I wanted to start out the new year with a really positive post. I had laser surgery on my eyes and was looking forward to writing about my clear vision, and my excitement over my students’ upcoming college auditions. Then several things happened.

1.  My recovery from the operation was much more complicated than I expected. I had discomfort and blurry vision for a full week and a half, and just became functional as I began my teaching this week. So I got very little done in preparation for the new year. I have a syllabus to write for a class beginning the 19th (if it’s not cancelled – only 3 people have registered) and a recital to organize for the MacDowell Club.

2. My father died on Thursday of this week. He was 86, he had a leg amputated 2 years ago, he had the beginnings of dementia, he was on dialysis 3x a week and he had a necrotic foot. His little toe literally fell off the day before my eye surgery. But still, he and I were closer than my mother and I ever were and losing him is hard to fathom. Especially the part about “I’m an orphan now.”

3. My best student, who I was preparing for auditions, decided NOT to go into music. She wept about it but she decided that as much as she loves music and wants to perform, she doesn’t want to be a music major. I accepted it well – I kind of expected it based on a FB status she’d posted recently – but I’m so disappointed, not in her, but because I really, really believe she could have a major career. But she still intends to study, she still intends to sing, and all the colleges to which she’s applying have music departments in which she can participate, and who knows? She may change her mind. Then she can audition NEXT year.

On the positive side, my eyes feel MUCH better – I’d say today is the first day that I think my vision is at about 20/25 (I wake up with 20/20). And I got 4 new students this week and next, one of whom is cramming for auditions because she was working with someone who focused on technique to the exclusion of repertoire (something I can understand but NOT when someone is preparing for college auditions!).

So hopefully the next time I write, it will be from a position of clarity, visually, emotionally and personally. I will try to refrain from a title of “I can see clearly now,” but I may not be able to resist.

Yesterday was Andy Williams’ 82nd birthday and there was a flurry of postings of Andy Williams‘ song clips (Christmas and otherwise) to Facebook, which got me thinking of boys and men on whom I had crushes throughout my musical and personal development.

First, there was Alvin. Of course, this is somewhat disturbing, since 1) He is animated and 2) He is a chipmunk.

Then, of course, there was Paul and the Beatles.

When the 60s came to an end, the Beatles broke up and my tastes turned to the bubblegum boys who starred in shows like Here come the brides and The Partridge Family (although David didn’t do that much for me). When the movie Tommy came out, I fell for its leading man, Roger Daltrey. (My boyfriend at the time was a tall, thin, long-haired blond – my mother hated him which, of course, made me like him all the more.)

But my pop tastes were still firmly ingrained and I was still a sucker for the well-sung romantic ballad.

Once I started studying classical music, my musical choices became even more eclectic. The hot Latin tenor, Placido Domingo (even with a disco beat!), the gorgeous American baritone (complete with baritone hair), Thomas Hampson, Broadway’s Brian Stokes Mitchell, the late Jerry Hadley, and the perfect example of talent and personality being more attractive than the physical persona, Jason Alexander.

I’ll close with a seasonal favorite by the beautiful German tenor, Jonas Kaufmann (kinda looks like a dark-haired Heath Ledger, doesn’t he?).

Susan Eichhorn Young wrote a blog entry today about protecting your performance, which at its core was all about centering and finding stillness before a performance. It was an excellent blog and it got me thinking about the way I have found to work best for me in getting ready to perform.

I’ve read about performance preparation for years, and often, it was best summarized as “Shut up and contemplate your navel. Focus. Center.” I’ve always felt joyful before a show and wanted to jump up and down, talk to people, and be somewhat giddy about the upcoming performance. But this behavior often seems to make people think that I’m less than serious about my craft and somewhat frivolous.

I once threw an opening night party in the afternoon of the day the show opened. We invited about 50 people, most of whom were coming to the show that night. I had a great time – at about 5:30pm, I decided that I’d had enough and I needed to go in the house and be alone for a bit before I left for the theater. We had a great opening night. I gave one of my best performances ever.

But I’ve been told that this isn’t the right way to prepare for a show for me, that I should, again, contemplate my navel, not talk to anyone, and reserve my energies for the performance.  So back in April 2001, when I was preparing for the Kilpinen competition, I decided to try that. After all, I have had bouts of performance anxiety in the past, and maybe this was what it would take to finally conquer it.

I had heard about a monastery in Madison that rented rooms to the public, for people seeking solitude and quiet. And the rent was $33 per night. So I reserved a room/cell and went to Madison. There was no TV or radio in my room, of course. All the better to settle my mind and focus my energies. The next morning I went to the chapel and took part in a centering service and then walked the grounds. I think there was a labyrinth. Then I went back to my cell and read some meditative literature. I couldn’t practice there, obviously, but I felt like I’d have enough time to vocalize before the performance.

So I went to the theater, found a practice room and vocalized for awhile, got dressed for the show, and thought, “I’m calm, I’m centered, I am prepared,” and I walked into the performance space.

I have never been so freaked out in my entire life. I was shaking, I couldn’t get my breath low, and I was dry. So dry that I went for my high note on the word “fly” at the end of “Paper wings” and my upper lip stuck to my teeth as I hit the note and then came off in the middle of the vowel, so that the note sounded like … it’s impossible to describe in writing. Trust me, it was weird.

The whole experience put me off singing for awhile. I felt like I had regressed to my undergrad days and that the 20 years of professional experience I’d had up to that point were all for nothing.

But I’ve come to realize that my way of preparing involves letting the crazies out before I hit the stage, and if that means hopping around and being goofy, that’s my way of centering. I will give room to those people who need to sit in a corner and contemplate their navels but for me, that simply doesn’t work. “I hop, therefore I am.”

I wrote an entry awhile back about being grateful so perhaps writing another one for Thanksgiving is redundant. I don’t want to focus on individual people, accomplishments or occasions. I want to look at the big picture.

I am grateful for music. For everything that it has had to offer me for as long as I can remember. I am grateful for melody, for lyrics, for harmonies that grab you by the ear and won’t let go (I remember Jay Rader calling a particularly plump harmonic transition a “dirty chord,” and I know exactly what he meant). I am grateful for all its manifestations – opera, musical theater, symphonies, art song, pop songs, chamber works, solo instrumental pieces, folk songs, bluegrass, country music and rap. (Okay, for the last two I’m not all that grateful but they exist and they fulfill something for someone else.)

When I’m happy, I listen to music. When I’m unhappy, I need it all the more. I’m grateful for the creativity that music seems to trigger in me, and for any vague nurturing instinct I might have that is the result of teaching music.

I’m grateful that I’ve been able to earn a living because of music. I’m hopeful that music will open more doors in terms of my cabaret performances (new domain name coming in 2010 just for that endeavor!), in terms of more teaching opportunities at the college level, and more possibilities of performances and workshops (alone or with other performing/teaching partners). I’m grateful that the music education I’ve received, from 88th Street School to Hamilton HS to Alverno College to the Peabody Institute to all the NATS workshops and non-NATS programs (shout out to Somatic Voicework and Jeannie LoVetri!), has given me the information needed to make this work for me and for my students.

I’m grateful that music gave me a way to say a final goodbye to my mother, and to hopefully give some comfort to my father.

I am grateful for having married a man who once earned his living as a musician and has never begrudged my music for one moment. And I am grateful for Facebook and for being able to re-establish contact with those musical colleagues from 88th Street School to Hamilton HS to Alverno College (not so much there – wonder why?) to Peabody etc.

Franz von Schober said it so much better than I could (and Schubert set it so much better than I ever could):

Original German	English Translation
Du holde Kunst, in wieviel grauen Stunden, Wo mich des Lebens wilder Kreis umstrickt, Hast du mein Herz zu warmer Lieb’ entzünden, Hast mich in eine beßre Welt entrückt! Oft hat ein Seufzer, deiner Harf’ entflossen, Ein süßer, heiliger Akkord von dir Den Himmel beßrer Zeiten mir erschlossen, Du holde Kunst, ich danke dir dafür!	Oh gracious Art, in how many grey hours, When life’s fierce orbit ensnared me, Have you kindled my heart to warm love, Transfigured me into a better world! How often has a sigh escaping from your harp, A sweet, a sacred harmony of yours Thrown open the heaven of better times, Oh gracious Art, for that I thank you!

Of course, singers can still sing when they have a broken finger, so I guess it kind of evens out. Except that upper respiratory infections are far more likely to afflict the general population than broken fingers. (I was going to title this blog “A throat full of snot,” meant to be sung to the tune of “A heart full of love” from Les Mis but I thought it might be off-putting.)

I managed to stay plague-free ever since the advent of H1N1, despite my husband being in contact with sick people day in and day out, having kids harboring the virus entering my house daily, and now going to a college full of them 2x a week. What did it? What or who gave me, if not swine flu (God forbid), a raging head cold that caused me to cancel 2 days of students/income?

A small 2 year old child. That’s her. That’s the carrier. All I needed was to be exposed to her over a 2 day period and BAM, flat on my back. You know I’m not well when I cancel a day full of students who are not only among my favorites but several of them are paying me, to boot.

Of course, it was worse for my niece, Jessica. Or as I like to call her, Typhoid Jessie. (URI Jessie just doesn’t have the same ring, even though it’s more accurate.) The poor thing had so much congestion that she had to be hospitalized for a day and on oxygen. She’s better now, and so am I.

It is 6:22am – I should still be in bed for another half hour but I was tossing and turning. So here I am, in the Eau Claire Days Inn, writing about what I hope will be a great day. It just has to get better from yesterday!

Yesterday morning I got in the car to go teach at Carroll, thinking I’d leave a little earlier and run some errands pre-teaching. Put my key in the ignition – nada. Didn’t turn over, didn’t click. I got out, went to the end of the driveway, swore not-so-silently and not-so-under-my-breath, and looked around to see if my neighbor Ellyn was around so I could borrow her car to get to Carroll. Didn’t see her. Walked back to the car and thought, “I’ll try again.” It started. I got her running and got out to Carroll, hoping she’d make it there and that she’d start post-class. She did. I ran my errands after class, each time hoping the car would start when I got back to it. It did.

So I figured it was an aberration and drove the 3-3/4 hours to Eau Claire. And she ran until 6 blocks from the hotel, when the car’s lights all went out and she stopped – and then started back up. Got to the hotel and registered, went to move the car to the side of the hotel where my room is – and she stopped. I think it’s the alternator.

I am so fortunate – 1) That she didn’t stop while I was sandwiched between the myriad of semi-trailers I encountered; 2) That my hotel is across the street from a Toyota dealership; and 3) That I have a current AAA card.

And I hope the studio’s fortune also holds up today – today Kate Trotter, Ryan Stajmiger, Breanna Kaho and Magdelyn Monahan are all participating in the 2009 Wisconsin NATS auditions in the high school divisions for classical girls, MT boys and MT girls respectively. All are extremely well prepared and I have high hopes that at least one of them will go to the finals (which would make it 8 years in a row for the studio – but no pressure). We have no control over the outcome for this kind of thing, only the process, and they have done the work needed to do a good job.

And I hope that my car is ready so I can go home tomorrow!

I am so excited about so many things.

First of all, I’m studying with Connie Haas and starting to sing great “big-girl” music. I’m going to start working on some American arias including Augusta in Baby Doe, and I also want to work on some Baroque pieces. I’ve been enamored of Philipe Jaroussky lately, and it’s made me want to sing some Vivaldi arias.

And in my other singing life, Christine O’Meally, Cabaret Chanteuse, I have two gigs coming up: December 12 at Hart Park Square Retirement Community (A Christmas Gift is the working title) and Oh to be a movie star! at St. Camillus for the assisted living community. The first show has yet to be written. The second will need to be edited for time. (Cut the Titanic parody, for one.) I’m thinking Ryan and I should set up a website…. now what to call it/us?

MacDowell Club has asked me to co-ordinate an Irish themed recital for March 14 to be held at the Greendale Public Library. This is also exciting – I don’t want too much “die-dee-die-dee” music. I want to have people perform pieces that are either by Irish or Irish-derived composers or in the case of song literature, perhaps with Irish texts. I’d like to involve the Irish Fest Center/Ward Music Archives or the Irish Community Center as far as marketing. (Of course, marketing is my biggest pitfall. I have great ideas but getting them out there is another story.) I’m planning to sing several of the Barber Hermit Songs (texts by Irish monks, 11th-12th century). I’d like to have Kate Trotter sing some Yeats poetry set to music by various composers, possibly Milwaukee’s own Paula Foley Tillen. And Mary Rempalski Ohm told me about some pieces by a Minneapolis composer, who I contacted – and then asked Mary if she wanted to come down and sing them.

Nervous about approaching instrumentalists. Why? It’s that singer vs. musician mindset which is, unfortunately, all too prevalent not only among singers but among conductors and instrumentalists themselves. I need to get over it. I’m sure we can get a good program going, but I’d like it to be varied, not just all singers. Although getting Kurt Ollmann and Bill Lavonis on the program wouldn’t be a bad thing…. Hmm…..

I also want to write a program for Mother’s Day for the Milwaukee Gay Arts Center. Becky Spice always said that if I didn’t write a show about my mother, she would do it. I have some ideas, one I’m going to try out at Renate’s memorial service. I think it’s respectful. Actually, I think it’s kind of dear, and if it goes well, I’ll write about it post-memorial service. (If it’s a train wreck, I won’t.)

After my parents went to Florida, I wrote that it might have been the last time I ever saw them.

It was. At least it was the last time I saw my mother. She passed away last Tuesday, October 6. Although she was older than my dad, it was a surprise. He had been ill for weeks before and had almost died a couple of times – the hospital was even talking about releasing him to hospice care, but then he rallied and wound up going back to the nursing home to be with my mother, who was his life. Even more than his children were – she was the center of his universe.

But my mother, even though she was primarily speaking in Estonian toward the end (and unlike the non-Yiddish-speaking Boris Thomaschefsky in the song “The King of All Broadway” in The Producers, she actually did speak Estonian!) and wasn’t always sure who the people visiting her actually were, she showed no signs of any life-threatening illnesses. We all thought that in 2020, Willard Scott would say, “And celebrating her 100th birthday is Renate Bojic. She’s pretty as a picture and everyone just loves her.” (I don’t know which would’ve freaked me out more – Renate living to be 100 or Willard still doing those Smucker’s birthday tributes.) But one morning, the nurse went in to check on them, really being more concerned about Marko, and found Renate looking blue and her breathing labored. She was rushed to the hospital and was gone within 90 minutes.

And I am feeling – I don’t know what I’m feeling. I had an initial wave of sorrow. I haven’t decided if it was sorrow for her passing, sorrow for my not getting to see her again (that realization hit me the next in, of all places, my core class at the WAC), sorrow for my father — sorrow for who she was at the end of her life and who she’d been during my childhood. I’m relieved. I’m numb.

All I can think of is how much I wish I could tell her about Boston and how much I love it. But the woman she was since her stroke wouldn’t have gotten it – and the woman of the last 10 years probably wouldn’t have appreciated it. She would have told my dad that I thought I was so high and mighty, going on trips all over the place. We didn’t used to have that kind of relationship. Before I became more in touch with my own emotional needs, I could tell her anything. Once I became more self-aware (and I don’t think more self-absorbed), I couldn’t. She couldn’t take joy in my joys or my accomplishments. So I shared fewer and fewer with her in those last 10 years.

I feel numb. And sad (kinda). And determined not to live my life the way she lived it, which was letting life happen to her, not being pro-active, not taking risks.

Back to singing next week. Just had to follow up. And I suspect there will be another follow-up regarding Marko before long. Or maybe he’ll be on Willard Scott in 2023.

This is the format that I would like you to use for your voice lessons.

Title should include the Date, Lesson # and your name.

Body of journal:

Your Student’s Name:
Lesson length:
Voice Type (if known):

Discussion:
In this section, just note how much time was spent discussing general things – health, amount of time practiced (NOTE: this CAN get away from you sometimes!)

Physical Warmups:
List what kind of warmups you did and how long you spent on them.

Vocalises:
List the vocalises used (you may use solfege or numbers, whatever is easier for you, or you may reference exercises in Miller, e.g. “2.13”). Indicate on what pitch you began the exercise and how far you took it in each direction.

Also indicate what your intention was for the exercise – breath managemnt, resonance, alignment, articulation, phonation (onset/release), as well as agility/sostenuto, range, registration, etc.

Indicate how long the vocalise portion of the lesson took.

Repertoire: Name of Song(s)
Indicate who selected the song, if it was you or the student and what you hope to gain from using that particular song. Indicate time spent on each song (unlikely you’ll cover more than one per lesson).

Post-lesson Analysis:
How did it go? What did you encounter? What was successful and what was not successful? Was the student cooperative? Did he/she seem confused or not understand you at any point? How do you think you could be clearer? Is there anything I can help you with that would make the next lesson easier for both you and the student?

Student goal for the next lesson:
What have you asked your student to work on?

Your PERSONAL goal for the next lesson:
What do YOU want to work on? How will you prepare for the next time you see this person, based on what you learned today?

Tomorrow, Ryan and I perform our 2nd cabaret show, If Music Be the Food of Love: A Culinary Cabaret at the Times Cinema Theater, 5906 West Vliet Street, Milwaukee. The show starts at 1:30pm, and will be followed by the 1996 movie Big Night.

I like pairing shows with movies that share a theme. The last time we did our movie show and followed it with Singin’ in the Rain. Not really the same theme except we sang about movies, old and new, and then watched a classic film. This time, we are doing a show about food and how the subject of food is used in song as a metaphor for finding love, losing love, sex, as status, as a way of saying goodbye, in marketing, and as entertainment. I’m very excited about the show – I like all the songs we’ve picked and I think we’ve put them together very creatively. And the movie is one of my favorites, starring Monk‘s Tony Shalhoub and Stanley Tucci (Julie & Julia, which I haven’t seen yet). It’s about two Italian brothers who come to 1950s New Jersey to open an authentic restaurant and are met with skepticism from a market that thinks nothing but spaghetti & meatballs is REAL Italian food.

We’ve been marketing this show much more than we did our May show. Our February show was full, even though our marketing was primarily via Facebook – but that didn’t work for May. We put up a lot of posters, mailed postcards, and did a lot of BOGO deals for my students, WAC members, neighborhood association members. I’m hoping it pays off. Even without a BOGO deal, $15 for a live show + a great movie is a steal. So please come – we’re good, really! 😀