April: Looking back, looking ahead

“Every spring is the only spring, a perpetual astonishment.” -Ellis Peters

11204887_10205714760681892_444853869013410021_nTo begin a post with a quote feels very “college-admissions-essay” to me, but Ellis Peters’ words seem especially fitting in these first days of May. Seemingly overnight, New York City has burst into exuberant, riotous bud and flower.  E. and I took a trip to the Brooklyn Botanic Garden on Sunday and the beauty was overwhelming.  The scent of lilacs wafted on the breeze, the rainbow-hued tulips were dazzling, and we were so happy to stroll in the springtime sunshine that our first sunburns of the season went unnoticed until the following morning.

But, as the song goes, “spring can really hang you up the most,” and that feels pretty goddamn true, lately, too.  Last week, I was devastated to learn that my first singing teacher and musical mentor died of breast cancer. During my wretchedly awkward early teenage years, Janet Stotts gave me a sense of self and of belonging in the world.  She was an extraordinary woman who touched thousands of lives, and I am deeply grateful to have been her student.

11205157_10205714768602090_7286000846154644776_nAnd, this being May, we are nearing the two-year anniversary of Joshua Wolff‘s passing.  Josh was a wonderful pianist and a dear friend, and he’s never far from my thoughts. I remember wandering in a daze through my lushly blooming neighborhood two springs ago, when Josh was ill, bewildered that the world could contain such heartbreaking suffering and loveliness at the same time.

I’m sorry.  I don’t mean to be a downer.  But there is something about the tender newness of spring that invites reflection on life’s opposites: yes, we are fragile and vulnerable, and our time here is short.  But there will always be a spring, audacious and resilient.  Isn’t that amazing?  No matter how bruised and battered we are by the harshness of winters both literal and metaphorical, the life force “that through the green fuse drives the flower” (Dylan Thomas) always reasserts itself.  And I am, indeed, perpetually astonished.

In April I…
Blogged about: March.  Lady Day at 100.* The “Charlie” to our “Angels,” Oded Lev-Ari (for DUCHESS).
*My Billie Holiday post was chosen by WordPress for the “Freshly Pressed” homepage, and was shared hundreds of times on social media.  I’m honored that the post resonated with so many people.

Watched: A Star Has Burnt My Eye, a mixed-media theatrical production that told the strange, sad story of the mysterious songwriter Connie Converse.  This show haunted me for days afterward.

Read: Station Eleven, by Emily St. John Mandel.  A poetic novel about a troupe of wandering Shakespearean actors and classical musicians, post-apocalypse (a flu has killed 99% of the world’s population).  This book explores questions about why we make art, and whether creative expression matters in the face of unspeakable horrors.  The way that the author interweaves her characters’ lives in this sprawling, yet cohesive story is masterful.

Listened to: Stevie Wonder, Songs In The Key Of Life.  LIVE!!!  Songs In The Key Of Life has been a part of my musical consciousness as long as I can remember.  Getting to see and hear Stevie Wonder perform this album live and in person was the thrill of a lifetime.  I pretty much wept for three hours.

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3 thoughts on “April: Looking back, looking ahead

  1. That juxtaposition of beauty and light with tragedy — it’s so poignant. My son’s father, my ex-husband, died instantly in a one-car crash on June 2, years ago. Our son was only eight. The day of the funeral in a small New Hampshire town, I wore a bright green dress. After the service, a bunch of us played Frisbee out on the lawn of the house John had shared with his second wife. It was so blazingly sunny and the air was so clear, there in the wide-open yard of an old farmhouse across the street from the river. Thanks for this post.

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