How is it that I can remember all the presidents in order, the full roster of the Pittsburgh Steelers who won their first Super Bowl back in the mid 70’s, and the dorm room number of my third grade student teacher (Larson Hall 309) and yet perpetually forget just how brutal this final week and a half of the school year can be. . . a combination sprint and marathon that in some jurisdictions would be cited as cruel and unusual punishment.
And I love it.
Well, I usually do. This year’s gauntlet was made a bit more challenging when our refrigerator went on the fritz, my wife came down with a nasty case of the flu, and one of my tires chose to go flat Friday morning in an absolutely epic case of Bad Timing. (Of course, are flat tires ever well timed?) But somehow I am still smiling and able to type semi-coherent sentences the Morning After, and have a couple of pearls of wisdom to share on how one survives – and even enjoys a weekend which included delivering an opera lecture at UW-Parkside, conducting a SIngalong Messiah performance, narrating a WGTD radio drama, and playing two folks services at church.
*** Don’t Curse the Flat Tire – I’m not quick to curse, as you may or may not know, but when I first noticed the my flat tire Friday morning, a block from our house, the words that flashed through my mind are not exactly what one would find in a Hallmark card. But that flat tire slowed me down Friday both literally and figuratively- and for that I’m grateful. When I was driving around, I was driving more slowly —- and the three breaks I had to take during the day to keep filling the tire with air (it was absolutely impossible for me to take the time to get it fixed) were also therapeutic breathers for me, at least for the most part. (See below.)
*** Laugh Often – I did my best to laugh rather than scream in the most maddening moments…. such as the second time on Friday that I went to pump my ailing tire with more air – on my way to my lecture at UW-Parkside – and discovered only after the fact that the air pump at Speedway (the station did not exactly live up to its name) was not working properly— and while it greedily gobbled up my money, it failed to dispense any air at all. So I hurried over to Quick Trip, where someone else was already using the air pump (if I’d looked for an air pump at a placed called Slow & Slouchy, I probably would have been in great shape)- and I had to wait my turn. (Although I chuckled at the thought of frantically asking the person to allow me to cut ahead because I had a Opera Lecture emergency to which I had to attend.) Somehow the combination of my predicament with these breezy-sounding convenience store names made me laugh rather than cry. I did eventually get to everything I needed to get to, and the tire eventually got fixed by AAA – and at the end of that incredibly demanding day, my wife enjoyed Take Out “Olive Garden” and then a hilariously clever movie called Arthur Christmas that was just what I needed.
*** Show Up – I knew that this weekend was going to be a killer, so I was seriously thinking about passing off one of my obligations- narrating the 91.1 Players latest radio production: “Lost and Found for the Holidays”- planning to ask one of my voice students / theater majors at Carthage to deputize for me (and I would have paid them handsomely.) But then the flat tire happened and that whole plan went flying out the window- and I had to show up after all, bright and early Saturday morning at 9. And I am so glad I did – the gig was more complicated than I remembered, and a couple of minor snags during the live broadcast made it even more so and made me hugely grateful and relieved that I had not passed this off to an unsuspecting student. And it proved to be great fun collaborating with a fine cast under the assured direction of my WGTD colleague, Dr. Steven Brown.
*** Onstage is Nice, but in the Audience is sometimes even Nicer – Saturday afternoon may have been what was the difference between surviving the weekend and jumping off a cliff. I took a break from all the craziness to drink in the glorious music of Gounod in the HD simulcast from the Metropolitan Opera of “Faust.” It was an absolutely incredible performance, and Marshall Anderson and I were really blown away…. by both the singing and acting. And I luxuriated in just sitting there and drinking it in, with no responsibility other than enjoying it to the hilt. And Sunday night, once Messiah was done, I had fun watching a bit of Carthage’s production of the musical Urinetown – and again, all I had to do was sit back and watch those brilliantly gifted students give it their all. I’m still smiling.
*** It Feels Great to be an Assistant – Saturday evening, I played piano for the senior voice recital of Kristi Hamilton, who constructed a recital that began with a song from the 16th century and ended with something from the 20th. And I had the pleasure of sharing that stage with her and doing my part to enhance her good work. It was also quite a poignant event in that it was the first time that my Carthage colleague Sarah Gorke had a voice student deliver a senior recital- and she could not have been prouder. And seeing that brought back all kinds of delicious memories for me of the first recitals that a student of mine delivered at Carthage. Of course, I have almost always had the pleasure of being onstage with the student in question, rather than sitting out in the audience, practically chewing off my own arm with worry. I am so much happier being up there with the student, assisting them towards their finest possible performance. I had that same pleasure several days earlier when Andrew Johnson delivered a fine final recital- and with Kristi, a former choir student of Polly’s at Tremper and someone I’ve worked with in opera workshop, it was a very similar sort of pleasure.
*** Surround Yourself with People who Love You, or at least Understand You – I am so glad that Sunday was the kind of day that it was. All morning long I was at Holy Communion, playing my folk service “O the Joy” – and also trying to be Assistant Minister, which proved to be easier said than done. (I was assigned to one service, and Kathy was assigned to the other, but had just come down with her flu.) There was the comical dropping of balls here and there, but it felt okay because people there have a way of knowing what this time of year is like for me and seem to almost enjoy those days when I am not exactly a pristine paragon of preparedness. But it just made me glad all the more that I’m not the head of music at Our Lady of Immaculate Perfection Lutheran Church. And Sunday afternoon at the rehearsal for Messiah, I was so incredibly thankful to be standing in front of an orchestra that is so able and skilled … AND also so patient and understanding with me. I’m not exactly a bumbling idiot on the podium, but when it comes right down to it, I’m a singer masquerading as an orchestral conductor. But those musicians just smile and go with whatever crazy things I do on that podium. And I sure don’t want to forget to acknowledge the singers in Musici Amici who joined me yesterday. I was running in 80 directions at the same time- something they have seen before- and I so deeply appreciate how they understand this about me and seem to accept it so graciously…. and weather the chaos with nary a ruffled feather.
*** Remember that someone else is having an even rougher day than you are – My reminder of that came in the person of my friend and colleague, Dimitri Shapovalov, who played harpsichord for the performance. He has been feeling absolutely miserable over the last week (and even missed a day of school because of it) – and you just had to glance at him to know that he was still feeling rotten. But he was there – maybe not with bells on, but he was there, and I found myself doubly appreciative of his efforts and of how it made my day suddenly not seem quite so hellaciously challenging.
*** All’s well that Ends Well – This last bit of wisdom came from one of the members of Musici Amici (who shall remain nameless) who I know is wired very differently than I am . . . much more organized. . . much more methodical . . . and who I’m sure was inwardly gritting his teeth at some of the last second thrashing around that happens with almost every Greg Berg project. But when it was all done, he or she said that all that matters is that it ended up being great. The whole weekend felt like a bit of a wild scramble, but everything ended up working out very nicely- and I guess that’s what matters most. . . reaching the finish line alive, well, and in triumph, even if you cross the finish line with a piece of toilet paper dangling from one of your shoes.
P.S.- My tire is fixed, and so is our refrigerator. . .and Kathy is feeling better. And today, I’m feeling a bit like the puppy in the photo above. That’s Reg, who belongs to our friends the Barrows. I will want to do what he’s doing in the photo, but that will have to wait for another day!