I am hoping that my wife won’t see this blog entry, so I need help from some of you who are regular readers of my blog. Cousin Linda, can you call up my wife and ask her to help you plan some big family reunion? Make it complicated – and say that it’s happening in a week – so Kathy can think of nothing else. Polly, please call up your sister and and pretend that you can’t bear to send Lorlelai off to kindergarten this fall and ask her for some sisterly advice. Marshall, please email my wife to say that you want to plan a surprise party for me in honor of my 50th birthday party (a little late) before school starts and that you are in desperate need of her help. Randi, please call Kathy and ask for some last-minute organizational tips on packing for your trip to New Zealand. Steve, please send her a text message asking advice on what school to select for Henry for the fall. And last but not least, Kate- I need you to call Kathy twice a day for the next week, tearfully saying that you can’t bear to end your trip out west and asking her to talk some sense into you. There, that should do it. Between all of those pressing concerns, Kathy won’t go near my blog and won’t read the words I am about to write. . . (and she’ll feel SO needed, to boot!)
All right, here goes. . . Kathy and I did some intense cleaning of our bedroom and bathroom today, which went way beyond the usual to include such extraordinary measures as cleaning out from under our dressers, emptying both night stands, and – perhaps most amazing of all – cleaning out my sock drawers, which I’m not sure has happened since we moved into this house ten years ago.
In my sock drawers alone I found three screwdrivers, but don’t ask me why. I’m pretty sure I’ve never needed a screwdriver to put on or remove my socks. And in those old wallets and in various other crevices and corners in the room, I came across a total of SIX old checks made out to me for various lessons and/or accompaniment gigs. One of the checks was for a lesson I gave to a former private voice student of mine, Michael Gastaldi (who played Oliver at the RTG many years ago). The last voice lessons I gave to Michael were when he was in high school – and by my calculations Michael has not only graduated college by now but might even be done with graduate school. That gives you a rough idea of just how old – and how un-cashable – this check is! And it’s not even the oldest check. That one was from 2002 but three others are from 1999, including a $30 check from a couple in Downers Grove with the last name of Wood. . . and I have no idea what I did to earn $30 from these people! (I’m guessing it wasn’t home repairs.) The grand total? $180- except that one of those checks (and by far the largest) was from someone at church for accompanying her son at both regional and state competition, and I remember her giving me a replacement check when I lost this original. Still, the amount of money that I’ve allowed to dribble through my fingers in these mislaid checks amounts to a lot of opera videos.
And it makes me very grateful that I don’t run my own business and keep my own books, because that could only lead to one thing. . . me living in a drainage pipe, cooking a can of pork n beans over a campfire, and wondering where the heck it all went wrong.
pictured above: the six checks. I love that there’s that glass on the counter, which almost makes it look like I’ve driven my wife to drink! Amazingly, I haven’t – and the most potent beverage that glass has held in the last year is Minute Maid orange juice. My wife is a strong, long-suffering, amazingly patient woman. . . but I think most of you know that by now.