Sunny

My little canary, Sunny, died yesterday. I knew he was leaving me but he fought for two weeks. His legs gave out and I was putting his food and drink on the floor of the cage next to his mouth. I love canaries because they sing so gloriously. I have heard that canaries are not supposed to live past 6 or 7, but my last one lived for 11 years and Sunny for 10. He sang for many years and then stopped. I am pretty sure he was silent for two to three years. I just thought it was his age. And then, two months ago he started singing again! At any time of the day or night he'd break out into song. I don't remember a bird singing at night before. So he gave me his "swan song" before he left. It seemed like a little miracle.

Michael Jackson - Part 2

I wrote the following post a few days ago. Now I have just finished watching the memorial service for Michael Jackson. I cannot describe what a beautiful, respectful, appropriate and spiritually uplifting event it was to watch. It went far beyond the music to his humanitarian efforts and unpublicized encounters that touched people personally. It made me want to be a better person and what better legacy can a person leave than that? At the end, a unscripted and heartbreaking moment occured when his daughter Paris went to the mic,and through her tears said ," I just want to say, ever since I was born, Daddy has been the best father you can imagine. I just wanted to say I love him very much." Some of you reading this may think it's silly to honor an entertainer this way. I've wondered the same thing. I wrote the following in an effort to explain it to myself.

I've spent the past week and a half trying to understand why I am so affected by the death of Michael Jackson. I have never felt so sad at the passing of someone I never met. Clearly, I am not alone, but it has taken me by surprise. Watching old videos, hearing the songs again, being mesmerized by the dancing - I pondered this phenomenon. The top ten selling albums last week were all Michael's. His radio play has been said to have increased 1735% countrywide. There were 2.6 million downloads of his songs in the first three days after his passing. In explaining this, a spokesman from Rolling Stone eloquently said "His music has been liberated from the eccentricities." That's it. We can go back and love the songs and be amazed at the showmanship and innovation knowing that he will no longer do anything curious or weird to distract us from his real talents.

How can one person have such an influence and impact on the world by just being an entertainer? He is, at this point, arguably the most famous celebrity in history - bigger than Elvis or Marilyn, who also both burned out too soon. For me, I realized he has been around most of my life. We are close in age and I was a preteen fan when he was a preteen singing "ABC".

But what does the word influence mean? When you can actually remember the night in 1983 when you saw the moonwalk for the first time (and there is not a lot I can remember from 1983!). When you can picture your little children dancing around the living room to "Beat It" (and they remember it too). When certain songs you hear now bring back memories. When you are still mesmerized by the seemingly un-human dance moves in a video you've seen dozens of times. When you now realize how many musical artists copy his moves from decades ago - I guess that influence. He was, in fact, a part of our lives.

So that's what I have figured out so far. It's a cultural phenomenon that I'm trying to understand. I'd be glad to hear your take on it. Meanwhile, Rest in Peace, Michael Jackson - the peace we can't even come close to here on Earth - you did what you were born to do. You used all the talents God gave you - and that 's the best thing we can do in our short lives.

The Prophecy of Isaiah

During the Christmas season my church choir did two selections from Handel's Messiah. As a first soprano and classical choral music lover singing this is a always a real joy and thrill for me, and always has been. Not only could I sing Messiah selections all year long and be a happy camper but I am continually amazed at the text. Of course Handel did not write the text - it is all from the book of Isaiah. Messiah tells the life of Jesus, taken from Isaiah, which was written about 700 years before the birth of Christ. Really. Read it again and be amazed.

He grew up like a tender root out of dry ground.

He had no beauty or majesty to attract us to him,

nothing in his appearance that we should desire him.

He was despised and rejected by men,

a man of sorrows and familiar with suffering...

Surely he took up our infirmities and carried our sorrows,

yet we considered him stricken by God,

smitten by him and afflicted.

But he was pierced for our transgressions,

he was crushed for our iniquities;

the punishment that brought us peace was upon him,

and by his wounds we are healed.

We all, like sheep have gone astray

each of us has turned to our own way;

and the Lord has laid on him the iniquity of us all.

He was oppressed and afflicted, yet he did not open his mouth,

he was led like a lamb to the slaughter.

Robert Shaw Chorale

It is not Christmas morning if I do not hear a certain hymn. "Break Forth O Beauteous Heavenly Light" from "The Many Moods of Christmas" by the Robert Shaw Chorale.

Break forth O beauteous heavenly light
and usher in the morning;
Ye shepherds shrink not with afright,
But hear the angel's warning.
This child now weak in infancy,
Our confidence and joy shall be.
The power of Satan breaking,
Our peace eternal making.

I thought the piece was written by J.S.Bach, but on closer inspection I see that he wrote the harmonies - which are gorgeous. Johann Schop wrote the melody. The song just sounds like Christmas to me, but beyond that I am reminded of singing with the great Robert Shaw in 1990. Robert Shaw is considered to be the most influential choral conductor in American history. I had heard about him all my life from my mother who sang with the Mendelssohn Chorus in Pittsburgh under Shaw's direction. Growing up I heard the music of his chorale and stories about the amazing and charismatic man he was.

In 1990 I was singing in the summer version of the Cleveland Orchestra Chorus - The Blosson Festival Chorus. I actually lost count of how many years I sang with them in the summers. (14-15 I think!) It was a great thrill to sit behind the Cleveland Orchestra, long thought to be one of the greatest in the world, and to sing with many guest conductors. Not only did I meet Mr. Shaw (and get his autograph) that summer we did my favorite choral work with him - Brahm's German Requiem. It was an experience I will never forget. My mother was thrilled that I had the experience as well, of course.

The Many Moods of Christmas is the quintessential Christmas album. It was originally recorded in 1963, but you can still buy it today. Click on both of his names above to learn more.

Music: Libera Me

Songs are waking me in the night
in swollen crescendo until my eyelids flap open
with words - their relentless codas, their meanings
transforming my dreams to music,
and my heart to sonorous beats of rhythm.
I cannot abandon this oracle, but wait
to hear its conclusion. I am moved to ovation
and new music enters - notes, sounds, lyrics,
surrounding my bed in a luminous corona.
I am inexorably caught up in the spontaneous gift
and am powerless to cease its intrusion into my rest.
I love and obey the song's presence
and await the diminuendo to sleep again.

Daylight brings the torrid, angry, crashing piano
fulfilling my need to cry, to understand.
Verdi comes at twilight: kyrie, kyrie eleison.
It is better to know and love it all as
the world opens up in lyrical and tonal diversity.
At nightfall libera me, salva me from that
which I cannot comprehend.
The gift, the rush, the orgasmic pleasure
of the counterpoint, and the chaotic, shattering climax.
The foreign language now holds my prayer.
The requiem overpowers me
and brings me
to my knees.
I await the
dies irae.
I pray:
agnus dei
libera me, salva me,
libera me.

Me and My Guitar

I've known how to play the guitar since I was 12 years old. I have a certain amount of ability. But my growth on the guitar, just like so many other interests I've had, seems to halt abruptly at a certain point. Playing the guitar and singing - by myself - in my living room is a summertime pastime. I get great enjoyment from what I can do when I'm alone, and I have the time to build up some callouses on my tender fingers.

I spent years strumming away at camps, coffee houses, vacation bible schools, a summer camp for a nearby private school, and a few times in church. But it's strange to me that I never gained enough confidence to fully use what seems like the perfect instrument for me. I say that because I have an extremely high singing range and generally you can adapt the guitar to your own key with a capo.

A few times in my neighborhood I attempted to play at our lake picnic area and I felt like a real idiot and swore I would not make a fool out of myself anymore. Even though I consider myself a singer I have a light-weight voice and it really needs amplification. Whenever people find out that you can sing they expect you to be able to sing anything, anywhere! My neighbor kept insisting that I could sing like Janis Joplin so I finally gave him a CD I recorded so he could hear that I sound more like Sarah Brightman than Janis Joplin!

Anyway! A couple years ago my dear husband, trying to be encouraging and supportive, gave me a whole set-up to perform - an amplifier, microphone, and a device to amplify my acoustic guitar - and have I used it ? NO! So I'm feeling guilty and confused by something I had made a decision to give up on - especially at my age. I mean, if God wanted me to be the next Joni Mitchell wouldn't I have figured it out by now? The desire is still there. A desire that I have for self-expression of every and any kind I can manage. But will I ever dare to risk being a fool again - an amplified fool this time?

Children Singing

The voices of singing children always makes me cry - but in this video they are singing a song by my girl, Tori Amos! It is the PS22 school in NYC. I love the looks on some of their faces - they've been watching a lot of American Idol, I believe.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sfHXm8F13f8

The Cleveland Orchestra and Chorus

No matter what anyone erroneously says about Cleveland - we have the Cleveland Orchestra and Chorus and Severance Hall. Last night my mom and I heard one of my favorite works - Leonard Bernstein's Chichester Psalms. I've had the joy of singing this piece during one of the 15 summers I spent singing with the Blossom Festival Chorus - the summer Orchestra Chorus. It was an amazing experience sitting behind the world famous Cleveland Orchestra for all those years. A highlight was singing under the direction of Robert Shaw, probably the most famous choral director of the 20th century. Ironically, my mom had sung under his direction in Pittsburgh years before. Severance Hall was renovated several years ago. It is impossible to describe the beauty of this concert hall. Inside you feel like you are sitting inside of a diamond. It is the definition of the word luminescent. This picture won't do it justice - but here's an idea.

Going Solo

It is not easy to sing a solo, even if you know how to sing.
First, for some of us, there are the dreams:
Standing alone, facing a crowd, I am wearing
a transparent flesh-colored nightgown,
my hair ridculous because I couldn't find the shower,
or a brush, my alarm clock failing me.
I run down mysterious, dark hallways
frantically seeking a door - or my music.
I am lost on roads I have never seen.
Strangers won't help, friends are inexplicably mute.
Hopelessly late, unavoidable detained,
now the church is missing.
I open my mouth and nothing comes out.

Back in reality:
I sing along with the CD 257 times.
I kill at rehearsal. I pray relentlessly.
I lie awake that night rechecking my alarm
every fifteen minutes. The morning comes -
awash in lemon tea, cough drops and a gallon of water
I drive the familiar streets making sounds
that resemble an injured blue jay.
Then, like the sun breaking through the clouds
my dormant soprano voice makes a timely appearance.
At the church I respond to 39 queries and good wishes.
Then standing alone, at the crucial moment,
a tiny speck of mucus, like a Who from Whoville
perches atop my left vocal cord and effs it all up.
My eyes water, the world looks and feels surreal.
I look past people and focus on the stained glass windows.
I do the best I can.

For these and many other reasons I am not a professional singer!

I Will Sing

I walked the relentless winter streets, past smothered sidewalks with hands so tired of being cold, pulled up into sweater sleeves where they don't belong. I brought my pressure cooker brain with me. It shouted how much I'll miss angel-winged Jacquie, how much I miss my precious daughter-friend. It whispered of all I've never known.
I yearned to keep walking
away from
the afternoon of difficult children
the expectations of the night
the questions about us
the disappointment of me.
Brain said keep walking and don't look back
until Palm Sunday.
I will sing Domine Deus, Rex Coelestis
O thou our Lord God, King of Heaven
Yes, I will sing.

Mozart's Birthday

Today is the birthday of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, only three days before my own birthday. I feel a bond with Wolfgang because I had one of the greatest moments of my life because of him. In 2003 I was extremely fortunate to travel to Europe with a choir. My solo in the concerts was Laudate Dominum by Mozart. That by itself was wonderful, but I actually got to sing it in Mozart's church - the Salzburg Dom. The beauty of Salzburg was breathtaking and it had been my dream to go there ever since I was ten and fell in love with The Sound of Music and everything to do with it. I stood in places that Julie Andrews had stood!!!

I do not have a strong voice but I will never forget the moment of singing Mozart in Mozart's church, gazing up at his organ, my voice filling the beautiful cathedral without effort. A once in a lifetime moment.

So today I honor Mozart on his birthday. He'd be 252 years old now. He said,"When I am, as it were, completely myself, entirely alone, and of good cheer - say traveling in a carriage or walking after a good meal, or during the night when I cannot sleep - it is on such occasions that my ideas flow best, and most abundantly. Whence and how they come, I know not, nor can I force them."

The Dome of Salzburg Cathedral

A white city, a floweret in green hills

and mountainous sheets of rock,

a fortress of turrets and spires guarding

from above, the dome of a cathedral, survivor

of aerial bombings, conspires to heaven.

Inside I tremble before the silent divine.

Mozart's organ, in a tailored balcony

stares at me from its place in the beauty.

The voluptuous sound of music streams

through the communion peace.

Awe resurrects the spirits and I,

insignificant under the immensity of a dome

hovering with angels and saints, open my mouth

and Laudate Dominum comes, saturating a space

too vast for one voice to be heard, but it is.

Mozart's song in Mozart's church.

Nameless and tranquil I rise

into the dome to survey a

frozen moment in my earth-life,

an offering of the Almighty.

Going Solo

I'm a church singer. I've spent my life singing in choirs, church musicals, weddings, funerals and strumming a guitar around (church-related) campfires. I sang a solo in church this morning. The number of times I've stood alone in front of people to sing could possibly be in the hundreds. Yet, every time I'm given that opportunity I go through about a week of emotional agony and intense self-doubt. Preparing and performing expends a huge amount of emotional and mental energy for me. That's the difference between a church singer and a professional singer.

I have a very limited range and ability. My voice is best suited for Mozart or Puccini, so if I'm at a party and there's a piano nearby I can't just belt out any old song - unless the party has a classical music theme or you enjoy singing along in Latin.

Even stranger than my limited repertoire is the fact that I can ONLY sing in church. I've tried singing at parties, bars and even at the school I work at - and I can't do it! I choke miserably and make a total fool of myself. I get the message and I'm fine with being a church singer. But I still find myself - well - I hate to even put this in writing - I find myself giving God ultimatums. Like - if my voice lets me down, if I screw up this time, well, I may never sing a solo again! I can just see God feigning to play a tiny violin with His fingers and holding back the tears.

Actually, I firmly believe that He desires and requires all of us to use what He's given us - big or small. So anyway, today, I sing my solo. All goes well. Thank you. Next the choir is up for the anthem. I am front and center. In the middle of the anthem I must have tilted my folder a little too far forward and suddenly all the music and papers fall out onto the floor in front of me. At least I made the congregation smile. Don't take yourself so seriously Diane.