My Two Cents

To be Amish in Office Max

Mon, 8 Feb 2010 09:30:04 -0600

I am looking back on this weekend of Magic Flute performances with such gratitude and joy. The Friday night performance, about which I was so nervous, went quite well and was enthusiastically received. . . and then Saturday turned out to be altogether better in every way, with an even bigger audience even more excited about what they had seen and heard. In fact, the closest thing to an outright mishap involved two moments with the Roland electric keyboard on which I produced the sound of the flute, bells, and thunder. Saturday night I think it was the first time I was supposed to play thunder that I neglected to have the keyboard switched to sound effects, so I played a high flute tone when we were first supposed to be hearing scary thunder. Oops. And at the end of the show, I tried to get fancy by sustaining the thunder with one finger while playing with the other hand on the grand piano, and at one point I missed the thunder key (a-flat) and hit the key for bird calls instead. It was just for a split second, but it was a bit odd to suddenly hear the sound of a happy parakeet in the midst of what was supposed to be frightening thunder. Oh well- at least it wasn’t the sound of a toilet flushing or a cattle stampede.

Actually, it was while I was setting up the keyboard for Saturday’s performance that I suddenly realized that the sound effects array included a very convincing wind sound that could help the audience feel like they were in northern Wisconsin in the middle of winter- so we ended up using that at the very top of the show and at one point during act two. And since one of the main characters, Papageno, is a bird-catcher, we decided to use some bird sounds at one point as well. It was an inexpensive way to insert a couple other touches of magic into our bargain basement (though highly imaginative) production.

As I look back on the weekend, which also included much appreciated (if all too brief) reunions with some former voice students like Ben Kuttler, Anthony Gullo, and Trevor Parker- who all attended Magic Flute- one of the most challenging undertakings was for me to get the printed program put together. I volunteered to do this, but I was the last person who should have been taking this on. (Picture Dolly Parton volunteering to sing Aida at the Met. One might admire her pluck while doubting her sanity.) I’m a great typist (thank you, mom, for the genes) but when it comes to getting fancy with a printed program, I know next to nothing- especially when it comes to the standard format of a program that looks like a small booklet. I know there’s a slick way to do that, but I don’t have a clue on just how to do it, so I had to adopt a model of a single 11 X 14 sheet that would fold down top to bottom rather than side to side. That way, I didn’t have to get into the whole mess of separate columns and back-to-back pages. But then I realized that I didn’t know how to create a template that’s 11 X 14 (again, I know it’s not impossible- just impossible for someone as ignorant as me, with no time to educate himself).

So. . . I put together the Magic Flute printed program with literal cutting and pasting. I printed up all of the basic elements that needed to be in the program- cast list, list of thank you’s, synopsis, director’s note, cover material, etc. - and all in various sizes - and then spent about an hour and a half at Office Max cutting apart what I had printed into little strips and then laboriously laying them out and trying to get them to be nice and straight and properly spaced on the page - and of course, once things were as I wanted them, I had to go in with my bottle of Liquid Paper and paint over all of the seams so the edges of those strips of paper wouldn’t show up as unsightly lines. And it was only when I had finally created an adequate master that it was time to start duplicating them.

As I did all this, and especially in the first phase involving all of the laborious cutting and pasting, I felt so Amish . . . like a horse-drawn carriage in a NASCAR world. But now I look back and realize that it actually worked out so nicely for me to be occupied like I was. If I hadn’t been busy getting the program together, I would have spent Friday afternoon grinding myself up with worry about that night’s performance and all that could go wrong. It was so much more soothing to have this project to do - and for there to be so many steps I had to methodically follow in order for it to get done. With all that, there was no time for pointless fretting.

I use the term “Amish” very specifically because I remember reading once that the Amish have emphatically resisted the modernization of technology in their farm work not because it’s beyond them- but because they do not want the work they do to be made too efficient. . . too quick. They see real value in the time it takes to sow their crops - or harvest them - with the old methods. It takes time / it takes teamwork / and it also fosters a deeper appreciation for and connection with the land itself.

Of course, it’s not like I made some wise, reasoned decision to spend my Friday afternoon cutting and pasting at Office Max. I did it because when it comes to word processing, I’m the Village Idiot - and this was literally the only way I could get the job done. And in this one instance at least, the long, laborious way was also the best way.

Isn’t life strange sometimes?

pictured above: a look at my cutting and pasting project Friday afternoon

Magic Trick

Fri, 5 Feb 2010 23:29:29 -0600

Tonight was the opening night of The Magic Flute, and I am thrilled and relieved and even a bit surprised to say that the audience absolutely loved what they saw and heard tonight. It feels odd to wrote those words - and if any cast members happen to read them, I wouldn’t blame them if they came after me with pitchforks. But the honest truth is that as our first performance loomed before us, both Matt (the stage director) and I found ourselves chasing our tails with worries of one kind or another - Matt worrying about whether or not his off-beat, whimsical concept would connect with the audience . . . and me worrying about how well the performance would go. And my worries ratcheted up by a factor of ten when I made my entrance and saw President Campbell sitting in the third row. He is not only the chief executive of the college, but also an astute opera fan with season tickets to the Lyric.

I am so pleased to say that he thoroughly enjoyed it . . . and so did my colleagues in the department who were there. . . and so did every member of the audience with whom I spoke. People seemed to be utterly charmed by the production and didn’t seem to miss the polished, glitzy costumes or dazzling lighting effects that are often part of opera productions. The simplicity and sense of fun of our production seems to have worked its magic maybe even better than either Matt or I ever imagined it could.

It was also neat to see the cast enjoying that special exchange of energy that occurs when they finally have a live audience on hand - and a couple of the singers who are so new to all this did not shrink away from the moment. It was as though a great wind was filling their sails (not to get too extravagant with the metaphors) and it was a thrilling thing to witness.

There was a mishap at the keyboard but it had nothing to do with the Roland Electronic keyboard that I was so worried about. About five minutes into the performance, as I’m pounding my way through the dramatic introduction, I heard a strange sound from inside the grand piano. . . and very quickly it became apparent that I had broken a string. And for the rest of the night, I grappled with the challenge of how to play the score of The Magic Flute without hitting the broken B-flat. It meant trading certain things down an octave- other things up an octave- and hoping all the while that the singers wouldn’t be rattled by unfamiliar sounds. Actually, I tend to play a little loose with accompaniments - even when it’s Mozart - so I guess the singers are well-conditioned to roll with the musical punches.

So tonight, I will probably be playing on the other Steinway - and perhaps playing a little more gently, although it’s hard to stem the excitement that a show like The Magic Flute inspires.

Tonight’s performance is at 7:30.

pictured above: notes being given to the cast after their final dress rehearsal.

Flutes, Bells, and Alarm Clocks

Wed, 3 Feb 2010 23:12:15 -0600

We took it up a notch with tonight’s “Magic Flute” rehearsal -our second to last rehearsal - which was by far our best run- through yet. Our cast seemed to achieve that fantastic sense of “flow” in which they’re working hard yet so secure that it doesn’t even look or feel like work. Another way to put it is that they’re starting to handle all of the little details so well that the overall performance has gained a natural ease that is so essential for a piece like this to work.

One thing which seemed to create some extra excitement amongst the cast was when they arrived in Siebert Chapel to find me seated not only at the Steinway grand piano, but also at a Roland electronic keyboard which I borrowed from fellow voice teacher Amy Haines. The reason I am using the electronic keyboard is so I can produce three special sounds that are essential to bringing this story fully alive. . . Tamino’s magic flute, Papageno’s magic bells, and finally the sound of thunder, which is especially helpful for this particular production, which is not exactly a special effects cavalcade. It’s incredible how the authentic sound of thunder can really lend some grandeur to certain crucial entrances and exits that ideally would be done in a great plume of smoke or flame- but for us are basically people walking in and out of the room.

For those of you who have never seen how sound effects work on a keyboard, you press a couple of buttons to switch from musical sounds to special effects- and once you’ve done that, each key of the keyboard produces a different sound effect. . . everything from a telephone ringing to a dog barking to water running. . . to a dynamite blast. . . to crickets chirping. I need to make sure I press the high A-flat key or I might end up producing the sound of a rooster crowing when it’s frightening thunder that we need.

Actually, the thunder part is not all that hard- what are trickier are the music passages where I am playing the right hand melody on the electronic keyboard and the left hand of the accompaniment over on the real piano. That feels weird- a little like that simple trick where you pat the top of your head while rubbing your stomach in a circular fashion. I’m not too good at that - or even walking and chewing gum at the same time - but I do seem to have a knack for playing two keyboards at the same time. (If The Doors ever get back together but Ray Manzanek doesn’t feel like handling the keyboards, I’m available!)

Probably the thing which is hardest for me to remember is that when I play the thunder, I have to turn the volume up to about 80% - but when it’s time to play the flute or the bells, I need to turn it back down to about 20% or I’m likely to deafen everyone in the first two rows of the audience- and since that’s where President Campbell is likely to be sitting, a misstep like that would be especially unfortunate! So wish me luck that I remember to watch my volume levels - and that I don’t hit any terrible clunkers - or press the wrong button and end up with sitar or accordian when it’s celesta that I want! If I can avoid any and all of those potential pitfalls, I think I’ll be okay!

So will the show. We have a gifted cast who have been working hard. . . and I am hoping that the audience will be willing to take a chance on a production that takes this beloved story and transplants it to modern day Wisconsin. The costumes and props basically all came from the students and their own closets - which gives all this a real “hey, let’s put on a show!” sort of feeling , which I think is what stage director Matt Boresi had in mind. And I think that’s one reason why our cast seems to have taken ownership of this production in an exceptional way. And I can’t think of anything more profoundly beneficial for our young singers than to know that they helped to create this show in a very real and tangible way. It was not just handed to them. They have helped make this happen.

So come if you can and see our whimsical take on The Magic Flute. Performances are Friday and Saturday nights, 7:30, in Siebert Chapel. Admission is free. I can promise you a fun time and some fine music-making. And if nothing else, you’ll be entertained just watching me try to keep my score from flopping closed while conducting the singers and playing Mozart’s score. And if I press the wrong key and you suddenly hear the sound of a toilet flushing where there should be awe-inspiring thunder, Hey that’s Entertainment!

pictured above: practicing with the Steinway grand piano and the Roland electronic keyboard.

Betty and Boop

Mon, 1 Feb 2010 07:26:10 -0600

If yesterday morning was a tear-drenched sob fest at the imminent departure of Pastor Jeff Barrow, the afternoon banquet and program was a chance to shed all of the sorrow (or most of it, anyway) and enjoy some laughter. Lots of laughter, in fact- which is only right when the person at the heart of the matter is Jeff Barrow. As his former associate pastor Kris Capel said last night, (this is a paraphrase) Jeff is an inviting and even irresistible target for roasting. And it felt good for everyone- including Jeff himself- to have the emotional pressure cooker of the day turned to a different setting than “Grief Stricken.”

The event happened at Racine’s Roma Lodge, which was the site of other celebrations including the 25th anniversary of Jeff’s ordination and the farewell for Pastor Walter. Ticket sales were a little slow right off the bat (Holy Communion has never been great at bursting from the blocks at the sound of the starter’s pistol) but by the deadline we were at 396 guests--- which meant that we were packed together like a gigantic box of crayons--- but as problems go, it was a great one to have. After the meal there were some heartfelt words of appreciation from Jeff’s sister Marilyn, a neat video montage of photographs from Jeff’s life and ministry, and a few words of remembrance from a former associate pastor at Holy Communion, Kris Capel, who couldn’t be there in person but who managed to email some remarks that were read aloud and much appreciated.

And then the craziness began. . . Holy Communion is so blessed to have in its ranks a man named Tom Spraker, the former director of theater at Park High School in Racine. Once again he came up with a beautifully crafted skit that got everybody laughing even as it served up a last little bit of poignancy. It was a look back over some important milestones in Jeff’s life, including the moment when he announced to his parents that he wanted to become a pastor (evidently discarding his previous dream of becoming “a rodeo clown”) - the comical scene where he proposed marriage to Katie in a utility closet, nearly incapable of making himself understood because of recent jaw surgery - and a scene from up at Wilderness Canoe Base where the kids are hard at work and making do with their meager provisions while Jeff is whooping it up back at the lodge, chowing down on a cheeseburger and fries. (Some poetic license gets taken in these skits.) The skit was nicely written but what made it even more entertaining was seeing it brought to life by various members of the congregation- some of whom are well-known hams and theatrical creatures - complete with costumes and props.

Here’s where we get to the aforementioned <Betty & Boop>.
One of the earlier vignettes in the skit talked about Jeff falling in love with country western music.... and how his favorite song is - and this happens to be true - “Pissin’ in the Wind” by Jerry Jeff Walker. (You can just tell by his name that the guy’s not an opera singer.) The narrator then said “we’re sorry to say that Mr. Walker was unable to be with us today, but in his place, we’re pleased to present Betty and her husband Boop!” And at that point, my wife Kathy and I entered the room, decked out in the deep-fried country music duds that you see pictured above. And what made it even funnier was that Kathy waltzed into the room (I don’t know how to spell sah-shayed) like she owned the place, while I followed behind in my pink shirt and cowboy hat, head slightly bowed, looking like I would rather be any place else, doing anything else. The place erupted in laughter- the kind of laughter where you fear that someone might be rupturing essential organs. . . but the biggest laughs probably came when we finally took our place on the stage and I announced to the crowd that “this is NOT “Pissin’ in the Wind’ “ - and then in the next breath said “and by the way, that’s the first time in my whole life that I’ve ever said that word.” (Absolutely true, by the way.) Kathy and I then proceeded to sing another Jeff Barrow favorite, “Friends in Low Places,” a big Garth Brooks hit. I can’t say that it was the summit of my life as a musician, but it was absolutely priceless to look out at that audience- and especially Jeff- and see him grinning with such delight.

And then, a few minutes later in the skit, the narrator brought the narrative closer to the present by recounting how Jeff came to Holy Communion in 1991, and joined a staff there which included a certain minister of music named Greg Berg who was known from time to time to actually compose a piece of music right on the spot - in the words of the narrator - “probably in the hopes that an extra song might prompt Jeff to shorten his sermon.” At that point, I walked back into the room, this time back in my normal clothes (that pink shirt having been banished to the incinerator out back) - and writing furiously in a manuscript book as I walked, as though I were frantically finishing up the song. I took the stage, sat down at the electric piano, wrote a couple more things on the page, and then proceeded to sing “The Preacher Man from Montana.” It started out rather softly with these words describing Pastor Jeff:

A learned man, yet one of the guys
a fun-loving goof, yet surprisingly wise
Nothing fancy, nothing frilly,
sensitive and yet a little bit silly . . .

and then the tempo suddenly took off like gangbusters, in full-bore country western style, with the refrain:

He’s the Preacher Man from Montana
Not Nevada, Maine or Indiana.
Not California or Louisiana.
He’s the Preacher Man from Montana.

verse two:
Fond of buying clunky cars
still dreams of being a softball star
tough as nails but soft as cotton
heart as tender as a gentle baby’s bottom. . .

verse three:
Quick to laugh but not afraid to cry
Loves to sweat at the local “Y”
Happiest in the boundary waters
paddling with our church’s sons and daughters. . .

verse four:
A holy man who loves to cuss
especially about that dang-dung bus*
A reverent man and quite a scholar
but when the Packers blow it, listen to him holler!

verse five:
And when we’re sad & scared & blue
He knows just what to say or do.
Devoted husband - loving father -
& a favor for a friend is never too much bother. . .

. . . for the preacher man from Montana. . .

And for a bit of added fun at the end, I inserted a few seconds from the famous musical theme to the movie “The Magnificent Seven” to reinforce the image of the Old West.
The song went over like gangbusters, I’m relieved to say, and managed to embody the sense of fun and affection we were aiming for in this program.

As much as writing that song was a labor of love- and as much as wearing that pink shirt and singing (and learning) “Friends in low places” was also a labor of love - I sort of feel like the most generous thing I did all weekend was late Saturday night when I sat hunched over the laptop, watching one video after another of the song “Happy Trails to You” by Roy Rogers and Dale Evans. This was the finale of the skit and Tom wanted the entire song sung, including a bridge that I could not find anywhere. I watched/listened to five different renditions of Happy Trails with RR and DE themselves, and in none of them did they sing this part of the song. Nor did Lynn Anderson. Nor did that part of the song show up in several different amateur performances, some of which were staggeringly awful. (At that point, having listened to ten different renditions of “Happy Trails” I was thinking to myself “I’ve done a lot of nice things for Jeff Barrow over the years, but this is maybe the nicest of all.”) And then - finally - I hit paydirt with a video of a small amateur group who appear to be singing the song in a nursing home. They may not have been paragons of good intonation but at least they sang the bridge of the song! And it allowed us to sing “Happy Trails” as a heartfelt send-off for Pastor Barrow. . . the tears of the morning having given way to smiles, coupled with the lump in the throat that is inevitable when such a fun chapter in our lives is over and the next chapter has yet to be written.

* the bus to which I’m referring in the song is a bus that Jeff persuaded the church to purchase, but it turned out to be the world’s biggest tin can on wheels. That one vehicle was more than a lemon- it was a whole grove of lemon trees. Any tribute to Jeff Barrow is incomplete without reference to this infamous misstep in his ministry.

Things are gonna work out fine . . .

Sun, 31 Jan 2010 20:38:36 -0600

Today was the big farewell for Rev. Jeff Barrow, the senior pastor at Holy Communion for the past 18 years, and as I look back on the day, I am most struck by the difference between the morning church services and the afternoon banquet and program. The morning was pretty much spent crying our collective eyes out (the youth choir sold small packages of kleenix as a fundraiser, and made a mint!) while the afternoon was a time to laugh and smile . . . and I am so glad that the day offered both ends of the emotional gamut, both to all of us and also to Pastor Jeff. Had this day been tipped entirely one direction or the other, we would have been poorer for it. Instead, it’s as though we were given the chance to feel absolutely everything we needed to feel, and in the deepest sort of way.

Church was packed today - especially first service - and both services lasted one hour and forty minutes, which even for Holy Communion (famous for its lengthy services) may be a record-breaker. But not a single person I talked to seemed to mind in the least. . . and at least for me, the time absolutely flew by. And we had all hands on deck . . . the senior choir, youth choir, sunday school choir, bell choir, and Caritas. . . to make it a musical smorgasbord worthy of such an important occasion.

And what felt especially miraculous was how many moments were so perfectly fitting. For instance, Kate Barrow asked if Caritas couldn’t please sing a favorite song of hers (and mine) called “This Day” - which has exquisite lyrics about making sure that we make the most of each day’s opportunities to love each other. The words of the last verse are: This day is frail ... It will pass by ... So before it’s too late to recapture the time, let us share love.... let us share God ... before this day is gone. We sang through it Saturday afternoon at our house and by the end we were hopelessly blubbering, prompting Kathy to insist that we sing it from the back balcony, since singing it in front of a grief-stricken congregation would be absolutely impossible. But logistically, that meant that we had to sing the song immediately after Jeff’s sermon... and it turns out that he preached on I Corinthians 13. So as we sang that song, there was this amazing sense that it was absolutely meant to be... the perfect song for that particular moment. (And no tears shed by us, at least until we were done with the song.)

One moment that I expected would be really tough was when I sang a song of mine called “Caleb’s Song” (you can hear it on my Listen page) that really hits me in the emotional solar plexus, even on a normal day- let alone on an occasion like this one. The words are sung by someone looking back on their life and wondering if they have lived faithfully (“Did I make a difference- Did I share some light- Did I bring some comfort in somebody’s night? Did I plant some flowers? Did I sow some seeds? Did I help a stranger? Did I see another’s need?” etc.) As I began playing the introduction and wondered if I was going to manage to get through the song emotionally intact, I suddenly noticed someone in my direct line of sight who was paying absolutely no attention to the song. . . whispering to their neighbor, snickering, etc. and just that little bit of Grrrr
kept my sadness at bay and allowed me to get through the song. (It’s not that you want to be emotion-less as you sing, but it’s no fun trying to sing a song with a lump the size of a basketball in your throat.) So to this inattentive person, I say - oddly enough - Thank You!

The biggest emotional wallop of the morning came with the musical surprise I blogged about on the 28th - and now I can say without hesitation that the song in question was James Taylor’s “Shower the People you love with love.” And this is how we did it: Towards the end of first service, we did the customary Passing of the Peace, which of course today was an especially moving moment. As Jeff made his way down the center aisle towards the back of the church, sharing the peace with as many people as he could, the members of the senior choir, youth choir, and sunday school choir quietly made their way to the front of the church and positioned themselves on the stairs of the chancel - and just off to the side was Tom Hagemann, with his guitar. . . and as he began to play the introduction to the song, it scarcely took Jeff two chords to recognize what he was playing - and I wish you could have seen the transcendent look of delight and amazement on his face and he took a seat in the second pew. And when the kids and adults joined Tom on the refrain Shower the People you love with love . . . Show them the way that you feel . . . Things are going to work out fine if you only will . . . Jeff started crying like I’ve never seen him cry before. (And I have seen him cry plenty of times, but not like this.) I’m sure it was a combination of it being a complete surprise coupled with the uniquely moving beauty of children’s voices singing such powerful and meaningful words - words which the world so desperately needs to hear and embrace.

There was plenty more music than that... including the senior choir’s two anthems (Cantad al Senor sung in Spanish- because Jeff is fluent in the language- and John Rutter’s lovely Clare Benediction) and three wonderful pieces played by our bell choir. And Caritas sang Garth Brooks‘ “The River” and evoked plenty of smiles all around. But what I especially want to mention is today’s closing hymn, “God be with you till we meet again.”

This is the third time in my life that this song has been sung in a moment of bittersweet farewell. The first was back in 1984 on my last Sunday at the church in Lincoln, Nebraska where I was organist during grad school and which had become a tremendously important community of faith and home away from home for me. I scarcely knew the hymn at the time, but in an instant became one of my favorites. Many years later - the spring of 2008 to be specific - Weston Noble was finishing up his year as guest director of the Carthage Choir. I was anxious that there be some sort of moment during the commencement exercises (Mr. Noble was to receive an honorary doctorate) when the choir could surprise him with some sort of special musical gesture. And what I came up with was this same hymn- God be with you till we meet again - which I rehearsed with the choir in secret - and which they sang for Mr. Noble SO expressively and lovingly. And now for a third time this hymn has helped me say farewell with the comforting promise that those we love remain an important part of our lives.

pictured above: Tom Hagemann singing “Shower the People you Love with Love” backed up with the senior, youth and sunday school choirs. I wish you could have seen it - and heard it.