How Do You Get to Carnegie Hall?

Carnegie PlaybillPractice helps. But there’s a much easier way, and I imagine a much more common way: You pay for it.

From its beginning, Carnegie was a rental hall.  I looked up the price for renting it, should you feel so inclined. Without putting in a lot of effort, I found the going price in 2014 for the Stern auditorium (the main stage) for a Friday or Saturday evening was $16,000.

Not sure how many hours that covers, but remember you can do anything you want and no auditions required. You could even play your kazoo, if you wanted.

Another option – and this is the one Husband chose – is to join a choir that’s been invited for a special event. Continue reading “How Do You Get to Carnegie Hall?”

Good Theology for Good Friday

wp_20170104_14_18_20_proHello Friends.

I’ve skipped a couple weeks of Bad Theology posts. Did you notice?

It wasn’t that I wasn’t finding plenty examples of Bad Theology, only I got involved in setting up a Facebook page for this blog. But now I’m back.

Though for today we’re gonna take a little detour toward Good Theology, with a little help from Jim Croce. Continue reading “Good Theology for Good Friday”

Do You Hear What I Hear?

reindeerWhen I was a young lass, I believed Christmas songs were like homemade cookies. There was no such thing as a bad one.

Then someone shared their mom’s cookies made with raisins, dates and orange peel, and my childhood innocence was lost forever. Continue reading “Do You Hear What I Hear?”

Ye Olde Family Band Picture

Remember a few weeks ago, when you saw my old family photo? Well, in my hunt for that pic, I came across this one, which I didn’t even know I had. This is a picture of my four great-uncles (Father’s side), in their youth, in their own band!

Do you suppose they practiced in the garage?

four men with instruments

Okay, so on drums is Peter, Andrew is on trombone, George plays coronet, and playing – what is that? – a baritone? That’s Joe.

Devilishly handsome gents, don’t you think? Especially Andrew. But then, there’s just something about trombone players.

Father guessed this photo to be taken around 1895. If that’s the case, Grandfather (not pictured) would have been about 11 or 12. Maybe they considered him too young for the band, considering they were hoping to impress the ladies. (I mean, they had to be, right? Otherwise, why would Uncle George be wearing those spiffy striped trousers?)

And now I invite Brian from Bonnywood Manor to give us his take on the picture. Brian, if you want to copy the photo over to your blog, you have my permission. 😀


Extroverts Are Cute

sunshine-2Recently I volunteered at a community concert thing-a-ma-jig. Lest you imagine that makes me a caring, noble creature, I did it because it got me a free ticket to the thing-a-ma-jig.

They asked me to usher, which just goes to show how little they knew me. Somehow I thought I’d be alone in a ticket booth, or maybe asked to count money (which between you and me, I really like to do). As it was, my main job was standing at a door and tearing tickets in half.

It’s a tough job, but someone’s gotta do it.

With me was a little-old-lady named Lorraine. She stood about four feet tall and I’m guessing weighed about 80 pounds. Lorraine’s job was handing out the programs. She also smiled constantly, greeted each patron and chatted. A lot. Lorraine was chatty.

I don’t know about you, but when I meet a really chatty person — such as Lorraine — I assume they’re not the brightest bulb in the socket. (It’s a prejudice of mine, I know.) Turns out Lorraine had been a concert organist, holds a doctorate in Music music-notesPerformance, played with the Michigan Symphony and taught at Arizona State.

She contracted polio as an infant and was in an iron lung for … um, a long time. I don’t remember the specifics. She also went through two bouts of cancer and is a firm believer in the medicinal value of lemon peels.

My part in the above conversation primarily consisted of: “Oh really? … Huh … Yeah … That’s interesting … Uh-huh … Yeah … Wow … Really? … Wow …”

I think if I were a psychologist, I would make a study of extroverts. Of course, the tricky thing would be to find a way to study them where they didn’t rush over to me, ask me how I was doing, perform a song and dance for me, and proceed to introduce me to every blame person in the nearby vicinity who they only just met a short while ago but are now their life-long friends.

I mean, my God, who are these people?! Where do they come from?

And where do they get all that energy? 🙂

Music and Dance

sunshine-2Have you ever had a week that started out badly and went downhill from there? Each new day you’d think, “Well, at least it can’t get any wor … oh shit. It totally can.”

That describes my past week at work. Home was fine, work was crap. Friday rolls around and I did not want to go to work. Ever. Again. Do we really need this paycheck?

When I’m in contemplative, serious moods like this, I listen to our classical station, KBAQ. It helps me process my thoughts better than anything else, even silence. So there I am in the car, sitting at a traffic light by a high school, gripping the steering wheel and gloomily staring out the window. The station was playing this, a piece by Manuel de Falla:

I noticed a kid waiting at the crosswalk. He was probably 15 or so, was completely alone, and guess what? He was dancing! But not any modern type of dancing. His hands were raised, he was snapping his fingers — he had this whole Zorba the Greek thing going on. And here’s the incredible thing: it totally matched the music in my car!

Okay, now just try and tell me life isn’t magical. Seriously. When moments like this come along, you just have to smile.

And yes, before you ask, my Friday turned out to be a very lovely day indeed. Thanks to some great music and a young man gettin’ his Zorba on. 🙂