Question about publishing

[hopeingod]

I have thought of loosening up the connection and looking around, but I prefer an introduction to a woman be made outside today's standards. Years ago, I participated in everything from newspaper ads to online dating clubs, and although I managed a few connections, three that last to this day, it is a tiresome approach. Plus, I really don't want to hurt my present girlfriend, despite her insistence on me becoming a consistent contributor to her large tribe of two daughters, one son, and ten grandchildren.

I am impressed. Not having known a real opera singer in my life, you seem to have experienced something a bit more advanced than college productions. I earned a BA in music in 1978, and so, as one might imagine, an introduction to all music genres was a requirement. In those days, I played an upright bass in the orchestra, and performed at numerous concerts, including several productions of what was termed "operettas." The experience was fun and some parts very challenging, but the thought of earning a living, or even turning such work into a steady sideline in Florida -- a state practically void of culture -- was impossible. I did get a taste of the genre and realize the effort it takes to make it all happen. After all, every conceivable part of music and art becomes a part of the production: songs, acting, musical performances, costumes, artistic backdrops, etc. It's very impressive.

Well, it's time for me to head out the door for work. Have a good one.
David

[moderntimes]

Thanks for the compliment. I started singing as a kid in my high church Episcopal choir and was reading music and singing Brahms, Haydn, Bach, etc. at the beginning, which locked me into a lifelong appreciation for classical music, particularly vocal. I continued to sing in chorales and choirs as an adult.

A friend recommended that I audition for the chorus of this small but professional opera company here in Houston. I made it and was in the chorus, then sought out pro lessons. A huge change... most people, untrained, have a range of about 2/3 octave. I could manage 1+ octave but when I got deep into pro lessons, I really learned how to sing for the first time ever. Prior to that it was spoof by comparison. Eventually I had a range of 3+ octaves, all in strong bass-baritone. And as part of the lessons I picked up diction for French, Italian. I already knew German and Latin.

Singing opera is hard! You memorize maybe 40 pages of music, get out on the stage wearing full makeup and costume, not just sing but sing loud and well (no microphones in opera!) and also interact w. the others on stage, move around, etc. But the joys are amazing!

My fave opera is Mozart's Marriage of Figaro and I was blessed to sing the role of Antonio the drunken gardener. A fine comic part but still musically challenging. To actually be singing in your fave opera and stand there on stage in the great finale, that glorious "Mozart Moment" of perfect music -- rapture!

[hopeingod]

Mozart is among my favorite classical composers, His sonatas were perfect, as were Vivaldi's, both of whom I invited into my bookstore stock room (oh yea, I owned a bookstore for five years in the early 80s) whilie I sorted through titles and smoked. The high kept me intense, an attitude I preferred when moving around so many boxes of books I bought from one estate or another.

That was in a time when I "read" music, which, in my case, was not entirely read, but memorized. I would check out of the library whatever it was that we were to perform in a couple of months. While listening to it play over my stereo, I'd mark my chart in pencil to point out subtitlties and notation, as well as store in memory parts that were far too fast for me to sight read.

I got a job performing as the Community Orchestra's first and only double bass chair (following my earning of a BA in literature; music, I thought, I knew well enough to forever be capable of sidelining). It was an odd time of my life then, being married briefly, and trying to regain a little bearing as to who I actually was/am.

You didn't happen to perform for J. G. Wentworth's commercial, did you? Once one has the ability to sing in three octaves, is that a given for the remainder of their lives, or as one ages, do the old windpipes block some of the range? That would be like loosing a part your body, wouldn't it? I guess it's better to have sung and lost than never to have sung at all.

[moderntimes]

No Wentworth commercial, although the singers in those ads actually do have pretty good operatic voices.

Re. music, as you can do, I "sight read", an acquired skill (unless you're Mozart) that surprisingly some musicians, singers mostly, don't have. The term "sight read" has 2 basic connotations, 1- the ability to see a sheet of music and play or sing it, "reading" the notes and of course knowing accidentals and a quarter note vs a half note. 2- the ability to "hear" music when you see the score, as did Salieri when he saw the pages of Mozart's music in "Amadeus". This is the more difficult of the two and takes practice, but it's like any skill, it can be learned. I can however do this, and I'll often pick up one of my 30 or so opera scores and "read" the music just like I was reading a book. A fun skill.

Some years ago I had a massive heart attack and the resultant depletion of my cardiac levels (permanent until they get stem cell therapy working in, oh, the next 25 years, ha ha). My air supply and stamina was essentially cut in half due to the cardio damage and so I had to give up my pro singing. I still sing at the occasional wedding or other party element, mostly Broadway classics (Some Enchanted Evening, etc) but I had to hang up my operatic spurs. Also I've got an irreversible degenerative arthritis that keeps me cane-dependent so stagework isn't possible either. Sigh.

Last big event I sang in was a gala production of "Carmina Burana", w. an 85 piece orchestra and 200 voice choir. Amazing energy there, I was dripping w. perspiration afterward. I still keep in touch w. my opera pals, however.

Incidentally during my heyday I also dated this soprano (opera is a babe magnet, believe me!) and I had a minor role in Rigoletto but she had the lead as Gilda, and each rehearsal or performance, each time she was murdered in the finale, I was reduced to tears. True.

Anyway, I still have all the skills, I just cannot provide the breath needed to create the needed volume for opera. And, a funny and very true story, my church choir director, a bit of a snob (you gotta really be a snob to stand out as one in an Episcopal high church environment, ha ha) "fired" me about 3 years ago because, as he said, my voice was so powerful (even after my heart thing) that I was drowning out the choir. I told him I'd sing softer and he said, no, as my voice was operatic regardless and didn't fit in his "Tudor" choir, which is pretty true, I guess -- it's a different "voice". So I sit in the congregation and sing and afterward, all the old ladies come up to me, "You have a lovely voice, you should join the choir!" and I just smile, "Tell that to the director" I think.

[hopeingod]

I've enjoyed our exchange. md. It seems, in some ways, we relate. My girlfriend's family gatherings, for me, are just that, cordial, which is never enough for her because I can never give enough. Give an inch, and she wants a mile. The proof that I actually love her is that I will not set aside any part of their family activities, whether they be nothing more than to watch the grandkids ride their bikes at one of those BMX race tracks.

I remember one night when I gave into attending a school program that included her grandkids showing off their art projects which were judged for prizes. It was easy to see the gymnasium was packed with a bunch of available women looking around for a newer catch. I'm no real catch, IMO, and yet a complete inspection of me was done even if I merely walked from one end of the room to the other. What a cattle yard!

My girlfriend lives on the other side of town and it's always me who drives to her apartment, ever since she chose to relocate -- she lived with me for three years -- in order to be closer to her grandkids. With my house paid off, as well as my vehicle, why would I want to move to her "better part of town" which would necessitate I sell my place and rent an apartment near her? It's all so ridiculous when I'm headed into retirement and don't want a lot of expenses, especially rent which there averages $800 to $1400 a month.

Over the past 20 years or so, I've had maybe five girlfriends. All had kids, little money, and endless challenges raising unsettled kids. The stories I could write about those years would fill a book. One of the girls, at fourteen, used to sneak out of her bedroom window to where someone was awaiting her to spend her nights earning "easy money." Nothing I could say, at any time while with any one of those women, meant a hill of beans. I had no say.

I have attempted to find a woman who is at the same place in life that I am, desirous of a simple life, without a lot of interference, but it is near impossible. It is as if God had predestined me, throughout my life, to attract nothing more than complex, struggling women who need a man to pay the bills and keep out of the way. University women, as I see it, are too young and far too dedicated to finding doctors and lawyers, not a fed. govt. worker who never wanted kids. Over the years, I can't count how many times I've had to pay a woman's way out of whatever struggle existed.

With the present one, things are just fine for me, just as long as it's just us. I wish it would remain that way. A simple woman with next to no family ambitions would be perfect for me. We could take cruises once in a while; she would have her hobbies and I'd have mine. Maybe we'd get a dog, take walks, go out to eat occasionally, and spent our days in peace and quiet with little to no interference. Yea, I know. It's a dream, right?

[moderntimes]

Well, so long as we're into Oprah confessional... my now live-in girlfriend and I actually get along quite well. Part of this is related to compromise and as you know, compromise won't work if it's predicated on a grudging alteration or adjustment. Compromise must be genuine and from the heart if it's to work.

Part is intellectual. My former girlfriend had no real ambitions for reading and her education was limited. She was bright, just typical gal who got married and had kids and worked her whole life. Amazingly, I turned her into an opera fan although she'd never really listened to classical music. I just took a chance and asked her if she'd like to see an opera (Houston Grand Opera, a top rank company) and they were doing one of my faves, Rigoletto. She said okay we'll give it a try and the production was superb, and the ending, where Rigoletto's daughter is murdered, is one of the most intense and dramatic in all of opera, was terrific. Well, my girlfriend was not only in tears but she had to go the the bathroom and sit in a stall and sob for nearly 10 minutes before she could gather herself. Apparently the art and the power of Verdi's music overwhelmed her and caught her unawares. She was then hooked. Next we saw Mozart's Magic Flute which she laughed all through, as should be. So we kept going to see the "classics" and she loved it, told her pals all about the production, the costumes, the singers, and so on. These were folks who'd not been exposed to "high art" as she'd not been, and they couldn't understand what she was so excited about -- a bunch of people yelling, as one friend said, to which she remarked "You got no idea"

People surprise you.

The woman I'm with now, a few years younger than I, lovely gal, funny and clever and good hearted, is a perfect companion and partner for me, in that she's also independent (no kids) and we spend much of our time on independent pursuits. It's been joked that there are two types of people in the world, people who walk into a room and turn on the TV, and people who walk in and turn it off. And they end up living together. That's us. But we actually love one another, which really counts.

[hopeingod]

The need for intellectual exchange throughout my day has always been there, no matter the woman I've been with. Only one had an education, she was stunning (beyond my ability to see how we connected at that level), had two girls in grade school, worked in a bank, but was totally without anything more than motherhood and financial concerns.

All the others have been without educations or desires to learn anything more than the usual homemaking stuff. They all knew me as a man who liked books and all that books represent: reading material, education, food for thought, overstock sales, home decor, collections, and more. But, to them, books are/were nothing more than just something to dust, which is why I eventually placed most of them in plastic sleeves.

My present girlfriend searched through my classic section, while she was living with me, and sorted out at least ten duplicate titles from which I was to select the one I wanted to keep. I conceded. And why not? Who needs two, huh? Recently, we joined a book club that meets at the local cultural center once each month. I quickly read this month's choice in a few days after downloading it into my tablet and so I'm ready for discussion (neither of us have ever been a book club member; it's all new to us). Oh yea, I attended plenty of literature classes in college. Maybe the activity is similar. The book is a nonfiction account of the crashing of a military plane in the remotest area of New Guinea near the end of WWII called Lost in Shangri-la. Maybe this event will help to impart new life or direction. Are they fun or stimulating, do you know?

Today, I arrived home from work, threw off my clothes, sat down on one of the reclining corners of my leather couch, passed out for an hour, watched a little TV after fixing a thin sandwich, and now I'm ready for bed. Uneventful to say the least. Had my GF still been here, my nodding off wouldn't have made any points, she'd have supper ready, I'd eat, shower, sit at the couch, and slowing nod off. Not an exciting evening there either. But then, tonight was semi-planned. My brother and I thought we might play an audition at a restaurant, then changed our minds once we found out their hours to be beyond four hours, and these days, we seldom go beyond three.

[moderntimes]

It's good to know your audience both as a writer and a person. I had an embarrassing incident last week. I was relating a true and funny story to a good friend:

When I was in school, a pal of ours had just been named a Rhodes Scholar. We were understandably happy for him and several of us were discussing it over a beer or four. One of our group, an engineer major named Stu, offered this - "Ya know, I'm not real smart, but if I was, and I won that scholarship, I really don't think I'd want to go to Rhodes."

Well, naturally I laughed as I told the punchline, but my friend just looked blankly at me. "I don't understand the joke."

That was truly a case of egg on face, as I had no polite comeback, such as "You jerk, Rhodes isn't where you go, it's the name of the guy who sponsored the scholarships. Winners go to Cambridge! Which, if you don't know, is in England." Or something to that effect. Sigh.

[hopeingod]

Funny. Definitely a keeper for the right moment. I know a couple who set up a small marriage ceremony in their trailer, who, when the pastor asked for the marriage license, asked, "What's that?" They thought the words "I do" were all it took to take the plunge.

Within my family of origin, there exists these sort of uninformed events all the time. I wonder where they get their information, or if there is a source that exists that has ever managed their attention.

My identical twin brother and I are about as opposite as the poles when it comes to our world views. Planning, as I see it through the eyes of the Creator, is two fold: a lamp unto my feet and a light unto my path. One is short term; the other, long term. Some folks have only short term memories, if any. They never put a single penny aside for their futures, and when hard times hit -- those predictable crises for which we all should be somewhat prepared -- they scatter in search of the handout that will see them through.

In comparison, I have, almost to a fault, been far sighted. A financial portfolio, even on a pauper's salary, I began early in life. When Clinton was in office, a dart could be thrown at the NYSE listings and a killing to be made on any one of them. At that time, I grew to be obsessed with the game. Sure, there were those shifts in the market that hit me like three tons of bricks from which it took me years to recover; but I did, and better than expected. All this I did, while those around me knew nothing of IPOs or compounded interest. In a short time, I was looked upon as being the family wizard, able and willing to hand out desperately needed "loans" for which there has never been a single dime in repayment.

My sister, I regrettably took in for twenty two months, at which time she refused to live among my even larger stock of books because of her allergies. Her daily complaints, her sleeping in her barely operable SUV -- even in the winter months, and the never-ending madness had me desirous of a complete severance the moment she left. Eventually, she did leave, back to Michigan, where she now lives, as she always has, like the local bag lady with all her belongings still packed in boxes and stacked in another temporary residence from which she will be moving in time. Only a small corner of one room in her two bedroom apartment has she given to herself, where she has a fold away bed and an electrical outlet nearby that permits her the recharging of her phone. She's 63, and lives like a miserly waif on Walmart wages and a small pension from a state job from which she was forced to quit after they located her in a room that caused her allergies to act up. With the smallest amount of time on the books, she would immediately take it, making her stay with that social work office untenable. So, she quit. In all, I figure she weighs all of 90 lbs and still keeps her hair long and bushy, and generally unkempt.