This was the title of my faculty voice recital, which I sang last night in Carthage’s recital hall. The grammar feels a little suspect to me (should it be “have my song” instead?) but that line from Gershwin’s “I Got Plenty of Nothin” was just too perfect to pass up for what I wanted to be a recital of gratitude. I walked on to that stage last night feeling like the most supremely blessed of men – as though my life couldn’t possibly contain any more blessings – only to find myself still more blessed by what transpired. What an astounding privilege it was to have 160+ plus people crowd into the recital hall (several of my voice students had to give up their seats and stand in back the whole night) . . . to have them remain to the end, even though it was stuffy and way too warm . . . and (most importantly) to have them receive what I had to share with such appreciation. It was like waves of love were flowing in both directions in a way that I had never experienced before nor even imagined possible. I’m still shaking my head in absolute wonder.
So in case you weren’t there. . . I started out with a little song I composed within the last five days, and only finished a few hours before the recital was to begin. (Crazy.) The lyrics outline just some of the major gifts that I sorely lack – athletic skills, organizational skills, personal polish skills, etc. It got people laughing right off the bat and signaled that this was not intended to be a stuffy, straight-laced recital. From there, I got serious and played some of Debussy’s Arabesque #1 (in honor of his 150th birthday) and moved without pause into Schubert’s “An die Musik,” one of the finest songs ever written about the beauty and power of music to help us through life’s grauen Stunden – life’s gray hours.
Then I stayed classical but had some fun with the very first opera aria I ever learned, “Non piu andrai” from Mozart’s The Marriage of Figaro. I learned this back in high school (in English) from my first voice teacher, the extraordinary Cherie Carl. I confessed to a case of Figaro Envy, having never had the chance to play this role onstage – only the Count, who’s the main villain of the opera. . . and even confessed to hoping that some mild and temporary malady would befall the baritone who sang Figaro for us last spring, so I could rise to the rescue…. but never got the chance, thanks to the robust health of Bob Petts. (Maybe I should be glad that Carthage’s new president, Dr. Greg Woodward, was out of town and unable to attend, for I don’t know what he would have made of such a preposterous statement made by a voice teacher about one of his own students!) The joke got quite a laugh, and people seemed to enjoy the performance of the aria which followed.
From there, things turned quite serious as I shared a story about an extraordinary woman named Everetta McQuestion, who did more than anyone to help welcome me to Kenosha when I first moved there in 1986 to begin my work at WGTD. I talked about how this vibrant, joyous woman was shouldering a three-fold loss. . . the untimely death of her husband Henry and the truly tragic deaths of both of her sons, John and Douglas. Music was one of the things which sustained her through such losses- including a sublime song by Richard Strauss called “Morgen” which begins with the words “Und morgen wird die Sonner wieder scheinen” – “And tomorrow the sun will shine again.” It’s hard to imagine more essential, powerful words of hope, and when those words are wed to the sublime music of Strauss, watch out – especially when you stir a fine violinist like Ann Heide into the performance. But I have one story to tell- at some point during our performance of this exquisite song, I realized that the piano was not properly fixed in place (usually there are small bumpers positioned to keep the wheels from rolling)- and that with every depression of the pedal, the piano was moving a tiny bit- and for a split second I imagined the horrible vision of the piano hurtling right into Ann and damaging both her and her violin! But thankfully, I was able to keep the piano from moving any further by just pedaling a bit more gently.
The first half of the recital ended with two songs by Norway’s greatest composer, Edvard Grieg. I told the audience about the disappointment I suffered as a sophomore when my performance of Grieg’s “En Svane” earned me a rating of II. Fortunately, I eventually stopped holding it against the composer and went on to sing more of his lovely songs. On this occasion, I sang “Vaaren” (The Last Springtime” in honor of my dad’s 80th birthday. After that came “Den store hvide flok,” a gorgeous hymn which for Lutherans of a certain generation was indispensable for funerals. What made this an especially memorable performance was that I was joined by eight of my upperclassmen voice students, who could not have sung more beautifully. What a moment that was for me!
After a five minute break (I actually put it to an audience vote, on whether or not there should be a brief intermission or if I should soldier straight through) came that part of the recital which in the printed program was called simply “some surprises.” The biggest was when I began playing the Moonlight Sonata of Beethoven, only to have Kathy enter the stage to sing, in a strident voice, “Do you know something Schroeder? I think the way you play the piano is nice! Do you know something else? It’s always been my dream that I’d marry a man who plays the piano!” It’s hard to describe how the walls of the recital hall were quivering from all the laughter over this delicious number from You’re a Good Man, Charlie Brown, which Kathy played brilliantly. After that, I was glad that the audience got to hear Kathy sing as her beautiful self in “I Remember It Well” from Gigi and “Sun in the Morning” from Annie Get Your Gun.
That ingratiating song of gratitude led nicely into one of my own compositions, “Mercy and Love,” which I wrote about ten years ago (seems like just yesterday) for a former voice student of mine named Trevor Parker. Inspired by the story of Jesus and the healing of the ten lepers, the song has a very special place in my heart, and it felt great to finally sing it at Carthage for the very first time (not counting the times I’ve sung it in the privacy of my studio.) After that, I repeated one of my favorite moments from my recital two years ago- “Amazing Grace,” but this time with Kate Barrow and Kathy joining me – which was so much nicer than me singing it as a solo. And then, like two years ago, the audience was sang along for a reprise of the first verse. What an incredibly beautiful experience it was to be surrounded by such a sound, and it was hard for me to fight back the tears.
Then it was time to introduce the last set of the recital. I told a little story about singing in Show Boat during my senior year of high school, and began singing the first song in that medley – when I suddenly stopped and pretty much shrieked “Oh no! I forgot the Gershwin!” I had neglected to sing the Gershwin medley which included the song “I Got Plenty of Nothing” which included the words with which I had named the whole recital – Got My Song. I felt SO stupid- and also felt bad because the recital hall was warm and stuffy and I wondered how many people in the audience were anxious for the whole thing to be done already! But I couldn’t bear the thought of dropping the Gershwin altogether, so I did the songs in slightly abridged fashion . . . I Got Plenty of Nothing, Our Love is Here to Stay, and S’Wonderful. (And I left out a story I wanted to tell about the thrilling experience Kathy and I had of seeing Porgy & Bess on Broadway earlier this year. At that point, all I could think about was the time and the prospect of audience members keeling over from heat stroke.) And from there, I moved without pause into the finale – at last. . . three songs from Show Boat, culminating in “Old Man River” – and this time around (unlike two years ago) I was able to manage both the low G’s and the high E’s just fine. (On the last recital, I was too warmed up and do anything but croak those low notes.) And thanks to the audience’s warm ovation, I ended up calling up Kathy and Kate to join me in one encore: Carole King’s “You Got A Friend,” which ended up being the second sing along of the night.
And that was how the recital unfolded… and I could not have been more thrilled and thankful. I was also humbled that so many people came- and that they stayed to the very end. I especially appreciated that my best friend Marshall, only out of the hospital for a week and a half, drove over from Whitewater- and it was so thrilling to have him there. But beyond that, I was so grateful to see so many students there, some faculty colleagues, many friends from church, other friends from the theater guild, various folks from the community, Kathy’s dad, Polly, Mark, Lorelai. . . all there to hear little old me sing.
I’m still shaking my head in absolute wonder. Wonder and Joy and Thankfulness.
pictured above: This is pretty much how I felt Sunday night when Kathy and I finally got home – but this picture is actually from several years ago.