Evening with a Star

January 26, 2010 was like just about every other day in Tampa, Florida. People went to work, paid bills, drove children to school. It was cooler than most days in this city—in January, that is to be expected. The sun rose, the sun set, as it did the day before, and would the day after. This night, however, was different.

After sunset, about a thousand of Tampa’s most distinguished, well-to-do, patrician people converged on Carol Morsani Hall at what is now known as The Straz Center for the Performing Arts. I was one of those thousand people. At 7:35PM EST or thereabouts, Anton Coppola, Francis’s uncle, took the podium and started conducting the Opera Tampa Orchestra in an intermezzo.

Some six minutes later, a disembodied, English-sounding voice introduced the “incomparable” American soprano Renee Fleming.

To my eyes, from a seat in the next-to-last row of the upper deck of the Hall, it may have seemed like Fleming resembled her own action figure. But once her voice was raised in euphoric song, both Fleming and the emotions that ensued within me were larger than life.

It seems to me that Renee Fleming is a star. Not in the celebrity sense, but in the actual, celestial sense. Rationally speaking, this effect was the combination of her lavender strapless gown, a spangling necklace, and the spotlight that I was sitting just under. But there’s more than that, as you may expect. I have meditated long and hard as to how I should describe or even encapsulate Renee Fleming’s talent. Only two words come close; celestial is one. Sublime is the other.

For us, Fleming performed Desdemona’s aria from Verdi’s Otello. This was at the end of the first act. So high and far did Fleming’s soprano voice soar that twelve minutes later, in the lobby, during the intermission, my knees were about ready to buckle. Later, as an encore, Fleming sang Puccini’s legendary O mio babbino caro, the first time I have ever seen or heard it performed live. It was one of several occasions where I had to catch my breath at the end of the piece. I’m listening to another recording of Fleming singing this piece right now; I’m still holding my breath in.

I think what I’m driving at is this: you’ve heard the line, I’m sure: “For those who do believe, no explanation is necessary. For those who do not, no explanation is possible.” I would brim with delight in the hours leading up to, and leading out of Renee Fleming’s recital that night. I am stunned even now at the beauty of her voice, her regal carriage, and her celestial appearance. It was like lying on your back while the brightest star in the sky twinkles at you on a clear night. But I would tell people in my office how awesome this was and be met with blank stares. It’s their loss—they can never know what it was like to be in that room on that night.

My only regret is this: After the recital, I tarried for about ten, perhaps fifteen minutes, in hopes of getting Fleming’s autograph. Climbing down the stairs, however, I noticed a reception for her was being set up in a room off the balcony. Only members of the Opera Tampa league were invited to participate. My shoulders slumped ever so slightly, and as I reluctantly left Carol Morsani Hall, I thought to myself, “I guess you don’t have to live like a star in order to shake the hand of one, but it helps.”

Author’s Note: Anton Coppola, who conducted the orchestra, also conducted the first opera I had ever attended live, Puccini’s Girl of the Golden West, on March 31, 2006, in the same venue. Last night, in addition the above pieces, he conducted the Intermezzo from Cavalieri Rusticana, one of the most divine pieces of classical music, never mind opera, ever written. I wish I had Maestro Coppola’s energy and talent when I’m 92 years old. Incidentially—this all took place on a Tuesday. It could be argued, most persuasively, that in order to see a real idol, I didn’t have to turn on Fox.

Advice for Medical Patients...

...here are the answers to the test:

1. B

2. D

3. A

4. C

5. D

6. A

7. Essay Question.(You're on your own!)

I just don't understand this world sometimes.

Any number of people in the city of Miami cannot pay down their credit card debt, and yet in less than a month now, the Super Bowl will be staged there, and those poor saps, instead of being there live, instead shall have to watch it on teevee with most of the rest of us.

America finds itself in a recession, and yet football stadiums are built that by themselves could cover Texas.

There is ten percent unemployment in this nation, the same one where lazy executives play golf and drink Old Granddad while making handshake deals to divide America even more among themselves.

I'll bet you that right now, driving down Fifth Avenue, some poor guy is freezing to death while somebody wheels past in a Maybach and turns up his nose.

God alone knows how many people are buried under the ruins of their homes in Haiti, while back in Tampa, people argue over which cruise liner has the most children's activities, someone on WNYC is giving home repair tips, etc.

I guess what I'm saying is this: I don't know why there is evil in this world--there shouldn't be. I don't know why bad things happen to good people--they needn't. If everyone lived in their bliss, followed their hearts and intuitions and nurtured their spirits...

It's like Resurrection. One character tells another, "If only we loved one another like we say we love God, there wouldn't be this much bother in the world."