smile pretty

Hold doors for other people. Pay the toll for the person behind you. Pick a charity or two and donate both your time and money to it. Clean up after yourself. Tip generously for good service. And even if the service wasn't the best, still treat them with decency. You have no idea what is affecting them at that moment.

I don't know if it was my mom who taught me these things, or if I read them somewhere or if I just figured them out for myself. And, in my maxim in of questioning everything, I sometimes wonder why I do them all.

The cynical side of me thinks, "Hey, that guy's got two working arms, why can't he open the door for himself?" Or, "Why pay the toll? He should have had money if he was going to take this road." Or worse yet, "Am I helping to foster a society of welfare and entitlement by giving to charity?"

And yet I do it all because something inside tells me it's right to.

But is it all a façade? Is it a façade like every new house they build?

When I was at my first teaching job, it was at the end of a road, at the end of a subdivision built in the 80's. And then a farmer died and during my first year at the school, the road was extended and branched and houses flew up overnight. The walls, the paint, the windows, they were all ready to go in giant pieces. Some men who were handy with nail guns threw them up. and in two years you couldn't see any more empty land.

What struck me most about the houses, though, was the care with which the faces of the houses were constructed. Each one made to look slightly different. Different colored stones, bricks and mortars. Various styles or real wood plank siding, lovely divided light windows and the nicest trim you could find.

But on the sides and on the back, the windows were plain. The exterior was clad in cheap vertical masonite no thicker than a Hershey chocolate bar. The trim was plain and sometimes nonexistent.

I thought, "why would anyone buy a house that looked good on front but looked like every other house (cheaply built) on the other 3 sides?"

To my shock, the houses ALL sold. Most before they were even finished.

Last November when we were house hunting, I was all but adamant that we find a house that looked just as good on the sides and back as it did on the front. To me it was a sign of care and love put into a house.

All the houses we looked at, however, were just like the ones I'd watched get thrown up around the school. The builders didn't care about craftsmanship, they cared about money. And why spend money on something most folks will never see?

We ended up getting one of those houses with the Masonite sides. Beautiful front with nice stone work and wooden siding.

It's a lovely neighborhood. Sidewalks run by perfectly kept lawns, dutifully treated with the proper chemicals to keep out the unwanted natural growth and beds of flowers and bushes perfectly manicured and treated to the point of falsity.

People don't care for their yards, they treat them. They don't love their houses as homes, they love them as investments.

As I was walking last night after watching the story of Edward R. Murrow, I realized that this neighborhood and the millions of others exactly like it spread across the American suburban landscape were not the problem but only a symptom of the greater issues of gluttony and sloth that face our nation.

People don't care about what's under the surface. As long as there's gas in the SUV, the cell phone connection is good and there's escapist entertainment on the boob-tube, no one will ever wonder what's underneath it all.

I was particularly struck by the beginning of the movie I watched right after "Good Night and Good Luck." Though the rest of movie isn't worth mentioning, the idea of "King Kong" that stuck with me is that while people are being evicted from their homes, living in tin shacks in the park and going hungry, all they really wanted was escape. They didn't, or couldn't fix the problem, they just wanted entertainment.

I wonder what we will be like when we're evicted from the homes we don't really own? What will we look for when the cell phones go silent and the TV goes black? What feasts will we have when the bank accounts run dry and we can't put gas into our SUVs to get to the Super Walmart which I'm sure will still have fully stocked shelves?

The reason I still open doors, and pay the extra toll is because I have an idea of what's under the surface of all this. And all too easily it could go away. I'm not trying to provide entertainment or escapism, I'm providing care, compassion and love. Ideals the leaders of this nation are sorely in need of.

Who dis?

My friend from H.S., Jacquelyn, called the other day. It's been many months since we've spoken. One of the first casualties of my busy life is my friends. But my real friends keep coming back because they know that my humor and wit are worth waiting for.

That being said, Jacquelyn was really first to point out the humorlessness of my posts. And I had to, sadly, agree. I suppose it's the dichotomy that is Kevin that I've mentioned before. In person I'm the jovial, joking, witty type who gets uncomfortable in "serious" situations and always tries to lighten any mood with a joke. I am the original shit-starter in faculty meetings (which besides dull and drone end up taking a tone of seriousness that bespeaks the strains that teachers are under.) And online, my serious, often VERY serious side comes out.

My best audiences for my humor are typically educated non-pretentious folks. Therefore, my humor usually falls flat on the folks at the opera. Unless I'm making a snarky remark on the conducting style of the maestro (humor that falls squarely in sarcasm, a genre I don't have much respect for) or a paltry take on the sometimes squeaky soprano, they have NO interest in what I'm saying.

Teachers, however, I've found to be my best audience. They're typically educated folks who, often, but NOT always, have a humbleness on their shoulders. And especially the elementary folks who usually only wander as far as their "TIME for kids" to get their news. They're usually pretty simple folk. And they're NOT used to someone blurting out the unexpected at meetings.

And only three days out of school and every example I could give has escaped. I typically try to clean my brain of everything "school" faster than I ran from that tranny hooker back in college.

In any case, she's read the names of many folks on here and couldn't keep them all straight... or gay for that matter. So here's a short run-down of folks I might mention. If one of them is you and you'd rather I edit you out, just let me know.

Mom and Dad- self-explanatory. Mom might sometimes be referred to as Jeanette and dad as Bill.

Jim- My brother: the designated breeder of the family.

Denise- my lesbian sister: the keep of the neurotic dog sanctuary.

Dustin- my boyfriend/a sociopath

Jordan- His laid-back 14/yo daughter who lives with us.

Stevie- His princess 12/yo daughter who's living situation is up in the air.

Ted- my best friend (gay and only friend who lives close) who's not going to live close anymore come July.

Jill- my (straight) best-friend from college who was partly responsible for me moving to Kansas from Iowa. She's since moved to NM with her beau. I miss her terribly.

Vic- My best-friend (straight) from college I met in the corn fields of Iowa. (literally)

Jacquelyn- (straight, though I've encouraged her to try the lesbian route) One of only two friends I keep in touch with from H.S. if only to live vicariously through her fabulous life ranging from TX to NYC. (and she's damn funny)

Adam- we met as toddlers, went all through school together and was his best man. (the only wedding I've cried at)

Tricia 1- my fag-hag in HS, even though I didn't know it at the time. I refer to her as my whore-slut friend. My brother calls her butt-skanky-ho. We've actually been estranged for almost 10 years now.

Tricia 2- Dustin's white trash ex-wife.

Joe- (gay) One of the few folks from online that I've actually met recently and keep in regular contact with. A super good guy who I wish I could see more often.

SO. there's the folks I regularly talk to/about.

And, though depressing, it's true that besides Ted, I honestly have no friends here. I've thought about why for a long time. Some of you folks about there who live on an unseen/unspoken short leash might understand. But even when I was single, I didn't have many friends. I think I'm really just THAT picky on who I hang out with.

I don't typically get along with other music folks because they're, well, usually just odd. Either they're so wrapped up in themselves or they're so wrapped up in their world of music that they have no concept of a world outside that.

And on top of that, unless I feel an immediate connection, I usually don't pursue friendships. The folks I've tried to "make" friendships work with never panned out. The friendships I have are with folks with whom friendship came effortlessly.

Maybe I'm just lazy?

AHHHH, summer break.

unlike the others

If I had more discipline, I'd write more often. As is the case, like a late birthday card, the longer I go not writing, the harder it is to do.

The opera's done. One more school program to go next week.

I estimated that between the opera performances and the performances of my kids (I call my students my "kids') I've stood up before more than 3000 folks over the last 2 months. I've had enough compliments this last month to sustain my need to feel approval for at least the next month when I'll need to feel approved again and will volunteer at two consecutive camps. One for kids with cancer, one for underprivileged kiddos.
On top of all that, I applied for an and did not get a new teaching job closer to home (and more pay). I'm over it now. It's the first job in my life that I applied for and didn't get. That stung a bit. But it truly was not a good fit.

I've come to believe that I really do not teach like most of the general music teachers. I've found that they are either so gun-ho about one method, or one area of teaching that they completely shut out any other styles, or that they are so lazy,they just open up their teacher books and teach the next lesson.

I want kids to love music. I want them to go home and tell their parents about what they learned in music. I want them to know that it's ok to sing and it's ok to try new things in music. I want them to understand and appreciate the thousands of years of music history that came before the stuff we hear on the radio today and understand how we got to where we're at. I want them to know that no matter how bad you think you are at singing, you should still sing and sing with all your heart. I want them to learn that they cannot accomplish on their own what we can accomplish together.

And I'm not going to get all that by teaching out of the textbook. I'm not going to get that by being a hard-core Orff-method or Kodaly-method teacher. I get too bored to stick with one style anyway.
The other day, I had kids singing a song about everyday heroes. They were 6th graders. The group I usually have the hardest time with. But they sang so beautifully, I welled up. That NEVER happens. I'm not a weller-upper. It takes a whole-dang-lot to move me. When parents are gushing over a performance of my kids, or gushing over something they told them they did in music, I graciously take the compliments, but they don't move me.

I've said it before and I'll say it till the day I die: I do this job because I love it. I don't feel like I work. And I couldn't imagine living a life where I don't get to hear children sing.

I've realized this past couple months that I'm a passionate man. And not just about music. About a lot of things. I don't just like things, I get passionate about them. (some would call it OCD) And when I believe something, I REALLY believe it.

But one thing I used to believe in has recently shifted. A schema shift, if you will.

I've known for a long time that I'm more like my mom than my dad. My dad was absent when I was growing up. he cared more about his friends and his friends' kids than his own family. And it's not a bad thing that I ended up like my mom. She's is one of the most selfless, caring, nurturing and independent people I know.
But the other day, after an upset at home with Dustin's kids (suffice to say, Dustin and his ex-wife have a smile on the face, knife behind the back relationship) when his 12 y/o daughter decided she wanted to move back to her mom's place. (a house that's as white-trash as they come... and a husband who at least has all his tattoos spelled right but can't keep a job.)

I get along great with his 14 y/o daughter. She's laid back, does what she's asked without attitude and is an awesome clarinetist.

His 12 y/o wants to be a princess. She doesn't want to work. She has no passions in her life beyond watching T.V. and has more attitude than I've ever seen.

And the other day I caught myself thinking, "why can't you be like my students?"
And I stopped. dead in my tracks.

It was my dad coming through. I found myself wanting to be around my students more than her. And I about lost it. I couldn't believe that trait had been passed to me.

Mind you, I had, at one point, wanted kids of my own. If only because that what society had told me I need to do. And because I knew my mom would make an awesome grandma.

But after I came out, I realized that I didn't want kids. I didn't want to bring a child into an already burgeoning world. I found I fit in best taking care of the kids that were already here.

With Dustin, though, I was thrown into a situation where I had no choice. His kids were young, but not so young as I could have much influence over them. They had lived with their lazy ass mom for most of their lives and had recently moved in with their dad when I came along. And the last 4 years has been spent deprogramming everything their mom had done. Such as expecting that someone else will always take care of you. someone else will always give you money. You don't have to work a day in your life if you don't want to. It's ok to sit on your ass and let the world go by. Grades aren't that important. School's not that important. And lastly, your parents are your friends, not your parents.

All that shit had to go.

Augh. At least I recognized what had happened. A trait of my mom is to over analyze. And that's well engrained. So hopefully I can catch all those traits of my dad that need to be weeded out still.

I don't have contact with him. He doesn't try to contact me. And it works. I'll probably see him this weekend though. Going to St. Louis to see my sister's gay-band concert. He usually goes.

One of these days I'll learn the art of thrift. But till then, thanks for reading.

DIVA

By far and away the one thing that has taken up the majority of my time (and a bit of my sanity) has been this latest opera, "The Merry Widow" in Kansas City. Now, mind you, I'm just a chorus member. But staging took 3 weeks in the rehearsal hall. About a week per act. And then the final week was spent polishing the show on the stage.

And for some reason, I get the impression from folks who I talk with that they put the Lyric Opera of Kansas City on par with small town local theatre production. And bless those small town theatre houses (they're where I got my start), putting it mildly, they pale in comparison to what the Lyric Opera puts on.

I suppose that since it's not the Met in New York or the Lyric in Chicago, or some other huge city opera like Dallas, Huston, or L.A. that most folks would dismiss Kansas City as small town. And for the opera snobs out there who are used to the "A" house productions, they might rightly so.

Just like there are "A" list celebrities, there are "A" list opera companies (mentioned above.) And in fact, opera houses openly admit their status on this list. "A" houses are those with HUGE budgets and who can get in the biggest name singers. "B" houses have smaller budgets, but can pack a punch. "C" houses are much closer to the small town stuff you're thinking.

Kansas City is a B house with a $4 million budget, owns it's own theatre, (the fabulous 1927 Lyric Theatre in Kansas city) with a professional in-house chorus (yup, I get paid pretty well. It has to be worth my while to drive a hour), uses the KC symphony in the pit, is a union house (I have to pay those damn union dues to AGMA) and occasionally gets big names in.
The average principal singer at the Lyric gets around $6000 PER PERFORMANCE. So that means that the leading lady in this show is making around $30,000 for a months work. New York Met pays around $20,000 PER PERFORMANCE.

So there. Not small town opera.

Here's a couple pics from the production. You can see me in a white suit in the picture of the lady in the blue dress. I'm fuzzy, but I'm there. Behind her to her right.

And here's the review in the KC paper.