Indelible Marks
So we must say goodbye to Pavarotti. It hurts. I wish I was in Modena, Italy to stand among the thousands outside the cathedral this morning. His face was remarkable - such fire and intensity when singing those aerial passages, as though the whole universe was depending on him. Then his eyes would soften and his smile would envelope an entire soccer stadium, as if Love itself was singing and smiling.
Two years ago, my wife Dodee and I were able to see and hear him in Dallas. I will always be grateful to friends Jamie and Danna for getting us tickets. There was Pavarotti. We were there, as I see it now, to verify the fact of him. His voice was an effortless miracle, even if his high notes had become less available. And something about his generosity of spirit was no less miraculous. Yes, I know he had critics and was even banned from the Lyric Opera House in Chicago for cancelling too many appearances. So be it. But on a summer night in Dallas, we felt what the world has felt - that he was singing FOR us. I mean Pavarotti was singing OUR hearts out. His voice seemed to carry the joy and the longing of the whole world.
Last night Dodee and I drove home from the Austin airport to the sound of a recent Pavarotti CD, inexplicable tears streaming from our faces. It’s odd how hard it is right now to say goodbye to a friend I never knew. But I feel profoundly grateful too.
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Ah, the crazy news - Turns out we have to say goodbye to Madelien L’Engle too. The writer of the classic, A Wrinkle in Time, and many compelling books on faith and art has died this week, too. I have long admired her and appreciated her articulate sense of the interconnection of the creative life with the spiritual one. She seemed to appreciate, even in her eighties, the high art of being a child. Adieu - and with heartfelt thanks.
September 24th, 2007 at 5:58 pm
I will never forget junior high at the difficult age of fifteen around `87. I had just gotten one of your tapes and listened to it over and over while reading A Wrinkle In Time. 41 Lawnmowers became embedded in my psyche as I was reading about the children walking along the street where all the houses were the same. She was — and is — one of my favorite authors. Even though I never met her or you, I still feel a connection. In fact, even now when I listen to your albums I remember that book, and when occasionally I reread the book, I have to have the music on. I know they weren’t really meant to go together (!) but they seemed appropriate together to my young mind.
She was loved.
September 24th, 2007 at 11:23 pm
There is this sound I’d like you to listen to, which I feel has the same special quality you describe in Pavarotti. I had the priviledge of listening to this musician way back in high school, and since then, simply, everything changed. How this sound stopped me and took me elsewhere is not easily explained. Simply, what I heard then, left me frozen, and in awe, with both childlike feelings of joy, as I could sense angels roaming and intertwining with the notes, and a sense of despondency, fear and utter pain, as I felt that life would never be the same. The meetings with Him can be both, as you very well know. So, I offer you this music. Honestly, I don’t know if through this CD this quality, as I describe it, comes to reality. I don’t think the recording does her justice, perhaps the material… but you can appreciate her colatura highs in the background vocals and always number 2 will be my favorite…My friend passed away in 1987, so this is a remake in CD form. Just click on cdbaby.com and write Yolanda Vadiz…(if you’re interested, of course). I hope you enjoy. As for the institutions…dito… you might want to check out Stephen Manley and his ministry…