.png;w=960)
The poster in the independent bookstore in Phoenix several years ago drew my attention. Carmen, touted as a highly regarded mezzo soprano was about to offer a brief solo performance on the second floor.
I had never been to an opera and had always wondered what, who and why they attracted the public.
We scurried upstairs where about 40 to 50 people were already seated. I noted at least four empty fold-out chairs in the front, close to the grand piano player who was about to accompany Carmen. The bride and I grabbed two and laughed at our good fortune of being just in time for a free tiny concert.
Carmen arrived from a little room behind the piano, strode forward, stood beside it and started to sing. It was an eruption of vocal strength that caught me totally unaware. The magnitude of that powerful voice made me jolt back in that chair since Carmen was fewer than three metres from my perch.
She smiled at my reaction but didn’t falter in her presentation. It was a moment to remember. It was a truly remarkable voice with big range and power.
Several years later a former Estevan guy, Chad Armstrong, now living in New York, was making his presence felt as a huge baritone voice on worldly opera stages. This time on his return to the Energy City, I was smart enough to choose a seat a bit further back, but once again marvelled at the control, range and power. Having an opportunity to interview him before and after the performance was icing on cake.
Now I knew why opera singers didn’t require microphones, how acoustics were important. I learned how they “survived” on and/or off stage during a three to four hour opera and how they cared for their voices.
In other words, I learned about how these professionals view their tasks, their callings with care and confidence.
Over the years I have relished my moments in the presence of true professionals in a variety of tasks.
I learned on ice and off, how professional and top junior hockey players exercise their chosen craft. It’s brutal, but also magnificent. My time on ice with a few top juniors during a warm-up session … before their actual practice began, was more than enough to convince me that when I stopped playing hockey at age 17, it was a wise decision. Skating speed, edge work, passing, checking, angles. It was all there. They could do it, I could only wish.
I played a round of golf with a club professional named Dan so I could write a column about it. The column turned out okay. My golf game? Maybe we’ll talk later eh?
Dan was patient and forgiving. We had some laughs when I decided to “play up” to the riverbank near the green on a Par 3, 170 yard hole! I wasn’t about to needlessly lose a golf ball, I was on a reporter’s salary and the publisher wasn’t about to cover my “travel and experience” costs. Save the golf ball, play up short of the water. Positional golf I called it. Easy decision when you’re on a budget. Dan didn’t quite get that. You see, he was gunning for a birdie … I was gunning for survival, or, if good fortune was to be had, a solid double bogey. I learned a lot about a golf professional’s take on a precision and power game as well as positions on the greens.
I joined a provincial champion 10-pin bowler while playing the reportage trade in southern Ontario too. We had a great conversation, but a challenging hour on the lanes. He told me all kinds of things I didn’t know about bowling, like delivery techniques and how one little wrist twist could make a difference. Both of us enjoyed the laughs.
I also got to box three rounds with a professional fighter who had just retired early after 16 straight wins. That too was during my Ontario tour of duty. In fact, John and I worked for the same newspaper company and I considered him a friend. I do recall him chuckling as he told me that I should keep my eyes open while getting hit in the face, “Otherwise, you won’t see the next punch coming.”
He was kind to me. He promised only to throw jabs for the third round as my gloves now felt like five-kilogram weights. I could hardly lift them up to that face that was getting classically battered.
We later retired and enjoyed some homemade Italian wine he had made with the help of his father and wife. I enjoyed the wine more than the left hooks.
I’ve sat in awe and delight listening to classical pianist Audrey Andrist and her violin-wielding husband James Stern provide everything from Vivaldi to show tunes in a cozy environment, wishing I could hear more with a grand piano involved and not an elderly upright. But you take hold of these precious moments when and where you can. Just enjoy the heights of the performance.
I have also marvelled at the proficiency displayed by those who probably don’t even consider their work as being filled with artistic bends.
I have viewed journeyperson carpenters work dovetails, nails, screwdrivers, slots and braces with aplomb and know that they just see it as doing their job. But it’s art, and I know it because I failed Grade 11 vocational classes in carpentry but learned enough to appreciate the talents of those who did know how to wield hammers and saws and finishing tools and could read blueprints. At least I only drew blood a couple of times.
Check out the fully certified fabricators, the welders, working magic on stainless steel or creating something that can’t be done just by using a cutting torch or grinder. They know what to do by instinct. Those of us on the ground floor, or basement in my case, will never know what’s going on up there on the fourth-floor tower of efficacy when it comes to music, dance, hockey, bowling, golf, boxing, carpentry or welding, but I, sure enough, can appreciate what these professionals do that makes it so much more enjoyable and much better for those of us in the cheering section who benefit from their expertise.
Need I mention the awe that should be expressed toward those who choose to be physicians, nurses or educators? They all possess wow factors as far as I’m concerned.
There are many more examples I could wring out here where I have had the privilege of meeting and dealing with true professionals, but I believe I’ve made my point.
It’s time for lunch and I’m just hoping I won’t burn the bun.
