I count myself very blessed that upon my return from Seattle I had several big music gigs which not only got me singing (always good for the soul) but also got me collaborating with musical colleagues and friends and up in front of audiences that were especially appreciative.  And I’m quite certain that it wasn’t just a happy coincidence but rather another example of God’s Tender Mercies (as the beautiful saying goes) that I got to do so much singing in the wake of all that we’ve been through recently.

The first gig was in some ways the toughest because it came Saturday night, literally hours after I was back from Seattle via a red-eye flight.  I took off at 12:50 Saturday morning and landed in Milwaukee around 8:30 (there was a layover in the Twin Cities)  so when I walked into Festival Hall for a 12:30 p.m. rehearsal with conductor Richard Carsey, I was not exactly fresh as a daisy – and even by the concert that evening I was stumbling around like someone had punched me in the head with a steam iron.   But fortunately I was only singing three things:  “Gigi,” “Thank Heaven for Little Girls,” and “I’ve grown accustomed to her face,”  three songs that feel very much like familiar friends by now. . . songs I could pretty much sing in my sleep – and pretty much did, to tell you the truth!  That is, I would have been asleep on my feet except that playing behind me was the Racine Symphony Orchestra, and it was so exciting to be singing with them again.  And somehow the word had gotten around to many people in the audience about my brother’s hospitalization,  and I was truly touched by all of the people who asked about Steve and how he was doing – and appreciated also the kind words from people with the RSO who were grateful for my extra effort in getting myself back to Racine in time for Saturday’s rehearsal.

The very next night,  Sunday evening,  I sang with the Racine Concert Band at their pavilion on the grounds of the Racine Zoo, and was glad to be feeling a bit more spry by that point.  Because there was no opportunity to rehearse at all,  director Mark Eichner and I mutually decided to scale back my participation to two songs that we did last year. But O what a joy that it was these two particular songs by Gershwin- “I got plenty of nuttin’ “ from Porgy and Bess – and “They can’t take that away from me.”  I’m pretty certain that it hadn’t occurred to either of us at the time we chose them that both of these songs are beautiful expressions of gratitude for the simple, most basic blessings in life that are right there, in our grasp; we just have to notice them.   It just did my soul so much good to sing those particular songs for a friendly hometown crowd which also included both Kathy and her dad.

The final gig was tonight’s season finale with the Kenosha Pops Concert Band, which performs on Wednesday evenings through most of the summer with me as emcee and vocal soloist.   I was always going to miss July 22nd because of my week in Decorah,  but then ended up missing up the 29th as well because of my unexpected trip to Seattle. . . so when I walked out on the band shell stage tonight,  I jokingly re-introduced myself to the audience in case they didn’t remember who I was after having missed two weeks in a row and three of the last four concerts.  But actually I had already been the recipient of more “welcome back, Greg” comments than I could even count from both members of the audience and the band- plus a nice warm round of applause as I first took the stage, which actually doesn’t usually happen.

My first singing was the National Anthem, and I found myself trumpeting that high E-flat on the word “Free” with extra vigor, while holding it a second or two longer than normal. . . as if to say “I’m Back!”   My solo for the evening was a reprise of a neat Duke Ellington tune that I sang with the band earlier in the summer- “Come Sunday.”  What was especially delicious about singing that wonderful song was the moment when I got to the lyrics “I believe that God put sun and moon up in the sky” as a spectacular full moon was hovering over Lake Michigan. It was a gorgeous sight and I couldn’t help but gesture towards the lake and the moon as I sang those words.  And right after that came something that is as powerful a musical moment for me as anything else I do all year long-  singing “Auld lang syne” with the band.  It’s an especially exquisite arrangement for band and frankly it would be plenty great without any singing at all.   In fact, I think the reason I started singing it was when I stood backstage and heard the band play it for the first time on a concert and just sort of idly sang along to myself and realized that it could not be in a more perfect key for me.   So I think I went to Craig Gall, the director of the group, and offered to sing along on it if he wanted me to – and I’m sure I had a puppy look in my eyes that made it hard for him to turn down my offer.   So the next time around I sang it – and I’ve been singing it ever since, both on our summer finale and on our Christmas concert at Carthage.   The biggest challenge is in not turning into a blubbering mess by giving into the emotions it evokes.  (If I allow myself to think about the final minute of “It’s a Wonderful Life,” I’m done for.)    I usually start out the song thinking about visiting the dentist or cleaning the garage or some such unpleasantness, and  by the time I’m really rolling,  I can afford to look out at the audience and really start to  think about those beautiful words.  And when I reach the final “For Auld Lang Syne my dear! For Auld Lang Syne!  WE’LL take a cup of kindness yet for Auld Lang Syne” complete with high F on “we’ll”  I can hardly contain myself.  This year, wrapped up in that high F was Steve and Scott and Henry and the high hopes we have for Steve’s recovery  . . .   Kathy’s family and their grief over her cousin Pam’s tragic death . . .  the powerful connection we have felt with so many friends and relatives through both of these trials . . .  and the immeasurable joy that comes from making music with dear friends,  in front of an audience of still more friends.   For as rough as the last three weeks have been,  I still feel ridiculously blessed.  And I’m reminded of something that a dear family friend once said in a letter to me.  Her name was Ruth Schwartz, and in one of her typically beautiful letters to me she said in her typically plainspoken way:   So many blessings to be thankful for, and if no more are given,  still have been given far more than could ever be deserved.  

Amen to that, Ruth.  Amen to that.

pictured above:   The beautiful moon which shone over Lake Michigan during tonight’s concert.  My thanks to Kathy for taking such a wonderful picture.