The transportive might of music, once again awestruck.
During the 60’s, my mother’s passion for experiencing New York’s cultural offerings exploded during Christmastime and always began with an expedition into the city for Menotti’s ‘Amahl and the Night Visitors’. This morning, with the first voice of “Amaaaaaaahl” on my player, the red breasted bird that lives in yonder tree, that I have named ‘Jane’ for my mother, few over to my window and listened with me.
Off I went. Mom, Menotti, life.
In 1970, I had taken a leave of absence from college to work in a state institution in the White Mountain of New Hampshire. A brutal, dark place from which I would retreat to my cottage and music when my shifts were finished. The music that companied my soul was Menotti’s opera “The Consul”. It freed up the sobs that needed releasing.
Fast forwarding to the early 80’s in Charleston, South Carolina, and the Spoleto Arts Festival, founded by Menotti.
The first few years of the festival coincided with my foray into the world of acting, which I had always dreamt about and had finally taken the plunge into. My very first play was a roller skate musical on the roof of a parking garage during the opening week of the festival. My terror seemed to motivate a brilliant performance, for which I had a standing ovation and Gian Carlo Menotti, unbeknownst to me, had been in the front row. He came forward, shook my hand and said “You are a very funny woman and an excellent actress.”
Hahaha.
And the next year I was his personal driver for the duration of the Spoleto Festival.
Oh Mom, you did it again. Tears and laughter and this time Amahl. Thank you and I love you.