It's Easter weekend and Alexander Lingus shared some Holy Week music, courtesy of the Capella Romana archives. I listened a bit to those as well and thought how forced but sincere these efforts are. Patrick Stewart is reading a sonnet a day. The Royal Amsterdam orchesra produced a zoom performance of Ode to Joy that brought me to tears. Friends from my Portland symphony played Bach: a little stilted and without dynamic nuance, but they were all doing their best, listening to the principal violinist's part through headphones, recording with varieties of technology. I think, maybe I should try a Zoom rehearsal with my family or my friends. And then I think about the sheer effort of pulling together the technology. I can't even get Mom to clear out her tablet cache so she can unfreeze the screen and order groceries through Instacart. I have to do it for her.
Still, I am ahead of the curve here. I am comfortable with virtual connections; that's how I have been keeping in touch for the last several years, ever since I moved to New Mexico, in fact. My community is far flung, and my gregarious spirit is grateful for the possibilities offered by the ether.
A year ago, when I was very lonely, I listened to bird song and thought "sumer is a cumen in." Dad used to say that, and years ago I finally learned the tune and the words. My musical friend M taught it to me one day as we drove....where? I can't recall. Into the Gorge for a hike? Down to Eugene for a concert? It was someplace out of town, because we had plenty of time to learn the round. But, I have had no one to sing it with since then. M is in Portland, dealing with her increasingly debilitating MS.
I meant to visit her last fall when I was in town and ran into her husband. He has bought the Sovereign Gallery, down by the Heathman Hotel. It was owned by a friend who sold him many paintings back in the day. M and her husband hooked me up with that former gallery owner, a tall blonde man with a handsome Scandihovian face and engaging manners. We went to a CNW concert by Joseph Silverman, who performed all 6 Bach unaccompanied sonatas, playing beautifullyl by memory. I still remember sitting in the cramped cafeteria at Reed: this was before the concerts moved to Kaul Audidtorium. It was sweaty summer evening. The area by the stage was filled with cushions. Limber younger folk lounged on them while the rest of us sat bolt upright in tiered circles. I think that was my olnly date with the gallery owner. But the music was gorgeous.
Anyway, it was long ago, and I am alone, unable to share or make music in any but virtual ways. So, last year I set up my cell phone recorder and sang "Sumer is a cumen in," several times until I had a round. I shared it then and I'm sharing it now. Some day, I'll find someone, or several someones, and we'll sing it again.
I think I'll always want to sing, even when my voice is cracked with age, even when I'm isolated. But singing in the shower or on an empty trail does not bring the same joy of singing rounds around the campfire or driving through the prairie. And creating virtual music is a poor substitute for the resonance of music shared with others.
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