I love music and always have. I took years of piano and voice lessons, sing in a choir, and work for a music school.
Due to some recent hearing loss on one side, I’ve been fearing this very thing. What if I couldn’t hear music anymore?
And also, somewhat relatedly, how in the heck did Beethoven compose his 9th Symphony, Missa Solemnis, and other major works after he went deaf??
It would be terrible to go deaf and no longer hear music. But if I had to make a Sophie’s Choice between my vision and my hearing, I’d choose my vision. I think I’ve internalized enough music at this point in my life that I’d still be able to hear it in my head—like Beethoven…just not as well. Obviously.
Thanksgiving, Christmas, and Easter are the only holidays we reliably celebrate together as a family. Thanksgiving is food. Easter is church and food. Christmas is church, food, presents, and MUSIC.
Christmas music is special and I’ve always enjoyed it. When I was a kid, I liked learning carols on the piano and singing along. We actually went door-to-door Christmas caroling in my neighborhood a few times. I also liked the kitschy Christmas albums that pop stars would drop, especially the Carpenters’ Christmas Portrait.
In high school, our annual holiday concert was a beloved tradition. The highlight was the Hallelujah Chorus from Handel’s Messiah. Alumni were invited up on stage to sing it with the students. The Music Director, Mr. Phinney, was known to leave the podium and walk around behind the tenors to help them out on their big string of high notes.
I’ve performed Christmas music with many church, school, and community choirs over the years. In my current Unitarian Universalist (UU) church, we do a candlelight service on Christmas Eve. It concludes with everyone singing “Silent Night” in the darkened church as a real flame is passed from person to person. On the last verse, the piano drops out, many sing harmony, and everyone holds their lit candle high for the final “sleep in heavenly peace.” It’s a beautiful moment.
Me singing Christmas music with my high school Double Sextette, 1980sVery old sheet music that I still keep handy in my piano bench
A brief interview with my husband (age 61) about the death of Jimmy Buffett at 76.
Question: You’ve awoken to the news that Jimmy Buffett has died at 76. How did it make you feel?
Answer: Surprised
Question: What were your overall feelings about Buffett?
Answer: Not a huge fan, but he was kind of a cultural icon
Question: What made him a cultural icon?
Answer: Parrot Heads [his fans], concerts, and songs that everyone knew
Question: Would you say that he was a uniquely American artist?
Answer: Yes
Question: You’ve now read his obituary in the NYT, what was the biggest surprise?
Answer: That he had a Broadway show. Also, I knew he was rich, but I didn’t know he was that rich. [Buffett’s net worth is estimated to be one billion dollars]
Question: Did you ever know any Parrot Heads?
Answer: Yes, a couple from our old neighborhood – I think they were Parrot Heads. The people that lived nextdoor to Pat. Hawaiian shirts, frozen blender drinks, heading down to Gillette [concert stadium]
Question: What do you think his legacy will be?
Answer: I think it will fade away with his fans (people our age and older)
Growing up in the 70s in suburban America, my sister and I watched a lot of TV. Our parents were not strict about it. We could basically watch as much as we wanted, but we were not allowed to watch late into the night. We had fairly strict bedtimes.
As little kids, we watched Sesame Street and Mr. Rogers—two fantastic PBS productions. From the vowels and the days of the week to how to process grief over a deceased guinea pig, we learned so much from those programs and we were lucky to have them. As we got older, Zoom was another fantastic PBS production created in our own backyard (Boston’s WGBH) that encouraged us to write our own plays, experiment, and learn to speak Ubbi Dubbi. You could write to Zoom for instructions on how to do activities seen on the show or send in your own ideas. I will never forget Zoom’s mailing address: Box 350, Boston, Mass, Oh, Two, One, Three, Four. The zip code must be sung!
We also watched hundreds of episodes of The Brady Bunch and Gilligan’s Island, including many re-runs. Everyone in the neighborhood knew and talked about the important episodes, like when the Brady family went to Hawaii. Very exciting! We were not big Star Trek kids, but I remember certain episodes like the “Trouble with Tribbles.” The tribbles were so cute, like our guinea pigs.
For years, we could not miss an episode of Happy Days or Laverne & Shirley. They were both on Tuesday evenings. We loved those shows. My entire concept of the 1950s (my parents’ teenage era) comes from Happy Days. Laverne (played by Penny Marshall) immortalized the capital cursive L with those sweaters and made me want to get everything monogrammed.
It’s funny how I remember so few individual episodes of those shows, but can still sing virtually every theme song.
I’ll always remember a scene in one of the last episodes of Seinfeld where Jerry tells George to quit complaining. (Grumpy George is tired of waiting for his 15 minutes of fame.) Jerry says, “At least you have your health.” George responds, “Health’s not good enough. I want more than health. Health’s not doing it for me anymore. I’m sick of health.”
Back when it aired in the late 1990s, I was in my thirties. I remember laughing and thinking George had a point. I mean, it’s nice to be healthy and all, but is this all there is? Will I ever be rich? Or famous? Even for 15 minutes, like Andy Warhol had promised?
It’s funny how a couple of decades can change your attitude. Now, I’m never “sick of health.” I understand how fortunate I am to have it. With so many friends and acquaintances my own age hit with truly serious diagnoses, from that nasty bitch Cancer to crippling clinical depression, I (almost) never take my own health for granted.
Yeah, my knee hurts sometimes, but I can still take a long walk outside or ride my bike to the next town. I know I’m lucky.
Here’s to continued (or a return to) good health for all this Christmas.
Wassail (noun): an early English toast to someone’s health