Where to go now June 29, 2014

Tomorrow it will be one year since my retirement, and coincidentally my birthday.  By now I was supposed to have developed a plan for a new “career”.  I haven’t. 

I realize, too, that I have failed to comment on this blog’s moniker, “The Passaggio”, and perhaps now, given the blog’s impending anniversary, is a good time to correct that oversight and reflect on its meaning.

In singing, the passaggio refers to a transition point between two different registers of the voice, a transition between the chest voice and the head voice, for example, in women.  One of the goals of classical singing is to smoothly transition between these two registers, to make the voice seamless as the singer navigates her way up or down the vocal scales and passages. 

I chose this metaphor for my year of adjustment after retiring from UCSF, with full intention of having a second career in view by year’s end.  Passaggio may have been the wrong metaphor since I’m actually struggling to find this other voice at the same time as I am struggling to transit to it.  It has been a rewarding struggle, but one still with no end in sight. 

"Jeu Nadal" June 12, 2014

And so it came to pass that I boarded a flight to Montreal then transferred to Paris to intersect with my friend Sue for the French Open.  I was hoping to witness the march of Rafa Nadal toward his ninth title at Roland Garros, and he did not disappoint.

Sue and I treated ourselves to two days of tennis – the ladies’ semis on Thursday, the men’s on Friday – preceded by lovely three-course luncheons at the site.  The courts at Roland Garros are clay, and the lush grounds are festooned in green, white, and orange to match.   The weather was perfect, and the international crowd we sat among in the second tier was enthusiastic.  At one point late in the second men's semi (Nadal v. Murray), "the wave" made its way around the entire stadium at least a half a dozen times, delaying Nadal's serve and causing consternation to the umpire, but history was in the making – yet again – and there was no taming this crowd.

I was not the only woman gaga over Nadal, although Sue – a Brit – was compelled to shout out “go Andy” for his Scottish opponent now and then.  Murray had no chance, as game after game the umpire decreed, “Jeu Nadal”.  “Jeu Nadal!” we echoed.  Just in front of me sat a petite and primly dressed elderly woman who quietly kept some kind of score during the match.  At the end she turned around, revealing herself to be Japanese, and indicated that she too was a Nadal fan.  She dipped into her handbag and withdrew a small silk satchel into which she had embroidered a photo of Nadal and gave it to me.  Clearly, I am not the only kook.

On singing June 1, 2014

It has been quite a whirlwind of music activity these past three weeks.  First was Marin Oratorio with three weeknights of rehearsals for the Brahms Requiem and Liebeslieder Walzes and then another week of intense rehearsals and two weekends of performances of Mozart’s Magic Flute with the West Bay Opera.  It was hard for me to embrace the latter while the former occupied my energy, but I soon got into the spirit of it, donning my burlap peasant costume, false eyelashes, and face glitter and enjoying the camaraderie of the group.  Today was the final performance and I was delighted that many friends came to see it and to support me. 

Indeed, it has been a remarkable year for singing.  I was able to relocate and start to work again with my coach Daniel, I practiced almost every day, I had a steep and exciting learning curve in music theory, I auditioned for half a dozen different groups, and found a happy home with two.   So much energy, so much discipline, so much “putting yourself out there.”

There is one final audition on the docket, the SF Symphony Chorus, on June 16^th.  I am terrified, of course.  I would love to sing with them but there are so few slots and I am so old.  This of course is the nub of the problem.  My voice is sturdy enough, but not what it once was, and as regards singing at least, I fear that my future is behind me.

The final crit May 20, 2014

Today was our final critique in 3D art, and the culminating project was entitled “Home, shelter, shrine”.  I chose to design disaster relief shelters, developing an earthquake camp in Kezar Stadium as my prototype.  I had a lot of fun thinking about how to package pre-fab units into shipping containers and constructing the models.  But I was simply blown away by the other students’ concepts; with only three exceptions, including mine, the projects all were powerful nods to members of their families.  Two designs were homes for their parents who could never realize their own dreams.  Several were shrines to mothers or grandparents, one was a reconstruction of the home he had grown up in in another land, and another was a statement about the homelessness she had experienced.  I held back tears with each presentation, powerfully moved by the love these young people had for their families and their heartfelt testimonies.  

Nearing the end, and grieving it May 15, 2014

Today was the last official day of classes at College of Marin, and my immersion in music theory and ear training with Trevor as well as my adventures in 2D and 3D art fundamentals with Katrina are coming to an end.  I have been lucky to have these two remarkable teachers for the duration of the academic year and have learned so much from them.  I’ve loved the rhythm of my Tuesdays and Thursdays at the Kentfield campus, with a little noon break singing in the chilly practice rooms.  I’ve enjoyed getting to know the other students, learning about their backgrounds, their aspirations.  I’ve looked forward to the drive every morning across the Golden Gate Bridge, the beauty of the Bay and the Marin Headlands as the fog dissipates, the little clump of redwoods on the campus. 

This year at College of Marin has given a structure to my first year of life as a “retiree” and has challenged me.  It was exactly what I was hoping for, in fact, even better.  I have come to realize that this has been one of the happiest years of my life.