It seems like every news source these days has a columnist or two. Most are haggling over political issues and the rest seem to be written by sports buffs. I’m neither politically nor athletically inclined, so the bulk of the commentary world is lost on me.
But the idea of writing a column seems fun, especially if I can write about something besides whether or not there really were WMDs or who’s headed to the Super Bowl.
I’m thinking column writing could also be therapeutic. The thing is, as a writer, I tend to talk in my head rather than out loud. I was quiet as a child, even quieter as a shy teen, and I can’t say I’ve ever been blessed with the gift of gab as an adult. So, all those unspoken thoughts can get cooped up with too many words bouncing around in such a confined space.
Therefore, I intend to use this column as a place to deposit the excess musings of my brain, if only for my own mental stability.
What am I likely to write about? Just about anything. But my favorite subjects will probably be along the lines of what’s going on in my life and things in which I am particularly interested. For instance, I’ve been sewing and doing arts and crafts since I was four-years-old, so you can bet I’ll have a story or two about my latest projects. As someone with a serious fabric habit and an incessant desire to create I always seem to have something in the works.
Other topics up for discussion could include my experiments in cooking, my pets, books I’ve read, movies I’ve watched and my adventures in belly dancing – an art I began studying just a few months ago. I’m a big fan of alternative health practices and natural remedies such as massage and herbal supplements, so I might share some tips in those departments, as well. I also love to travel.
My motto is the more places I can visit, the better.
My Friday night is a good place to start with this column series. Instead of staying home with my fuzzy slippers on, propped in front of the tube, my Significant Other and I headed to Southwestern College’s Messenger Hall to hear “Uns ist ein Kind geboren” (In English “A child has been born to us”), a Baroque Christmas Cantata performed by the SC Singers.
I was pretty jazzed about getting out of the house, but mildly interested in this college performance. I mean, you never really know if a concert is going to blow you away or bore you, but I had hope.
I’m happy to say I was very surprised at the quality of concert we were given and wow, can those kids sing. A choir performance and several solos unrelated to the cantata started the evening, including a sweet Italian love song.
The only words I could make out were “solamente amore”, which I guess means “only love”. The male soloist, Budi Taniwan, a bass, sang powerfully.
The night even came with a little mystery. It’s uncertain who, exactly, wrote the cantata featuring violins, oboes and a choir, according to conductor David Gardner. The 7-part piece was originally attributed to J.S. Bach, but later research shows it was probably Johann Kuhnau, Bach’s predecessor at the school where they both taught. This obscure piece is delightful and heartfelt.
The violins and oboes are uplifting, the lyrics soulful. I especially enjoyed the aria sung by contralto Katie Baltzer and the words were sweet: “For the lot that has fallen to me is the most delightful of all, you, you belong to me.”
And, I have to give the performers their props. The cantata was sung entirely in German.
The last surprise was the concert ending just 40 minutes after it started. I could have stayed for more.
What I didn’t like about the concert has nothing to do with the performers. I usually feel sorry for anyone on stage in Messenger Hall because the acoustics are dreadful. During the cantata I found myself straining to hear the soloists above the delightful, albeit overwhelming, chamber ensemble.
The effect gave the impression that the soloists lacked confidence, but I think you can chalk their slightly muffled voices up to the bad venue.
Also, it’s Christmastime. I’d love to see SWC spring for a couple of evergreen wreaths and decorated Christmas trees to spruce up the stage. The performers looked lovely in their tuxes and black gowns, but I grew tired of staring at the dingy white walls stacked on either side of them.
Well, that’s all for now. More details about my life and interests are sure to unfold in future columns. I hope you’ll join me in the coming weeks for a mostly light-hearted and introspective read to hear what, exactly, I’ve been thinking.
