The very beginning.

(A very good place to start)

Two weeks ago we undertook the cleaning of our house. That was an ordeal. We're not by nature tidy, so we become so by artifice when we are trying to make a decent impression. (Pay no attention to the dust bunnies behind the curtain...) So, the wind-up to the very long two weeks we have just finished up began with a mop and several scrubbing tools. Cleaning accomplished, we started in on the fun.

Thursday night two weeks ago, we had friends over for dinner. That was a first since we moved, and a welcome change! Dan made pizza. They brought PS2 and some karaoke-style games featuring pop and rock hits, mostly from the 80s. I discovered just how culturally illiterate Dan and I can be, in that we don't know the pop music that we should given our ages. I may have known a few more songs than he did, but either way, we were outclassed. We had lots of fun and I hope we'll have that opportunity again soon. The video of Dan singing Madonna's "Like a Virgin" with our male guest will remain unseen but on file. Someday it may come in handy.

Mom and Dad arrived in town the next day. That was also the night of our dress rehearsal for the concert. We were late for rehearsal -- a very big no-no -- because, among other things, we got ourselves stuck in some of the internal roads in Duke University that Google maps thinks should have taken us to our destination. They didn't. Our late arrival meant I got the end spot on the top riser. The curvature of the risers was such that my side was parallel to the front of the stage. I couldn't help feeling rather exposed there, and I was terrified about that because with as few rehearsals as I had, I was not confident that I could sing accurately or do anything like singing "in character," which we'd been asked to do to bring the opera scenes (in other languages) to life for the audience. I was so upset about being late that I found myself having internal monologue something like this:

"Doh! You are such a loser to be late!"
"I know, and I am annoyed about it, believe me."
"Well, never mind. Now you have to sing anyway."
"I know, but I can't concentrate on singing because I am annoyed."
"You don't have a choice, you know."
"Yes. But maybe if I scowl as I sing it will somehow make it all better. I don't want to be flippant."
"Don't be ridiculous. The professional thing to do now that you are here is to give your all and get into character."
"Shush. I am trying to sing here."
"Good luck with that."

I discovered at the end of rehearsal that the end spot on the top riser also meant that (lucky me) I got to be the first one on the stage when all 130-ish of us (several people skipped out on this concert) took to the stage. Actually, Rodney suggested to the group that I switch spots with a more seasoned choir member, but all of my fellow second Sopranos replied to that with, "You'll be fine." So, with a bit of coaching from Rodney (he'd rather I walk too slowly than too quickly in order to keep the pace reasonable for not-so-mobile choir members who were climbing two flights of stairs from the basement of the theatre in order to get to the stage) and from Dave, who was arranging logistics (Music away from the audience, up the side of the risers, then across), I was as ready as I was going to be.

On Saturday, Mom, Dad, Dan and I went to the local farmer's market. We spent quite a while browsing, while Dad made new friends with several talkative people. We had the not-entirely-unusual experience of meeting someone who had moved to our town from Riverside, CA. She overheard us talking about So Cal and had to talk to us. She said that meeting people from "home" eased the home-sickness she sometimes feels here. She, like everyone else we have met so far, said she loved living here, but her teen-aged daughter did not love it and when time came to go to college, she shipped back off to California. Wares examined, we bought some vegetables and some blondies on the way out and walked back home.

Mom and Dad ran off for a bit in the afternoon, leaving Dan and I one last opportunity to cram opera choruses into our heads. I also had one last chance to try to find which combination of black floor-length, long-sleeved clothing items I would most likely wear. The long-sleeved requirement ruled out my polyester "shroud" from California. Oh yeah... I threw it out when we moved for some indiscernible reason.

We were determined not to be late to the concert, so we headed out to Durham almost 3 hours early, stopping to eat at Tyler's Taproom before trying doors on the old theatre and hanging out in the basement for an hour waiting for everyone else to arrive. We were early. Very early. My frame of mind for the actual concert, as a result, was much more positive.

We were the second half of the program. The first half we were able to watch from the balcony. The soloists were really quite marvelous. The tenor's voice was amazing, and the Soprano was an excellent actress. Her voice didn't have the qualities that my favorite sopranos tend to have (I tend to prefer voices without quite so much vibrato), but she was a joy to watch anyway.

After the intermission, I did, in fact, lead the choir onto the stage. Mom (speed-walker that she is) reported that it was painful to watch me walk on because I had followed directions. Even so, there were gaps. I also noted that the first person to begin each new row seemed to feel exposed and started across the stage at a near run. (I think maybe next time all of the row leaders need the same coaching I got.)

Our portion of the concert went quite well, I believe. I think it was recorded, so I hope to be able to listen to it eventually to get a feel for just how we sounded. Mom and Dad were very impressed with the quality of the choir. I believe one of them remarked that it was amazing to see how all of us could come in and cut off so uniformly with so many voices. I was, as always, paranoid that I had somehow ruined the concert... but it seems that Rodney and our audience members were pretty uniformly happy with the way the concert turned out in spite of me and my neuroses. I know Dan and I felt quite humbled by the experience, and we remain very pleased to be a part of this group.