What I did on my summer vacation...

Rule #25 – It’s ok to unleash your inner crazy person.

Wow… where did the time go?

My last post was June 12. That was right around the time that school in this area was letting out for summer. Strains of Alice Cooper’s hit were being sung at the top of  the lungs of every teacher I know. School was letting out forever for some of my friends as they made their lateral move to the recreational sector of life. That was just yesterday, or so it seems.

Now, I spent the summer trying to get back on the writing horse, so to speak. I started many a blog post, child’s story, essay… you name it. They are currently fermenting in a file on this very computer.

Yes, it is time to resurrect the writing mojo. Vacation’s over, Self. Back to work. After all, your teacher buds start back on Monday. Some are already back. Now it’s your turn. Let’s see what you’ve done with the two months off.

This year, summer vacation was a fun and exciting time. I got a chance to see Nashville (the city, not the show) and enjoy some good ole’ Tennessee hospitality. Ghost walks, concerts - that was the name of the game on that trip. Country music even managed to get me hooked on it while I was there. I got to see some shrines held in reverence by some - the Grand Ole’ Opry, Ryman Auditorium, and the Tennessee State Capitol building and grounds.

The trip south was followed by one up north. I got my chance to sit next to “Cliff Claven” at the Cheers bar in Boston, where no body knew my name. I rode the MTA’s T in Boston - and I did return (some of us are really old enough to know the Kingston Trio song reference here). Ned Devine fed me dinner at his pub in Quincy Market.

And there was the Paul McCartney concert at Nationals Park in DC… no words can describe how fantastic that was! Baseball season tickets to see my Orioles … all of this makes for a great vacation year.

So many memories to share… and I will now that vacation is over. I promise. I feel like a vacation junkie, in recovery, one blog post at a time.

So now what? How can I top this vacation season? Have I peaked? Not even!!!!

Time for me to revisit my bucket list. Time for me to see what more there is to do before I go from sniffing flowers to fertilizing them (literally). Time to see if I’m doing things to drive my kids and siblings crazy with worry - and if not, to begin the process.

You remember the movie “The Bucket List”? Morgan Freeman and Jack Nicholson played older fellows finishing life’s race doing crazy things they never would have done at other moments of their lives. There was an episode of “NCIS”, too, where DiNozzo (a kid by comparison) writes his bucket list. When I look at my list now, I don’t see things like “skydive” or “ride a ferris wheel naked“. I see a lot of items in process. There are goals that will take years to finish. Ok with me, World! I got time!

Let’s take a look at part of my list:

1. Get back to weekly blog posts - started. Now to continue.
2. See as many movies in the theater as possible - started. Yeah, I have cable with movie channels, but there is nothing like the in-house movie experience, complete with over-priced popcorn.
3. See as many concerts as possible - started. Thank you, Sir Paul, for a fantastic evening. Carpool to the first Apollo Chamber Orchestra concert on September 20 is being formed as we speak.
4. Make the 32 Pilgrimage - started, 3 down, 29 to go. For those who don’t know what this is, you see a baseball game in each of the 32 major league baseball parks. It may be your team; it may not. Last stop for me will be Yankee Stadium, not for any honorific reason, but because I wear Orioles orange and may not survive the experience.
5. See an All-Star Game live - preferably before the Yankee Stadium visit.
6. Follow Pop’s Normandy trail - planning stages. Next year is the 70th anniversary of D-Day. Hub’s father came ashore at Utah Beach and then moved through the Ardennes with the Battle of the Bulge. I want to start this as close to June 6, 2014, as possible and drive through the country-side, just like he did as an Army medic.
7. See as many theatrical productions as possible - started. Got my subscription to the Broadway Across America series at the Hippodrome Theater. Plans include dinner theaters too, along with a few school productions.
8. Drive across country at least once. I can and probably will do this by myself. Ok with me, since I can use my own timetable.
9. Drive the PCH and the ECH. That’s the Pacific Coast Highway and the East Coast Highway, or scenic waterway. My goal here is to get off the interstate and see things like Dead Man’s Curve. Plan to wear out my little Canon camera!
10. Go to Rome, Germany, the Holy Land, and back to Japan. I’ve never been to Europe or the Middle East, and I want to see if I can still find my way around Tokyo all these years later. We left just as I was getting good at reading the Japanese Kana script.
11. Watch a live TV show as an audience member, and/or watch a live film or TV shoot - better than possible. I live near DC and lots of political dramas need the local area as a back drop. “House of Cards” is shot in Baltimore - again, nearby. I’m a quick train trip to New York and Jimmy Fallon and David Letterman. This may be a sooner-rather-than-later item.
12. Become a regular at Spring Training - planning stages. I’m still waiting for MLB to pull the spring practice schedules together.

Hey, I’ve only listed a dozen things here. There’s more on the list and I will not say if any of them include being naked. But the list is in constant flux - which is good! And it’s not a “bucket list”, really.

We teachers call them Performance Objectives. And these objectives will be met by at least one crazy person - me!

Ahhhh! Friday!

Rule #9 – Do not fear your emotions.

  

     Music is a universal language. It is an education of its own. It is history, mathematics, art, psychology all rolled into a package that anyone can appreciate, no matter where they live. Music is a proven healer. It is one way many students deemed “special” by the educational community can communicate with others. Those who do not respond to words, respond to music. This blessing is nothing short of magic. 

     I allowed myself to enjoy the magic that is classical music, courtesy of the Apollo Chamber Orchestra. This orchestra is local to the Washington DC area and features young musicians and their mentors playing side-by-side in an informal atmosphere. It also helped that two of my treasured friends “Handel” the double bass duties in the orchestra. We brought a complete cheering section for the low strings section.  

Link to Apollo Chamber Orchestra Homepage 

     The program this evening focused on four Eastern European composers. The orchestra, led by an energetic Stephen Czarkowski, began the evening with the Russian Easter Festival Overture, Op. 36 by Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov. The melodies of this piece started by honoring Passion Saturday and moved to a joyous awakening on Easter. The intense celebration of Easter was felt with the rising crescendo of the notes. Just try sitting still through this piece! I dare you! You can’t do it. Throughout the audience, feet were tapping, arms were moving, and excitement was building during the entire performance of this overture.

 

     Our psyches were then treated to a wonderful gift in the form of baritone Javier Arrey. He appeared courtesy of the Washington National Opera’s Young Artist Program. This Chilean native sang five of Dvorak’s Biblical Songs, Op. 99, in Czech. The compositions were personal for Antonin Dvorak, who took the words from the Book of Psalms during a time of personal crisis. Arrey was true to the beauty of the music Dvorak composed in his mourning. His voice carried without microphone assistance in the concert venue. Powerful, and prayerful – and the sounds melted my own sad heart.  

     Mr. Arrey then sang a portion of Handel’s Messiah, “Why do the Nations so Furiously Rage Together?” We were told, by the conductor, that Mr. Arrey was recovering from a cold. But no one in the audience could tell. We were taken on a magic carpet into Georg Handel’s musical masterpiece. What could be better? How about an encore from the “Barber of Seville”? Mr. Arrey did not just sing this piece – he performed it. He moved among the audience singing directly to the crowd. The only thing missing was a hundred-pound costume. Catching my breath was taking effort! The performance brought the audience to its feet and to tears of joy.  

     Intermission gave all of us a chance to catch our breath and come back down to earth. But it didn’t last long. We made a journey to Stalin’s Russia with Dmitri Shostakovich’s Symphony No. 5 in D Minor, Op. 47. This symphony has quite a tongue-in-cheek history. Stalin sat in on its first performance. The music was supposed to document the greatness of Communist Russia. The notes in the beginning created mental images of abused peasants and elitist class under Czarist rule. The music moved to a feeling of chaos, but the listener can not really tell if it is the chaos of the Revolution, or the chaos from the aftermath of the Revolution. I felt that Shostakovich was trying to find beauty in the current state of Russia and it just wasn’t happening for him. I felt the music pull my strings as if I were a puppet, which is the image in my mind of how Shostakovich may have really felt about his government’s attitude toward its citizens. The last movements were supposed to document the triumphant Russia under Stalin’s rule. There were some notes and chords throughout that section which told me Shostakovich thought Stalin’s version of Russia needed – let’s just say, a bit of – improvement.  

     We aren’t sure what Shostakovich really meant in this composition, since he passed away before the Gorbachev era. We can only speculate based on what we do know of the composer and his history in Russia. The orchestra, however, allowed us in the audience to feel the tension and imagine what was going on. We were permitted to put ourselves in Russia, to feel what it was like to work in the factory, to search for beauty in the midst of dictatorial sameness. 

     The Apollo Chamber Orchestra members do not know how much I, personally, needed their music. The prior week for me was a frustrating one. I returned from a week’s vacation to a mountain of yard work, weather that refused to cooperate, the one-year anniversary of the death of my trusty Rusty, and experiencing yet another hurricane. I do not have a good, recent track record with hurricanes. But, as if preordained, the rains cleared in time for me to pack up some friends and head out to the concert. The traffic on the Washington Beltway moved smoothly in our direction. We had no problems getting to the venue or home. We were meant to be there for this concert.  

     Life is good, especially with a side of music. Self, you must seek out more concerts in the local area… especially from the Apollo Chamber Orchestra.

Videos included are from YouTube and not from this particular concert. They are for your musical enjoyment.  Experience these pieces for yourself.

Here's to you...

Rule #52 – History is just that. Learn from it.

 

     For as long as I can remember, baseball has been a part of my life. Memories – of sitting in the stands with Dad and my brother at Connie Mack Stadium, of pick up games in the street outside my house, of CYO games playing catcher (badly, too), of youth league games playing catcher and outfield, of family get-togethers listening to relatives arguing about which Philadelphia Phillie player was the bigger bum this week, of stealing only certain baseball cards from my brothers to clip into the spokes on my bike – these defined my childhood. These memories helped to make me the rabid fan that I am today.  

     The heroes of baseball were as familiar to me as cousins. Names like Ritchie Ashburn, Jim Bunning, Jim Longborg, Lou Brock, Willie Mays, Steve Carleton, Mike Schmidt, Brooks Robinson, Frank Robinson, Jackie Robinson, Stan Musial, Jim Palmer, and Carl Yazstrzemski – all were people we frequently discussed over dinner and after dinner. At that time, baseball on the radio was the soundtrack of our lives.

     Fast forward to the present and my passion for the game has not diminished. No, it may be even stronger today, even though I can’t participate as I used to do. This passion led me to head to the theater to see “42”. It is the story of one of my childhood heroes, Jackie Robinson, and his integration into all-white Major League Baseball.

     True fan that I am, I even dressed for the event. The biggest decision was which team shirt I should wear. I didn’t have to dig deep into the drawer to pull out my Phillies tee shirt. It didn’t have a number on the back, just the star and name “Phanatic”, after the mascot.

     I sat there in the darkened theater, mesmerized by the images on the screen. There was Branch Rickey (Harrison Ford) and Jackie Robinson (Chadwick Boseman) in that iconic picture signing his Dodger contract. There was catching great Joe Garagiola (Gino Anthony Pesi) visibly conflicted about the situation on his team. There was Pee Wee Reese (Lucas Black) standing up for Jackie on the field. This story was a baseball lover’s dream come true.

     The dream turned into a nightmare in a few scenes. Branch Rickey argued with then-general manager Herb Pennock (Mark Harelik) about the Phillies refusing to play any game with a black player on the field. There stood then-Phillies manager Ben Chapman (Alan Tudyk) spewing out the most hateful epithets as Jackie Robinson stood at the plate. The words, the venom with which they were spoken had me cringing in my seat. I felt myself shrink down, trying to hide, wondering if the choice of a Phillies shirt was a good one. Where’s that huge rock to burrow under when you need it? I was ashamed to be a Phillies fan at that moment.

     As I watched those scenes unfold on the screen, though, I could hear the same words from Chapman’s mouth ping around in my brain. I’ve heard them before growing up in Philadelphia. Many of my relatives used those same words to describe African-Americans. My mom didn’t like hearing that speech and would not let us use those words. But the sentiments were all around me growing up in a working class family. It wasn’t right, but it was there. And just because it was there, didn’t make it right.

     I had to stop and think afterward… what has changed? Yes, baseball is really integrated for race and religion. But in the hearts and minds of many, what prejudices still exist? Do I have the guts to stand up for what’s right when it counts?

     Jackie Robinson opened the door for so many others of all races to rise to the ranks of major league player. What he went through as a person, and as a player – there is where the real hero emerges.  He was frustrated with the attitudes of others, but he rose above it all. He wore number 42 with pride and courage. He had more guts than most people I know. For that example shown to the world, his number 42 will be permanently retired from all teams in baseball, with the retirement of the last player now wearing it, Yankee pitcher Mariano Rivera.

     So, with apologies to Paul Simon, may I raise a glass and propose a toast:

            Here’s to you Mr. Robinson,

            Jesus knows the crap that you went through

            Woo, ooo, ooo…

            Thank God for you, Mr. Robinson,

            We need a man like you on earth today.

            Hey, hey, hey…. Hey, hey, hey

May we all learn from his example.

All Hail, the Cheese Steak!

Rule #2 – Write from what you know

     Many American cities are known for specific foods. These foods may come from the industries that keep those cities afloat, or from the immigrant heritage that settled in that area. When you say the name of the city, your brain immediately registers the food in question. For example,

            Kansas City – Barbecue

            New York City – thin crust pizza, brick oven preferable

            Maine – Lobster

            Boston – baked beans

            Memphis – Barbecue

            Maryland – Blue Crab anything

            Alaska – King Crab anything

            Chicago – deep dish pizza and more barbecue ribs

            New Orleans – beignets and lots more

            North and South Carolina – Barbecue

            Texas – beef barbecue

     Hmmmm…. I’m seeing recurring themes here… lots of seafood and barbecue. Not seeing any problems here, are you?

     Anyway, my city of birth is Philadelphia PA, known for the hoagie and the cheese steak. Both are sandwiches. One is cold and the other served hot. Both are loaded with flavor and ingredients. Both tend to explode out of their bread shells, which makes it difficult to eat when you are dressed fancy or in your Sunday best. Neither is recommended on a low-fat, low-sodium diet – but there are ways around that, too!

     The hoagie has cousin sandwiches with different names all over the country. I’ll give you my favorite way to make a hoagie in some other post. Even Subway gets this one right some times.

     But the cheese steak, that’s another matter. Even in Philly, there are cheese steak wars. You have your Pat’s Cheese steak fans. You have your Geno’s Cheese steak fans.  And then there are people like me, who chuck both recipes and make it up as we go. Here we have a sandwich that allows for some creative wiggle room.

Pat's King of Steaks - 9th St. and Passyunk Ave.

Geno's Steaks - 9th St. and Passyunk Ave.,

the start of some beautiful sandwich warfare in Philly

     Oh, the memories of cheese steaks long, long ago! I grew up visiting relatives in South Philly and getting my cheese steak fix from a luncheonette at the corner of 15^th and Shunk Sts.  They put the basics together – crusty Italian bread-recipe roll, chopped beef steak, and cheese – with fried mushrooms, onions and green peppers. They didn’t usually use Pat’s or Geno’s Cheez Whiz or orange American cheese. Your choices here were provolone or mozzarella. Drip factor to the max with the mozzarella! 

1 roll + steak + cheese + stuffins = Heaven! (hold the mayo and ketchup)

    I don’t know if that luncheonette even exists anymore – only in my memory. But those memories have me now searching out Philly Cheese steak sandwiches all over the East coast. Many restaurants here in Maryland offer Philly Cheese Steaks. But the question is – are they AUTHENTIC? Some say, if it ain’t made in Philly, it ain’t authentic. I say, it’s a matter of taste. If it’s got the right blend of ingredients, the right textures, the right mouth-feel, the right drip factor… it’s authentic enough for me.

Original Philly Cheese Steak Sandwich - notice orange cheese (not for me!)

     I started my search at a chain restaurant, the Cheesecake Factory. They have a California Cheese steak sandwich on their menu. Ignoring the fact that they put “California” and “Cheese steak” together on the menu (sacrilege!), I gave it the college try. My sandwich arrived on a sour dough round roll, stuffed with chopped steak and a blessing of provolone cheese. It was chock full of fried onions, mushrooms and green peppers. They had the good sense to put lettuce and tomato on the side (some add it directly to the sandwich). This was a pretty good sandwich considering it was made at a chain restaurant. This Philly girl would rate it as:

            Steaky – 4.5 (out of 5) drips

            Bread – 3 drips

            Stuffins – 5 drips

            Overall drip factor – 5 drips since I’m still trying to get the grease spots out of my shirt. Not too bad, really!

     Next stop was a local (Millersville, MD) foodie hangout called Zandi’s Grill. Fans of “Restaurant Impossible” will recognize the name, since it was one of those rehabbed from atmosphere to menu on the show. They offer Zandi’s Cheese Steak Sammie, which was stuffed full of sirloin beef roasted right on site. This baby arrived on a sour dough torpedo roll, with provolone cheese and lots of fried onions, mushrooms and peppers. This place put the lettuce and tomato right on the sandwich, but they asked me first. I wanted to hoagie-fy my Sammie, but drew the line at mayo and ketchup. (What is it with mayo on everything below the Mason-Dixon Line, anyway?)  Using the above-listed rating system, I give the sandwich at this eatery:

            Steaky – 5 drips – at least!

            Bread – 5 drips

            Stuffins – 5 drips

            Overall drip factor – 5 drips. Yes, I’m still wearing some grease spots here, too. This place is a keeper on the “I-need-a-cheese-steak” list.

     Last stop - on this round anyway - was the Chesapeake Grille and Deli in Bowie, MD. On their Hot Sammy menu, they offer a Sirloin Cheesesteak. They start with Angus sirloin beef, chopped and grilled up. They grill up the onions (not fried) and top it with provolone, all this on an Italian bread torpedo roll. I added grilled mushrooms to my sandwich and I did hoagie-fy it with lettuce and tomato. The cook added a Maryland extra – Old Bay seasoning! This sammy came with it’s own kick! The Old Bay took the Philly out of the sandwich, but was a very tasty touch. It was a great example of culinary creativity. Not bad, Maryland, not bad at all! This sandwich rated pretty well on my personal rating system:

            Steaky – 5 drips – juicy but not fatty (serious yum)

            Bread – 5 drips – brought back memories

            Stuffins – 4 drips – needs some peppers and more ‘shrooms

            Overall drip factor – 5 drips. No spots as souvenirs from this epicurial adventure, but I have a great memory of the Old Bay seasoning on the sandwich. It wasn’t a totally Philly experience, but it sure tasted good!

     Ok, Self… you are so NOT done searching for the Philly Cheese Steak of your dreams. The tummy and the waistline will continue to seek out the best sandwich around. So far, you haven’t met a cheese steak you didn’t like.

     Now to get more laundry spot remover….

     By the way, here’s a short cheese steak history lesson. Check this out http://www.visitphilly.com/articles/philadelphia/top-10-spots-for-authentic-philly-cheesesteaks/ .

Enjoy!

All photos are public domain.

In Search of Spring... Weather

Rule #51 – Make pilgrimages.

     Dictionary definition of “pilgrimage” - a journey of a pilgrim or any long journey or wandering

     Well, Random House Dictionary, this is not enough. Let’s look at what a “pilgrim” is.

     Dictionary definition of “pilgrim” – a person who journeys to some sacred place as an act of devotion

     Much better, Random House Dictionary! I can relate to this portion of the definition.

     I do believe that “sacred” could be anything that one values highly. For me, I hold my relationships with Hub and my kids (in-laws included) and grandkid sacred. These are relationships that make me tick. My religious practices are sacred to me, also. I hold some of my hobbies sacred as well. Now that may sound ridiculous, until you can understand how these hobbies connect to my life.

     Many relatives of mine are making pilgrimages to all the baseball parks. I can relate to that, since I have vivid, comforting family memories around the professional baseball events. Ok, some of them were arguments. Some of them involved questionable language. But memories of those games, discussion, competitions, whatever it was – those memories are precious. The memory makes the event “sacred” and valuable.

     Gardening is another sacred item in my world. For me, working the earth is an honor. It doesn’t matter if what I put in the ground grows or not. (It’s great when it does, but… no guarantees) Just thinking of who may have walked on this soil in the long distant past, or who may have passed by where I live in the history… working in a garden is such a humbling thing to do. It’s such an act of faith.

     With this in mind, I prepared to be amazed again during my annual pilgrimage to the Philadelphia Flower Show. This year’s theme of “Brilliant!” brought hope of a trip to England, with all the formal gardens and wonderful roses. I went to enjoy, be inspired, learn, and bask in the spirit that is shared by gardeners world wide.

     This year, my sisters, aunt and I decided to save the environment and use public transportation getting to the Philadelphia Convention Center. We trained in from New Jersey and walked the few blocks to the Center. Inside, we got our chance to walk through the gates of Buckingham Palace – sort of. The entry into the show was meant to be dramatic and did not disappoint. Beautiful groupings of roses and carnations greeted us at the Palace gate. 

Gates at the Palace - entry to the Show

     This year, the landscape designers honored the many items we associate with England. One large display paid homage to cricket, a relative of baseball. Others brought back the days of old when knights were bold. The flowers and plants enhanced the designs and fit into the overall color palette of the scene. Designers took plants that I grow in my garden and showed how they can become visually dramatic. Many designers took everyday items and turned them into planters, or worked them into the basic design of the garden view.

Cricket bench at the Downend Cricket Club

More Cricket Club displays

It's good to be the king!

The full medieval look

Flowers that would work in my zone

My impatiens should look this good

Kitchen Garden

No backyard kitchen I've ever seen before

Including the kitchen sink

     The Beatles were honored in a number of locations within the show. Several displays took individual Beatle songs and created displays using the name as the theme. We saw “Rain” gardens, a few “Octopus’ Garden” displays, and a display of a great use for a “Yellow Submarine”.

When the rain comes....

... a nice way to hide your head

I'd like to be....

Under the sea

in an Octopus' Garden...

in the shade!

My Yellow Submarie

     One display took us to Professor Sprout’s garden from Harry Potter. She was growing items for Professor Snape’s potions stores. How else could you make a display of herbs, medicinals, and edible plants work and be interesting to kids? Add a few owls to the display and… Clever!!!

Hedwig helps Professor Sprout

These can go directly to Professor Snape's store room

One of the many "post" owls

Errol delivers to Professor Sprout

     Austin Power’s Mod Pad was redone using flowers. After all, he was a Man of Mystery in the Flower Power era. Bright colors of flowers and furniture brought back memories… since I survived the Flower Power era. There were lots of groovy things to look at in these displays.

Peace, Love and all that

Don't worry.... be happy

One groovy pad, Baby

Relax and get your groove on

Oh, so '70's in the colors

     Big Ben was the centerpiece of the displays. Projection screens allowed Big Ben to tell the exact time at all times. But on the hour, show goers were treated to a 5 minute montage of everything exported and British. The Beatles, Adam Antt, The Rolling Stones, Mr. Bean, 007, the Eurythmics, Benny Hill, Sgt. Pepper and the Blue Meanies… these and many more were worked into an MTV style video montage. I had to see it several times. Each time I found something else new. 

Big Ben

Big Ben, during the video montage

     I left those hallowed halls feeling inspired, rejuvenated, and just itching to go dig in the dirt. I had to hold onto those feelings since Spring arrived officially with snow and lots of cold and wind. Then it would get warm… and rain. This gardener couldn’t catch a break from the weather. Guess I just had to "Let it Be".

Homage to "Let it Be"

      But now it seems like the warmer weather will be with us starting next week. Time to get outside and work the dirt. Time to get that garden party started. Time to take some of the inspiration from “Brilliant!” and put it into action.

     Now if I could only get a mailbox that looks like this…

Mine.... not yours. Mine!

     And until next year, when we get to journey to Ireland…

     Who needs a gym membership when you can have a garden?

All photos are the work and property of Marge McGugan. No reuse or duplication without permission.

Confessioni di un Rookie Opera

Rule #28 – An author must continue to learn.

     You regular readers may have guessed that I really like music. It is a language all on its own. I enjoy almost all forms of music, even some rap. Once you get through the killer bass and blowing out of your woofers, sometimes there is some nice poetry buried in the noise. Most heavy metal is psychotic screaming to me, but there are a few tunes that get my toes tapping and feet moving. Let’s not forget the Big Bands and crooners.

     Yes, I even like classical music and some opera music.

     When I was teaching – seems like a thousand years ago – I used opera music as a deterrent. I also managed to honk off a few chorus teachers in the process. My thoughts were that the kids I taught liked rap and heavy metal. Classical music was painful to their ears. Opera, with high soprano arias, was even more so. To top it off, my singing along with opera, with high soprano arias, was the ultimate in torture. Detention equaled torture in their minds. Is there a better way to spend detention in my class, than to listen to Pavarotti’s favorite arias, with me singing along at the top of my lungs? I made sure the kids in all classes – all 12 classes of them at the end of my career – knew what they were in for if they crossed the line. There was always one or two who managed to earn a detention with me early in the year. The serenade was… well, I’m no music critic. But I must say that word got out and detentions with me in my classroom were few and far between. Most “frequent flyers” chose to ditch my detentions and rack up a few administrative detentions. The knuckleheads forgot that the next step was suspension. Dug their own hole, they did.

     Anyway, opera worked. A few even enjoyed the music. Now I’m not sure if they were brown-nosing, but some kids actually asked about the operas involved. They remembered some of the music from TV commercials.

     Up until recently, my only exposure to opera was on public television. Never saw one in person until a few summers ago. My cousin, who is an opera aficionado, suggested we see an updated comedy at Wolf Trap Barn. Yes, it was sung in Italian, and yes, the translation was running on a board above the scene. And yes, the music was magnificent. Yes, the story was funny. Yes, I could understand it. No one died, but it was still an opera.

     This is one event that Hub was not into joining me. He couldn’t see why it should take someone five minutes to sing about how they have to use the bathroom. Guess it just didn’t make sense to him. We agreed to disagree on this subject.

     The next operas my cousin and I saw were one act operas. Both had the leads died in the shows. One, however, had the main character sing almost the entire act. My throat hurt just imagining how she got through this. Singing at this level has to be cardio exercises to the max. I was at once amazed, awe-struck, and jealous of the singers. They had a talent I could only envy.

     Recently, my cousin invited me to join her and a few of my late aunt’s friends for an afternoon at the Met. Hmmmmm… says I. The Metropolitan Opera is in New York. Are we talking field trip? No, but the Met does have a “Live in HD” monthly event shown at certain movie theaters world wide. We went to a neighboring town, to the movie theater, and watched a live performance of “Francesca di Rimini”. It turned out to be a great way to spend a Saturday afternoon.

     Now the plot of the opera is pretty standard. Girl meets boy. Boy snows girl. Girl marries his brother. Girl and boy are still in love and start messing around. Youngest brother has the hots for girl, too. Youngest brother snitches to Hubby. Hubby gets honked off and kills girl and boy. Sounds like “My Three Sons” meets “Pretty Little Liars”. In between, there is some war stuff, and ladies gossiping.

     The production, though, was not what I expected. “Live at the Met” had little down time between acts. Act 1 ended and the cameras went back stage. The head of scene construction was interviewed. You watched the crew construct a massive tower and put all the components together in 15 minutes. It was quite the choreography. The mistress of ceremonies also interviewed the principal female lead. She ducked out of character for a few minutes to discuss her love of this piece, in particular. The male principal leads were interviewed between acts 2 and 3 and 3 and 4. The costume designer was interviewed. The conductor was, too. So much to learn about staging this opera in only 4 hours!

Photo from "Francesca di Rimini" Met Review by Lev Sviridov, Policymic.com

     Turns out, this opera hasn’t been staged at the Met for almost 30 years. All the scenery and costumes were stored in a freight container at a storage facility in Newark, New Jersey. When they opened the container after all those years… well, let’s just say that there was some restoring to be done to scenery and costumes alike. It was fascinating to hear the crew chiefs talk about what it took to bring these items back to usable glory. The costumes had so much intricate embroidery on heavy velvets. They were gorgeous and I’m sure fixing them up was labor intensive. I was just so glad I didn’t have to wear one of those costumes under heavy lighting.

     The “HD” set up allowed us to get close to the faces of the singer/actors. We were personal with the performers; where on the larger stage, we would not have seen such emotion up close.

     Toward the end was the “mandatory” commercial about next season’s operas. My cousin and I made plans to see a few of them. There was one in particular she wanted to attend. Turns out she knows one of the supporting singers. She wants to see him in action again.

     I can file this adventure under “Who knew?” Who knew I’d add opera to my list of favorite things to do? There is so much to look forward to…so much to learn.

     Forward! Must have more opera… must have more opera…

     Self, make it so.

Good Bye, Sandy

Rule #42 – When in doubt, do it for the fun of it.

     “Sandy, you hurt me real bad. You know it’s true." ( from Grease)

     Yes, Sandy – Hurricane Sandy. You remember that one, right? “Katrina ‘Light’”? It didn’t get the same horrific public response that Katrina did for those affected. But it got big-time news coverage since a lot of the worst damage was in the New York-New Jersey-Connecticut areas. Right where the news services are headquartered…

     But Sandy hurt lots of others, too – others where overall damage wasn’t too bad. She got me good. Because of Sandy, some relatives were not able to see Hub before he passed away. I stayed 3 days at the hospital with Hub while Sandy did her “thing” to Maryland. On top of everything else, she left some damage to the house. On Tuesday evening, I left the hospital to check on the house and get some fresh clothes for myself. I found a small leak in the roof that caused drywall to bubble up on the ceiling in my office.  Nothing broke through, but the bulges were there, looking threatening. I turned two gooseneck lights up toward the ceiling and put the fan on, to get air moving to dry it up. Then said a quick prayer and headed back to the hospital. Hub died the next morning.

     “Sandy, can’t you see I’m in misery?”

     What a few days… and thank God above for the guy next door. My neighbor is in construction. He looked at the damage and gave me a report, so I could call the insurance company. The he put a temporary fix on the roof. The ceiling dried on its own, but he recommended tearing it out and replacing it, to prevent mold growth. He did the roof fixing without saying a word or charging me anything.

     Thank God above for my neighbors across the street. They both kept an eye on the house to make sure the power didn’t go off. We were lucky that way… we still had electricity after the storm passed.

     “I sit and wonder why-i-i-i-i…”

     There has to be a reason for everything. During the days following the storm, I was so busy that I fell each night into an exhausted sleep. We got through the funeral without further problems. Then it was time to start the paperwork that goes with losing a spouse. In the midst of that mess, was calling the insurance company. We didn’t file a claim with the damage we suffered during the deracho. Now was different. I was filing in spite of the fact that our rates would probably go up.

     Now to book the professionals to do the work… The company I chose, we used before. They put our back porch on the house and Hub and I were so pleased with the work. I also decided that, since we had the big stuff to do, we might as well do some cosmetic work too. I looked at the home improvement list Hub and I did for that room and a few others upstairs. I broke it down into damage repair and cosmetic work. The insurance company got the list of damage repair. I paid for the cosmetic work. The contractors were great about writing the bills so I could submit them in that way, too.

     Then the work started… more misery. Well, not entirely. The new roof wasn’t too bad. But when the inside work started, I was faced with a daunting task. I had to clear out 2 bedrooms that had become dumping grounds for “stuff”. My daughter helped a lot. She even took pictures of the more unusual “stuff” she found. We spent the better part of a weekend saying to each other “What the…??? Why was this saved?” There was also a few times where she went “When you go, I want this.” By the end of the pack up weekend, I couldn’t get past the door in my guest room, and I could barely get to my bed and the bathroom in my room. Everything was stacked up, packed up, and tossed into random boxes with no real plan.

     It took two weeks of heavy work to get everything done. At the end of the construction, I had wallpaper stripped from two areas; ceiling removed as well as insulation and both replaced; painting done in two bedrooms, the upstairs hallway and stairwell, and the downstairs hallway; and hardwood flooring put through the area. The floor guys refinished the steps to match. I was back to snorting spackle dust and not being able to vacuum enough.

     Now the reoccupation begins… Now the boxes for the most part, are empty. I’ve gone through a lot of the “stuff” and moved it downstairs, closer to the door. Hey if it’s close to the door it will leave the house, right? I’ve figured out which pictures I want back up. So much trash!!! So much to donate!!! I’ve found homes for a lot of items, like old text books. I hate to toss them out. Seems so wasteful, but they were from when I earned my degrees. Newer versions exist now and I’m sure they are available online.

     And then there’s the other rooms and how they look after a fresh coat of paint nearby. It’s amazing how you redo one room and more projects present themselves. I’m in a home improvement snowball! I’m trying to have fun, doing with I want with the room colors. And now, by choice, my main bathroom looks like a bottle of Pepto exploded on it. Yes, there’s that much pink out and about.

     I almost hate to finish, because the next thing I planned to tackle is my room, and Hub’s dresser and his part of the closet.

     Things are starting to calm down a bit. And now I am really starting to feel my loss. I’m doing ok… but just ok. More tears at odd times… never know what will trigger the waterworks.

     All of this and I’m still trying to recover my writing mojo…

     So many things still half done…

     So much left to start…

     “Sandy, you left me…”

     But I’m still alone… in a crowd.