The last week has been exceptionally fun and interesting for me, as I’ve presided over the final rehearsals of Carthage’s Gianni Schicchi, begun hearing auditions for the Racine Theater Guild’s spring production of Les Miserables, sat in the audience for wonderful performances of Chicago, Avenue Q, and Almost, Maine, conducted the senior choir at Holy Communion in a really special piece called “He will not suffer thy foot to be moved,” and sang “But who may abide” from Handel’s Messiah for our second service. And oh yes, I also got to record a fifteen-minute phone interview with one of America’s most beloved writers, Maya Angelou, for the morning show – and the next day, had the pleasure of reconnecting with a special friend from my Luther days, Brian Newhouse, who for many years has been a beloved presence on Minnesota Public Radio. All in the space of one incredible week. Lucky lucky me.
But there was another experience that hangs with me almost more deeply than any of the rest – and that was when I played piano for Gentle Worship, a special service which occurs once a month at Holy Communion’s north campus. It’s a service designed to be welcoming for absolutely anybody, including people who have all manner of disabilities, including youngsters who have hyperactivity disorder, autism, Tourette’s, etc. It’s a service in which a certain amount of chaos and cacophony is not only accepted – but almost welcomed. Gentle Worship was the brain child of my beloved friend Walter Hermanns, and it means the world to those who attend it. I was asked to play piano for yesterday’s service in part so I could also sing my song “Bent, not Broken” – which I dedicated to Walter. But just being there also heightened my sense of profound gratitude for all the blessings of my life: a wife I love, who loves me and puts up with my craziness – my health (at least for the most part) – three jobs that continue to give me great satisfaction and pleasure – colleagues who enhance the joys of that work – and an amazing array of students who make me glad every single day that I am a teacher and musician. I try not to ever take any of that for granted, but when I’m in the presence of people who are contending with incredible and relentless challenges in their lives, I realize that I should be far more thankful than I am. Let me count off some reasons why . . .
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1)Schicchi …. I’m not sure that mere words can convey how much fun Matt Boresi, Peg Cleveland and I have had with the cast of Carthage’s production of Puccini’s Gianni Schicchi, a delicious one-act comedy. We hit the jackpot with this cast, who have learned this fiendishly difficult music and are singing it beautifully – but more than that, have achieved a remarkable level of chemistry with each other and are making this production a theatrical event of the highest rank. I am proud of and thrilled with these young people and what they have managed to achieve, and hope that a lot of people will come to Siebert Chapel Friday and/or Saturday night to enjoy this wonderful little masterpiece.
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2) Miz …. When I first heard that the play-reading committee had recommended Les Miserables to the RTG board of directors – and then heard that the board had signed off on that recommendation, I nearly died from a combination of shock and fear. How in the world could we attempt such a massive show? And then when Kathy and I saw a Les Mis production in Greendale and heard one astonishing voice after another ring out from that stage, my heart sank even further. Was there any way that we in Racine could summon the forces necessary to do this work properly, let alone impressively? Well, I’ve never been so glad to be so wrong. A torrent of talented singers have come forward for auditions like we’ve never seen before- a testament to the special regard with which so many singers view this work. And by the time Doug Instenes and I are done hearing everyone who intends who audition for us (156 and counting- the most we have ever had) we will be in a position to put together an extraordinary cast! And the vast majority of them will come from Racine and Kenosha, which makes us very proud.
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3) Chicago, Almost, Q ….. As much as I love being onstage I have no problem being in the audience when I am experiencing something really great. A week ago, I was seated in Carthage’s recital hall, enjoying a mesmerizing performance of Chicago. My colleague Lorian Schwaber had been waxing rhapsodically about her talented cast and their incredible work ethic, and she wasn’t exaggerating in the least! I was especially impressed by Kati Schwaber and Rae Pare in the crucial lead roles of Velma and Roxie; this show is nothing if you don’t have great singer-dancers for those crucial role. But the whole cast, start to finish , was first rate- and in the intimate confines of the recital hall, it was impossible not to be completely carried away.
This past Friday night, I was at the RTG to experience the somewhat peculiar pleasures of the play Almost, Maine– which is a series of different scenes, almost like a series of short stories – although all of these vignettes unfold in the mythical community of Almost, Maine- on the same night. Carthage did this several years ago and I loved it – and at the RTG I loved it all over again. Some of the scenes are funny and quirky, while a couple of others are actually quite poignant and moving. Actors love this show because each of them gets to play multiple characters, and the RTG cast this from strength to strength. I am so glad I was there. (My wife was part of the crew, so it was neat to finally see the show to which she and many others have devoted so much time and energy.) And then Saturday night, it was quite a drastic shift of gears with Avenue Q by Kenosha’s Lakeside Players. This show won the Tony for best musical several years ago, and I can see why. It’s the story of some adults who are contending with life’s complications – something which the simple, happy television programs of their childhood (like Sesame Street) had not prepared them for. I never thought I would laugh my head off at a song about porn on the internet or any number of other somewhat off- color songs. (This is not Oklahoma!) But it was incredibly clever and superbly performed …. and I especially want to tip my hat to my Carthage colleague Sarah Gorke, who was both hilarious and deeply moving as Kate Monster. Bravo as well to my former voice student Jack Lambert as Princeton.
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4) HC …. One of the sweetest moments of the week for me was Sunday morning at first service when Holy Communion’s senior choir sang a really lovely anthem called “He will not suffer” by Robert Wetzler. I love this piece for a very personal reason; it’s one that my family and the Martinson family sang together on the concerts which we sang on our His Gang concerts back in the late 70’s. This piece opened with a beautiful alto solo, and all I have to do is close my eyes and I can hear my mom singing this. She has been gone for over 25 years, but I’m thankful for the way in which this song brings her beautiful voice so vividly to my mind. And then at second service, I sang the big opening bass recitative and aria from Handel’s Messiah, which I sang for the first time 35 years ago as a sophomore at Luther. Of everything I sing, this may be the piece with which I feel the closest kinship- and despite having sung it hundreds of times over the years, it’s just as exciting as it ever was.
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5) Maya and Brian ….. For all the fun I’ve been having musically, it was quite a week for me at the radio station. Wednesday morning, right after I aired an interview with the principal trumpet of the Chicago Symphony (SUCH fun) I had the thrill of speaking with writer Maya Angelou about her most recent book, “His Day is Done,” a tribute to Nelson Mandela. But I have to mention something ludicrous that occurred right beforehand. I called the conferencing service ten minutes before the interview was scheduled to begin, to let them know that if they tried to call me right at the top of the hour or just before it, I would still be on the air and unable to answer. I rattled all of this off rather quickly to the guy who answered the phone, and once I had finished, he hesitantly said “now let me make sure I have this correct. Your name is Maya Angelou?” I almost howled right into the phone “how can you not know that Maya Angelou is a woman and one of America’s greatest writers?!?!?!” But I kept my cool, repeated my message, and hung up, shaking my head as I did so. And maybe that funny little encounter helped relax me for what would otherwise have been a nerve-wracking interview. And the next morning, I had the pleasure of speaking with Minnesota Public Radio’s Brian Newhouse, who I knew well back at Luther. I played for his marvelous senior voice recital and also drew inspiration from his great work on our college radio station, KWLC – so to call him one of my heroes is not overstating it. He was and is a great guy, and it was amazing fun to reconnect with him after all these years.
I don’t know what I ever did to deserve a life full of such amazing and varied blessings. The short answer is that I don’t deserve it. But I will sure try to make the most of it in terms of sharing those blessings with others. And to quote a dear family friend, Ruth Schwarz, “ if there were no more blessings to come, I’ve still been blessed more than I could ever deserve.”
Pictured above: a scene from Gentle Worship. It’s a worship setting in which one sees, among other things, several different service dogs roaming the aisles.