Aida Should Not Have A Double Chin

I turned to the guy behind me in the ticket line and said: “We learned about this opera in sixth grade.”  He replied that he was impressed that I went to an elementary school where the kids learned about operas.

I had fully expected him to say, “Then why did you wait 58 years to see it?”

The opera was Aida, and the ticket I bought was for a Metropolitan Opera HD simulcast.  Because I had waited 58 years to see Aida, I wanted to see it in a special venue.  I crossed the Mississippi River to a little town with the oldest college in the state of Illinois.  Charles Dickens had visited this little town, and the town looks like it hasn’t changed much since his visit.

My main memories of learning about Aida 58 years ago: trumpets, slave girls, and how to translate “Giuseppe Verdi” into English. 

I settled into my seat in Illinois, and the conductor in New York lifted his baton.  The violins started playing the overture.  My mind immediately thought that this was all wrong.  Our sixth-grade music teacher did not play us violin music, she played us trumpet music.

Act two came to my rescue --- there was plenty of trumpet music.

But I was uncomfortable with the casting.  Aida was a slave girl in ancient Egypt.  In my mind, she should look emaciated and haggard.  The woman singing the role of Aida was well-fed and robust.  I know that you hire opera singers because of their voices, but surely, a woman with a double chin should not be singing the role of a slave girl.

Back in sixth grade, our music teacher, looking for a hook to get us interested in opera, told us that “Giuseppe Verdi” translates to “Joe Green”.

I was a volunteer in the school library at the time.  So was Steve Salorio.  One afternoon, Steve ran over to me and triumphantly announced that he had discovered someone checking out books using a false name.  A fifth-grader was using the name “Joe Green”.

To Steve and me, because we had just come from music class, it was obvious that the fifth-grader wasn't using his real name; instead he was playing off of Giuseppe Verdi’s fame.  Steve felt like he had unmasked an impostor.

The Metropolitan Opera HD simulcast lasted four hours. 

I got to hear trumpets.  I got to listen to a well-fed slave girl sing.  And I was reminded of the time when a fifth-grader was suspected of usurping the name of a famous Italian opera composer in order to check out books from an elementary school library.

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A YouTube video of the 1989 Triumphal March at the Metropolitan Opera (5 minutes).  Trumpets!!!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l3w4I-KElxQ

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NOTE: Doug's best stories have been collected into a book: Puppy Out Of Breath.  Price = $11.  You can purchase a copy at  http://www.puppyoutofbreath.com

Frankincense To Offer Have I

I have been in one and only one Christmas pageant.  I appeared on stage at Flower Hill Elementary School with two other guys.  We were the three kings.  I was destined to be king number two, the one who brought the frankincense.

When the music teacher chose me to be a king, I ran home to tell my mother.  Kings wear robes, and I expected my mother to sit down at her sewing machine and produce a kingly costume for me.  Instead, my mother pointed out that I already owned a robe.  Namely, a bathrobe.  That would be my costume…and my mother did not have to sit down at her sewing machine.

What about the frankincense I have to carry?  I expected my mother to go to her craft supplies and whip up something regal.  Instead, she handed me a music box she kept on the top of her dresser.  It held her powder puff and played Believe Me If All Those Endearing Young Charms when you lifted the lid.  That would be my prop…and my mother did not have to use any of her craft supplies.

So, I had my costume and my prop.  I memorized the words to We Three Kings of Orient Are, and I was ready to sing in public. 

The three of us walked slowly on to the stage singing the chorus in unison.  The king with the gold stepped forward and sang his verse solo.  Then I stepped forward and sang my verse solo.  Then the third king, who was bearing myrrh, stepped forward and burst into tears.

We heard a big PSSSSST coming from the music teacher, and we exited the stage at that point while king number three was still blubbering.

The Bible is a bit hazy about the Three Kings, but king number two is believed to be named Balthazar, who lived in Africa.  When I did some genealogical research on my father’s side of the family, I discovered that my family tree has two Balthazar Schneiders:  one born in 1792 and one born in 1828.

I have lived in Africa, in Sokoto State in northeastern Nigeria.  I once discovered frankincense on a list of exports for Sokoto State.  Frankincense is a resin, and I got someone to point out a frankincense tree to me.  I touched the tree.

I am related to two Balthazars.  I have lived in Africa and I have touched a frankincense tree.  I am not shy about wearing my bathrobe in public.

Yes, I was destined to be king number two.

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Here is a 4-minute video of Trace Adkins singing We Three Kings:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yMbn3hb_6y4

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NOTE: Doug's best stories have been collected into a book: Puppy Out Of Breath.  Price = $11.  You can purchase a copy at  http://www.puppyoutofbreath.com