Omelets and Opera

Sunday mornings were sacred growing up on 26 Bettswood Rd.  We were church going folks, but we always hit mass on Saturday night so that we could have our Sunday mornings.  Sunday after Sunday after Sunday as kids we would be awoken to the sound of opera.  Cranking.  On the stereo.  Loud.

We hated it as little kids, at least I did,  especially when we had the downstairs bedroom.  Bleary eyed, we'd head into the kitchen where Dad, towel draped over one shoulder, Sunday NYT puzzle in reach, would ask, "want an omelet?" 

My parents loved the opera.  They were season ticket holders to the Metropolitan Opera House in NYC, a rare extravagance for them.  And they got my Uncle Brian hooked, too, so for years and years Uncle Brian would drive down from Boston and the three of them would head into the city to see La boheme, Rigoletto, La traviata, you name it. In those days the translations were not projected above the stage so there was always some boning up on whatever libretto was in play.  My parents even signed up for a class in Italian at Norwalk Community College one year.  (I remember mom telling me she hated it, dad loved it.  She never did the homework and prayed she didn't get called on.  Of course Dad did the homework.)

So Sunday after Sunday we passively took in this music, usually with some protest, but eventually singing along at the top of our lungs in some approximation of whatever aria was being sung.  The grand march of Aida became a family favorite; a favorite high school memory was marching around the kitchen with pots and pans, clanging in time to the cymbals.  I had that piece performed at our wedding as we walked back down the aisle.  So, despite youthful protests, these operas became imbedded in our brains.  They are a part of me and the soundtrack to the Sundays of my childhood.

Operas and omelets.  It's a tradition that Doug and I have carried on and, I suspect, so have some of my sisters.  We swapped omelets for scrambled eggs and we dash out on Sunday mornings to go to church, but our Sunday morning soundtrack has always, always included opera, and then it was MY kids who would protest.

Until this weekend.

Corey sings in an a capella at Wash U but also in the chamber choir.  This past Sunday, the choirs, together with the Wash U symphony orchestra and two professional soloists, put on a concert.  The theme?  19th century opera favorites.  It.  was.  spectacular.  From the moment the first notes started, so did my tears.  Hearing these incredibly familiar arias, watching my kid up there singing them, I just couldn't stop.  Corey later said, 'it was so fun to watch you, mom, because I knew you'd be crying the whole time."  I thought constantly of my sisters, my mom and my dad.  I thought of the pride my dad would be bursting with if he was there, watching his beautiful granddaughter sing "Va, pensiero".  

Va, pensiero, do you know it?  I bet you do:  it's a very familiar piece of music.  Here's a snippet.  Can you spy Corey?

The program also contained its story, which is fantastic.

Verdi's opera Nabucco has seen many full performances since it first opened at La Scala over 150 years ago, but perhaps the most recognized number from the opera is the dramatic chorus "Va, pensiero".  Nabucco is set in a romanticized biblical past, where the Israelites await the advance of Nabucco, the kind of Babylon, and his army.  The Babylonians invade, and the displaced Israelites sing of their homeland and their longing for it with Va, pensiero.  "Va, pensiero" went on to represent much more than the opera scene from which it emerged.  At Verdi's funeral, the assembled crowd is reported to have sung "Va, pensiero" in honor of the composer,  likely because of the song's association with political upheaval in Italy.  Often under the control of various foreign powers, the Italian states in early 19th century were fragmented.  During midcentury, a nationalist movement called the Risorgimento eventually led to the unification of Italy in 1861.  "Va, pensiero" became a patriotic and nationalistic song after 1861, supposedly expressing a longing for a united Italy.

"Va, pensiero" continues to hold national symbolism.  Indeed, in 2011, following severe budget cuts to the arts in Italy, conductor Riccardo Muti was astonished when concertgoers at the Teatro dell'Opera in Rome shouted "Viva l'Italia!" immediately following this chorus, interrupting the opera.  Muti, hearing them behind him, stopped the opera to give an impromptu speech on the importance of the arts.  The audience rose to their feet and sang "Va, pensiero" together with the singers on stage. "It was a call for a united fatherland," Muti later remembered, "in Verdi's name. I thought I was dreaming...(it was) a moment of outstanding Italianess"

They continued on with hits from La boheme, Rigoletto, Die Fledermaus and, finally, Brindisi from La traviata.  As the director said, if you haven't heard Brindisi from traviata, you haven't lived. 

Judge for yourself.  I'm a fan.  Viva l'Italia, indeed.    What a special day.   

Sundays, Omelets and opera!  You can't go wrong.