Opera Notes

The three older girls and I got to see Cinderella today. Not the Disney character, but the opera by Rossini. It was Araceli's first opera, and she was excited enough to select an outfit that included every color of the rainbow, as well as an array of accessories and a handbag with a 6-year-old version of a 72-hour kit in it. (snacks, crayons, extra barettes, old party favors...) Scott and Free watched Transformers. They were in heaven in their cloud of manliness.
When I was a kid, my family had the same opera seats we still sit in. For some reason, I loved the opera. The rich red velvet curtain, the warming-up sounds from the orchestra pit, tragic tales of unrequited love...candy at intermission! My youngest brother didn't share my enthusiasm. Often, he wore headphones so he could listen to sports during the performance. Once, he cheered out loud during an aria. You can imagine how that went over with my parents, who would literally give you the evil eye for sniffing too loud.
Ari was so well behaved during the first act, I started to wonder if she was sick. I imagined myself holding my purse open so she could throw up in it. (Quietly, I was hoping.) But she wasn't sick, just enthralled with the performance. At intermission, I asked her how she liked it, and her reply was, "Let's go get candy." OK, so she knows the drill. I guess we don't all have to be rabid fans of Rossini at age six. At least she was entertained. If I was wondering whether the girls would get anything out of the experience, my brother answered it for me when we visited him after. When I said Rossini, he started singing a funny part of the Barber of Seville that we thought was hilarious as kids. (This isn't the headphone brother:).) Just the fact that Traj and I still have that joke in common was enough for me to look forward to taking the kids to their next opera. There are worse things that could make up the fabric of their childhoods.
We were lucky enough to run into my friend, Eli, after the opera. He plays his gamba or cello outside downtown events. The kids always look for him because he is so nice to them. Eli and I went to school together and lived in close proximity at the Rainier, if any of you remember that far back. Looking at the picture, it probably isn't apparent, but I see a man who helped me through some rough times in violin making school, and who offered me words of wisdom when I was too naive to have any of my own. To say Eli is plagued by demons doesn't do justice to the breadth of his intellect or the depth of his soul. If you see him pouring his heart into his music outside a Jazz game or a concert, know that he carries a universe of compassion and understanding, that he is a scholar and a thinker, and that he is my friend.