that The Mentor took me through the Saturday before. I probably sang "Redeemer" 17 or 18 times in his studio (who sings something that many times the day before a performance?) and each time he panned it, if not for one reason, then for another. After I sang it Easter Sunday, he put his thumbs down and made a face. So much for the first principle of Unitarianism "Belief in the inherent dignity and worth of every human being". No, I don't think I sounded bad, but I was so exhausted that when I went for the High B flat in the Easter Carol nothing came out. Oh, and did I mention I hadn't eaten anything the night before but had spent the entire night crying?
Easter 2006
I had a paying job singing the soprano line in the Halleluia Chorus, somewhere in New Jersey. Because I was getting paid, I felt entitled to sing as loud as I needed to to keep my larynx down, and actually got through the entire bloody piece without a mishap.
Easter 2007-2010
At the Lutheran church. Singing the soprano part in the Halleluia Chorus. Made gunshy by the glares that told me to keep the volume down, I was never able to sing all of the following: the High A on "he shall reign", and the last two rounds of Kings and Lords on the F and the G. If I was lucky I got two out of three. I coined the name "my annual battle with the KingznLordz"
****************************************************************
This Easter I decided to say goodbye to the KingznLordz forever and ever. With two trained coloraturas in the choir, why should I kill myself? The alto part is not much fun either, for other reasons. Too low, with nothing to show off my lovely mezzo legato line. Oh well. We never use it as a choir anthem anyhow. It's mostly on the program because the congregation knows it.
I went to the Museum of Modern Art with my partner for the first time in almost five months, ate too much gelato, and had a sleepover.
Tomorrow I am getting back to Amneris and Azucena. If I want to sing high notes, that's the rep where I should be singing them.
I did, however, fall into the habit of going to church to hear music on Easter. Mostly it was my partner's idea, but I went along, perhaps in memory of being taken to church on Easter by my mother - to hear music of course.
Easter 2003
This was the year that we got up too late to go to one of the Episcpal churches that featured good music, so we went to the local Unitarian church instead. I had fond memories of singing in the Unitarian church choir in Brooklyn, which at that time did have quite a bit of classical music. My more recent brush with Unitarianism had been less positive - I had attended a service at a church in Provincetown that was full of what I term Unitarianism's "hippie-ish silliness", a blend of tiresome pop psych and music from the druggie sixties, recycled as something "spiritual". The minister at the 2003 Easter service (whom I recognized as having once been a well-known journalist - which is what she should have stuck with, being a superb writer and an extremely unempathic person) said "even if you don't believe that Jesus rose from the dead, it's still a nice story". This grabbed us because we don't believe that Jesus rose from the dead, but were pleased that the minister referred to this story, as it was Easter. My partner and I became members of this church.
Easter 2004
Falling after the life-changing events of February 15, 2004, this Easter featured my singing a duet by Mendelssohn called "They have taken away my Lord" (Easter was the only time Jesus was allowed to be referenced in this church, which I, despite my atheistic parentage, found quite silly) with The Mentor Who Shall Not Be Discussed. There was lots of flirting and he made numerous jokes about his personal identification with Mary Magdelene. The choir sang a piece called "The Polish Easter Carol" in which I was bullied into singing a high B flat at the end. I am not a soprano, certainly not a high one, but I was the closest thing they could find to one in this amateur choir. That note loomed before me throughout the entire service.
Easter 2005
By now my relationship with The Mentor had become quite tarnished. He agreed to let me sing "I Know That My Redeemer Liveth" in the service. There was quite a brouhaha about this, which I have discussed in this post which as I said represented exactly the sort of left-wing provincialism that I detest. But what I have not yet mentioned was the Sondheim-torturing-Stritch singing "Here's to the Ladies Who Lunch" ringer that The Mentor took me through the Saturday before. I probably sang "Redeemer" 17 or 18 times in his studio (who sings something that many times the day before a performance?) and each time he panned it, if not for one reason, then for another. After I sang it Easter Sunday, he put his thumbs down and made a face. So much for the first principle of Unitarianism "Belief in the inherent dignity and worth of every human being". No, I don't think I sounded bad, but I was so exhausted that when I went for the High B flat in the Easter Carol nothing came out. Oh, and did I mention I hadn't eaten anything the night before but had spent the entire night crying?
Easter 2006
I had a paying job singing the soprano line in the Halleluia Chorus, somewhere in New Jersey. Because I was getting paid, I felt entitled to sing as loud as I needed to to keep my larynx down, and actually got through the entire bloody piece without a mishap.
Easter 2007-2010
At the Lutheran church. Singing the soprano part in the Halleluia Chorus. Made gunshy by the glares that told me to keep the volume down, I was never able to sing all of the following: the High A on "he shall reign", and the last two rounds of Kings and Lords on the F and the G. If I was lucky I got two out of three. I coined the name "my annual battle with the KingznLordz"
****************************************************************
This Easter I decided to say goodbye to the KingznLordz forever and ever. With two trained coloraturas in the choir, why should I kill myself? The alto part is not much fun either, for other reasons. Too low, with nothing to show off my lovely mezzo legato line. Oh well. We never use it as a choir anthem anyhow. It's mostly on the program because the congregation knows it.
I went to the Museum of Modern Art with my partner for the first time in almost five months, ate too much gelato, and had a sleepover.
Tomorrow I am getting back to Amneris and Azucena. If I want to sing high notes, that's the rep where I should be singing them.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)