Blow Out the Candles, Zelda, and Make a Wish (One Year In)

Today is my birthday. One year ago today I had my last social gathering without masks: two friends came over to my apartment for Chinese food and board games. 

Four days before my birthday I had seen my last live theater, the inadvertent closing performance of The Inheritance (Broadway was to shut down completely the next day, March 12th, which marked for me the moment New York began taking this seriously).

Four days after my birthday my office shifted from skeleton crew to full remote and I had my first COVID symptoms (neither of my friends got sick). I recovered. Many did not. New York became a haunted city and I was shut up in my apartment for the transition.

An Independent Scholar (or, what else did I do this year?)

In May of last year, I wrote with pride about the publication of my first academic article, in collaboration with my dad, Professor Raymond Knapp. I say first because ... there are now several such collaborations. This has been such a rewarding and joyous process (if occasionally plagued with deadline-induced anxiety).

In the year 2019, I presented at two conferences, Music and the Moving Image (joint paper with Prof. Knapp) and Song, Stage and Screen XIV (my first solo paper), which, while brand-new experiences, were not as nerve-jangling as I'd predicted. Acting aside, I used to be so uncomfortable with public speaking that I would visibly shake with the adrenaline. But both papers went well, even with the oh-so-convenient laryngitis that hit the day before MaMI, and I may say the dreaded post-paper Q&As were manageable. In fact, our MaMI paper will soon be published in MaMI's eponymous journal.

In addition to that, two further collaborations were published this year, one in the Journal of Interdisciplinary Voice Studies, and the other in The Routledge Companion to the Contemporary Musical. So academically speaking, it's been a pretty good year.

Things I Learned:

• How to make a PowerPoint
• That I'm allowed to be silly when I make a PowerPoint
• When one has no university affiliation at a conference, one is an Independent Scholar
• This has more dignity than calling oneself a civilian and running away
• Collaboration includes remembering to share your toys and not hoard all the best bits for yourself. Sorry, dad. I'll share better next time.
• Q&A doesn't have to be about others tearing you down. It can also be a moment to expand, explore, and exchange ideas. I'd apologize for that phrasing, but ... naw.
• There's a whole field of nerds out there like me who like analyzing musical theater and I'm friends with a bunch of them now.

What I've presented/had published this year:

• "Musicals and the envoicing of mental illness and madness: From Lady in the Dark to Man of La Mancha (and beyond)," published in Journal of Interdisciplinary Voice Studies, Vol 4 No 2. Co-written with Raymond Knapp.
• "Falsettos and Indecent in the Shadow of Fiddler on the Roof: Reconsidering Jewish Identity on Broadway in the New Millennium," published in The Routledge Companion to the Contemporary Musical. Co-written with Raymond Knapp.
• "Crazy Ex-Girlfriend and the Trajectories of Mental Illness in Musicals," presented at the 2019 Music and the Moving Image conference at NYU, Steinhardt School. Co-written and co-presented with Raymond Knapp, and soon appearing in the Music and the Moving Image journal.
• "Taking Center Stage: The Theft and Reclamation of the Female Narrative," presented at the Song, Stage and Screen XIV: (Re-)Inventions conference at the University of Leeds.

(to read any of these, please reach out to me)

Another Goodbye

Every year at Christmas, Grandma and Grandpa visited. They drove out to LA in their RV, bearing cookies and gifts. Chocolate Refrigerator Cookies, Sugar Cookies, Shortbread, Melt-a-Weighs. And a big tin of flavored popcorn for everyone, and a fresh deck of pinochle cards for each kid, and some kind of polished stone from their winter home in Quartzsite, Arizona. An ornament, usually handmade, sometimes by Grandpa himself. Grandpa had a video camera and documented the unwrapping of presents. Grandma, in the evening, sat at Daddy's upright piano and played carols, singing along, inviting the rest of us to join in as we pleased. As she got older, Daddy played more of the carols, but Grandma always sat near the piano as he did, and sang along with him.

After Christmas, we'd all pile into the car and follow them back to Quartzsite, where we'd spend a day or two wandering the swap meets, enjoying all the Christmas lights and decorations in the RV camp full of other retired grandparents enjoying a warmish winter.

Okay, Kiddo

Yesterday Saba, my grandfather, passed away. He went quietly after a long illness. His children and wife were with him.

I am sad.

All day, that's really all I've been able to say. I am sad. Three small words, a simple sentiment, not truly describing, but hinting at the shape of it. I am sad. Saba is gone now and I am sad.

I am sad.

friendBrian, though, replied in perhaps the best way imaginable:

"I'm sorry. Tell me some of the awesome stuff he did."

And I started to list them. And I'm still sad. But Saba was a truly wonderful person. Here is some of the awesome stuff he did.

Perfect Memories: Pachebel in London

I was a teenager, which meant my skills at preserving or treasuring moments were getting better, but still not fully developed. It was warm, but not too warm, in that way that London summers are so much better than Virginia summers. Warm, but not drowning air. We'd been walking around all day, museums and blue plaques and such. Used bookstores. An ice cream cone with flake. The sun was at mid-afternoon slant and not too obtrusive. Mom and I had wended our way through Covent Garden - stopping at Lush for Mom, at Pollock's Toy Shop for me - and we were strolling the second level, when we heard the strings start. We leaned over the railing and looked down into the courtyard below. There were little cafe tables set here and there, each occupied. And there, just under the bridge of the second level, was a string quartet, playing Pachebel's Canon in D. I don' think I knew the name of the piece at the time. Without a word or look of decision, we stayed there, pressed against the metal rail, watching from above, as the melody repeated and repeated, growing in complication, caressed by the quartet. When they finished, we stepped back and continued walking.

Next week in Jerusalem

When I was a wee young thing (by which I mean, I can't quite remember what year it was), my Mom took my siblings and me to Israel for three weeks to visit ... basically her entire family: her parents, her grandmother Nana, her brother Jonny and his children and his wife's parents, her aunt Millie and uncle Elliot and all his descendants, etc. 

On the flight over, I remember being astonished at how waaaaaaay ritzier this flight was than my usual fare (yes, even at that age I considered myself a world-weary traveler and connoisseur of the flying experience). On El Al, we had rows four seats across so the whole family could sit together. We had individual movie screens (this was back in the day when not every airline in the world had this) with so many movie choices (I watched Mrs. Doubtfire and Beethoven's 2nd over and over. What? I was like eight)! Perhaps most importantly, they gave out freaking TOYS to the kids!!!! I got a supercool travel magnetic version of this marble puzzle. Also, I remember the flight was superduper crazyface long.

Climb Too High

One of my favorite stories about my brother is one I actually don't remember at all, though I was sort of present at the time.

Dashiell was around two and safely ensconced in his room, probably for the intended purpose of a nap (hah!). He was still a crib-sleeper at the time, and his crib was near a bookcase. We did not yet know this was a Bad Idea.

My mom, who was out in the living room, heard his little voice crying out "Mommy down! Mommy down!" She assumed he wanted out of his crib and went to retrieve him.

I think you can figure out where this story is going.