Awake Dreaming

This is where I will jot down memories of my life and career.My first memories of a child are of constant travel. If the outside seemed dark and overcast, with humidity unbearable, and little sun….. we were in New York. If the air smelled of jasmine and the streets literally sparkled….we were in Los Angeles. Trips were chaotic and sudden. But as a family it made us very closeknit. My sister and brother and I were all we knew. My Grandmother, the woman who taught me so many life lessons it would stagger my recall and embarrass me in my ungrateful behaviour as a child, was the one who taught me to read and write. Mom and she were quite amazing and I went to a school the very first time for sixth grade. My siblings and I tested three grades ahead but we stayed to our age, and tried to adjust.Didn’t quite fit in at all. I knew I would sing from an early age. I curtsied to the Principal and she looked horrifed. I never understood why. Perhaps she knew how I might be scrutinized by the eager to pass judgement children of my own age who didn’t quite know what to make of me! But the rest will be saved for the agony of a bio some day.I will fast forward to my first coming to New York.Carl Sandburg’s Chicago Poems: Powerful and I love it.I AM THE PEOPLE, THE MOBI AM the people–the mob–the crowd–the mass.Do you know that all the great work of the world isdone through me?I am the workingman, the inventor, the maker of theworld’s food and clothes.I am the audience that witnesses history. The Napoleonscome from me and the Lincolns. They die. Andthen I send forth more Napoleons and Lincolns.I am the seed ground. I am a prairie that will standfor much plowing. Terrible storms pass over me.I forget. The best of me is sucked out and wasted.I forget. Everything but Death comes to me andmakes me work and give up what I have. And Iforget.Sometimes I growl, shake myself and spatter a few reddrops for history to remember. Then–I forget.When I, the People, learn to remember, when I, thePeople, use the lessons of yesterday and no longerforget who robbed me last year, who played me fora fool–then there will be no speaker in all the worldsay the name: “The People,” with any fleck of asneer in his voice or any far-off smile of derision.The mob–the crowd–the mass–will arrive then.Wonderful Yiddish Proverbs:If the rich could hire other peopleto die for them, the poor could make awonderful living. Yiddish ProverbThe wise man, even when he holds his tongue, says more than thefool when he speaks. Yiddish ProverbWhat you don’t see with your eyes, don’t invent with your mouth.Yiddish proverbA hero is someone who can keep his mouth shut when he is right. Yiddish ProverbOne old friend is better than two new ones.Yiddish ProverbOne of life’s greatest mysteries is how the boy who wasn’t goodenough to marry your daughter can be the father of thesmartest grandchild in the world. Jewish ProverbOld friends, like old wines, don’t lose their flavor. Jewish ProverbA wise man hears one word and understands two.Yiddish Proverb”Don’t be so humble - you are not that great.”Golda Meir (1898-197 to a visiting diplomatPessimism is a luxury that a Jew can never allow himself.Golda MeirAny intelligent fool can make things bigger and more complex. Ittakes a touch of genius - and a lot of courage to move in theopposite direction.Albert EinsteinLife is like riding a bicycle. To keep your balance you must keepmoving. Albert EinsteinWhen his wife asked him to change clothes to meet the GermanAmbassador, he said “If they want to see me, here I am. If they wantto see my clothes, open my closet and show them my suits.” AlbertEinsteinIntellectuals solve problems; geniuses prevent them.Albert EinsteinThe hardest thing in the world to understand is income tax.Albert EinsteinYou can’t control the wind, but you can adjust your sails.Yiddish proverbI don’t want to become immortal through my work. I want to becomeimmortal through not dyingWoody Allen  I’m not afraid of dying - I just don’t want to be there when ithappens!Woody AllenImagination is more important than knowledge.  Sign hanging in Einstein’s office at Princeton.  Not everything that counts can be counted, and not everything that can be counted counts ~Albert Einstein~We can’t solve problems by using the same kind of thinking we used when we created them~    Albert Einstein~  Education is what remains after one has forgotten everything he learned in school~ Albert Einstein~Two things are infinite: the universe and human stupidity; and I’m not sure about the universe.~Albert Einstein  

          

Arriving in New York…..November 21, 1981 for the first day at the Met Nov.22.1981 in the freezing snow. Raging fever, no place to live. I hunkered down at the Empire Hotel across from the Metropolitan Opera.

Absolutely my blonde ideal…..and giving total sense to the name of this section….awake dreaming….. If the David in Firenze came to life. Yes, yes, I know, Sex and the City guy. I am searching now for the dark haired ideal……

or this that was sent to me by a fan  on Myspace. The eyes. To start with ….. 

 
First day at the Metropolitan Opera November 22, 1981.  So thrilled yet, I wanted a more old fashioned building.  Said hello all around.  There had been a lot of talk about my coming.  How special I was.  And I was hysterically sick.  Did NOT take well to coachings with MANY people.  Smorgasbord.  I was confused and unhappy, and very defensive. Argued with everyone.  Trying to do special and personal things with the music was picked to pieces.  One person said, “You can’t do that.  You have to be a star to do that…..”  and I interrupted fiercely, ” and I never will become one if I don’t!” to which I was shown the door!  ”She’s difficult!!!” wasn’t even whispered it was shouted in my face. Rough everywhere.  

Thank God for Larry in those early days, and for Alberta Maisello.  She had just left a year or so, but sent me a fabulous note.  ”Be strong. You have the message, soon everyone will know.”     Ah yes, she and Jeanine Reiss were the only two people that got me early on.  Thank God for them.  And Larry.  All alone in New York, my momma flew immediately hearing the bruising I was taking.  

We began the New Year’s 1982, me hoarse, no voice, momma defiant, a great bottle of DOM and a brand new gift my mom gave to me, a portrait of Callas as Tosca.  As the snow fell, the glasses raised, one after the other, and our spirits soared and we gave thanks for everything.  Across the street from the Met but feeling further away than that.  And wanting to be.  Mom knew better.  ”Stay calm.  Larry is very smart.  Trust. You have something that will scare a lot of neophytes in opera who know nothing.  They want to control something they have no idea about. When Levine sees what he has in you, all this will change.  I trust in your talent and HIS.  He will know.  Until then, keep your head up, give no ground and and wait for him to see.”  She was right. She always was.