As we have just finished celebrating the birthday of Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., and since Black History Month is right around the corner, here is a quote I shared with my Unitarian Universalist siblings at our recent UU MLK Choir Festival held at Pasadena’s Neighborhood Church. It’s a passage from Between the World and Me by Ta-Nehisi Coates:
“In other words, I was part of a world. And looking out, I had friends who too were part of other worlds – the world of Jews or New Yorkers, the world of Southerners or gay men, of immigrants, of Californians, of Native Americans, or a combination of any of these, worlds stitched into worlds like tapestry. And though I knew I could never, myself, be a native of any of these worlds, I knew that nothing so essentialist as race stood between us. I had read too much by then. And my eyes – my beautiful, precious eyes – were were growing stronger each day. And I saw that what divided me from the world was not anything intrinsic to us but the actual injury done by people intent on naming us, intent on believing that what they have named us matters more than anything we could ever actually do. In America, the injury is not in being born with darker skin, with fuller lips, with a broader nose, but in everything that happens after.”
I learned about a new way to celebrate the start of the year: in addition to being New Year’s Day and the last day of Kwanzaa, January 1st is also known as Z Day! This annual opportunity to celebration all things and people usually relegated to the end of any alphabetical list makes total sense at the start of each year, making the last first for a little while, and celebrating a letter most people probably don’t even use very often. In fact, we use this letter so much less often than others that looking at a page with a lot of Zs on it (try this one) can make you question if you’ve been writing them correctly — they start to look loopy after awhile!
Here are a few artists and influencers I’d like to celebrate today.
Zelda
I can’t believe The Rev. Zelda Kennedy passed away from cancer almost a year ago. She’s the first person that comes to mind when I think about people I love whose names start with Z. She was so soulful and full of life. Her voice was so warm and low and comforting. Not a day goes by that I don’t smile at her picture on the wall in my home: she’s in our wedding pictures, because she officiated our wedding. It was such a blessing to know her while I was at All Saints Church in Pasadena. And I miss her deeply.
Even as a little kid, I always thought “Zappa” was such a fun name! The iconoclast was one of the most powerful creative forces, across musical and cultures genres, through the 1970s and 80s. If you think he’s not a classical composer, click the link above and check his output. I would have sung his 200 Motels with LA Master Chorale and the LA Phil back in fall 2013 if I hadn’t a conflict – I hear that gig was a lot of fun and “memorable” for various reasons; it’s definitely not rated PG! But the man had skills, and a mind like no other.
This African-American and Creek Indian composer and pianist lived a fascinating and inspiring life, determinedly pursuing her music in spite of hurdles and lack of support at home. She was completely committed to her life in music, and while she moved and planned and worked to get the training and opportunities she craved, her music shows a strong connection to her hometown and the people she loved. She reached for the moon but kept her feet on the ground, and her career challenges how we define success as a composer and more. Click here to learn more about her
Few people have done more to refine and advance methods of musical education, first in his native Hungary, and then writing books that have changed programs around the world. Kodály’s work as a composer and ethnomusicologist are just as impressive. He wrote music for orchestra, choir, two operas, and some lovely chamber music, all influenced by the folk music he studied so carefully. Check this out if you’re not sure where to start.
I want to write about how thankful I am for all the blessings in my life this year; for my family; for my my work at Harvard Westlake and at Neighborhood Church Pasadena; for Tonality, Street Symphony, NANM; for LAMC and the LA Phil; for studio gigs and creative projects; for doctors and physical therapy; for psychologists, behavior specialists and teachers; for coaches and mentors and besties and colleagues, for sports and beer and video games and trampolines and an abundance of food and music…
But honestly, I’ve been going through some stuff. I’ll be okay, but I’ve been overwhelmed lately. I’ve been worried. I’ve been in pain. And sometimes it’s hard to be generous when we’re in pain or in need. We hoard our time, our money, our food, our space. Or sometimes we act carelessly and with ingratitude when we give and give and give at the expense of taking care of our own complex needs. We give away our time and money when we most need it to tend our own homes and souls. We fill up time instead of taking time. We fill up space instead of making space or holding space. Pain, grief, and need take us off balance. And I have been feeling this.
But I AM grateful. And I pray I am kind and loving despite my pain. I hope I remember to look beyond my own circumstance to see (and help meet) the needs of others. I hope I say “you’re welcome” as often as I say “thank you.” And I pray I have the courage, the strength, and the presence of mind to take folks up on their offers of generosity so I can hear the words “you’re welcome” and know the depth of their meaning.
We need balance. And it takes both courage and community to be both grateful and generous.
And it’s complicated, so let’s give ourselves a break. Happy Thanksgiving.
Ben Bollinger, aka “Mr. B”, died on October 17. He founded the Citrus Singers and was chair of the Citrus College Music Department for decades. He also created the Candlelight Pavilion Dinner Theatre in Claremont, and helped numerous aspiring musical theater singers to realize their dreams.
I was a Citrus Singer for one year, and one year only: 1997-98. I had graduated from LACHSA, not knowing what do to with myself. My college auditions hadn’t been very successful. I had been accepted to Berklee College of Music in Boston, but decided not to go, wary of the cost and afraid to leave home. I didn’t know if I should study jazz or classical music. I had dabbled at composition – maybe I was a singer-songwriter or a film composer. I certainly hadn’t given any thought to pursuing conducting or teaching. I was pretty lost. I figured I’d stay home for a year, take care of some GEs, get a part-time job, then transfer to a conservatory or 4-year school or something.
When I first went to Citrus College and met Mr. B, I wasn’t impressed by him, and he wasn’t impressed by me. I think we were both kinda arrogant. I didn’t really know anything about the Citrus Singers. And while others might have been impressed, he didn’t really care that I came from LACHSA. There were tons of other students auditioning for Citrus Singers who were extremely excited — and extremely competitive. Mr. B said that first-years rarely make it into the top group.
Then I nailed the audition. I think I was 1 of 2 first-years to make it that year. I believe Mr. B was satisfied with me. And my eyes were opened to musical worlds I hadn’t even imagined. From then on, he was always kind to me. I looked up to him.
Manny Mota
At the beginning of the school year, Mr. B arranged for me to receive a scholarship from the Manny Mota Foundation so I could go on tour to Europe for free with the Citrus Singers. I had no idea who Manny Mota was. I couldn’t even believe traveling to Europe to sing was actually a possibility for me! I don’t know what kind of strings he had to pull; I don’t recall having to compete or fill out any paperwork. All I know is that Mr. B made it so that I never ever had to worry about money so long as I showed up and sang at every rehearsal and every performance.
Shoes just like these!
I bought my first tan T-strap character shoes, and had them rubbered and braced. I took my first dance classes: 2 hours, twice per week. I was extremely uncoordinated, and I don’t think I ever mastered a single dance combination. (God bless John Vaughanfor trying to teach me). For about 12 weeks, I had choir rehearsal with either Mr. B or Michael Skidgel every single day for 2-4 hours Monday through Thursday, and for 6-8 hours over Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. I learned my first works by Lauridsen, Vaughan Williams, Victoria, Kodály, Byrd, Dello Joio, Bruckner, Verdi, Gabrielli, Elgar, Rachmaninov…
We memorized EVERYTHING. And on top of the standard choral rep, we had to learn 2 hours worth of music for our “pop casuals.” I learned how to wrap microphone cords. I had my first ever costume fittings and learned how to wear fake eye lashes and makeup. I performed in dance tights and short dresses made of silver and blue sequins. I had a tin container to hold the costume pearls and corsage that went with the taylored red satin ball gown and matching red velvet jacket I wore for a seemingly endless number of off-campus Christmas casuals and endless on-campus performances of “Christmas Is” at the Haugh. I learned how to play handbells… and LOVED IT! I went to my first Country Club, and I think we sang at almost every country club in Southern California. These ultra-formal affairs helped pay for the group’s trip to Europe. And I gave starting pitches for every a cappella song we sang, in every performance. Yes, I was the “pitch bitch”. All of this was grueling, but it made me a stronger person. Now that I think about it, the pace was very similar to that which I endured as a doctoral student at USC. Now, it’s fascinating to recall that Mr. B was a college football player and that he also studied choral music with the great Charles Hirt at USC.
Back then I didn’t know anything about USC football or choral music or anything! I didn’t really know what it meant to be part of a legacy. And I didn’t really know what hard work was until I became a Citrus Singer. I always thought it was weird how Mr. B would reference Joe Paterno and Penn State football when talking about choral music – he loved him some Joe Paterno! Maybe that’s why today I see so many parallels between football and choir – I love me some football! I think we were Mr. B’s football team, and he was an elite coach. But he was old school. Honestly, he wasn’t nice with us. He was aggressive, passionate, and an expert in his field. Practice was grueling but effective and even beautiful. Mr. B’s voice was incredible: a rich bass-baritone, if I remember correctly. He often used the word “facilitate” when explaining how to achieve a sound he needed from us, and to this day, I love that word. Making music with Mr. B was a humbling experience. He had such reverence for the composers whose music he tried to teach us. He absolutely loved this music, and he truly shared that love with all of his students.
I am thankful that he came into my life, pushing me to be more and do more than I thought I could be or do. And I am so grateful for the priceless experiences he gave me in my early years as a choral musician.
The first 4-6 weeks of the school/church year are notoriously stressful for our family, as I’m sure it is for most families. But it seems like the start to this year has been exceedingly stressful. Not gonna lie: it’s been really tough. And the sudden passing of my beloved composition teacher Dr. Carolyn Bremer from CSULB weighs on me still.
It’s complicated. Seems like everything is more complicated. Don’t get me wrong. Like I said last month, new settings have added an element of hope to things. Working at Neighborhood Church is a dream come true. My kids are moving forward in their new school settings. My husband survived his work as a singer for the Jewish High Holy Day services (my fellow singers and Jewish friends all know what that’s like!). I have much for which to be thankful. I know there are many in our city whose daily struggles are far worse than mine; whose basic needs for food, shelter, and clothing are not met.
So as we head into October, I’ll be reminding myself of some important truths. For me, these truths include:
1. I can’t take care of anyone if I’m not taking care of myself (everday needs: practice, pray, drink water, do a chore, read, exercise).
2. Being kind is key.
3. Cutting corners is unacceptable.
4. Grief can be a long process (I grieve for my country, my lost loved ones, my lost relationships, my failures).
I can’t believe The Rev. Zelda Kennedy passed away from cancer almost a year ago. She’s the first person that comes to mind when I think about people I love whose names start with Z. She was so soulful and full of life. Her voice was so warm and low and comforting. Not a day goes by that I don’t smile at her picture on the wall in my home: she’s in our wedding pictures, because she officiated our wedding. It was such a blessing to know her while I was at All Saints Church in Pasadena. And I miss her deeply.
Even as a little kid, I always thought “Zappa” was such a fun name! The iconoclast was one of the most powerful creative forces, across musical and cultures genres, through the 1970s and 80s. If you think he’s not a classical composer, click the link above and check his output. I would have sung his 200 Motels with LA Master Chorale and the LA Phil back in fall 2013 if I hadn’t a conflict – I hear that gig was a lot of fun and “memorable” for various reasons; it’s definitely not rated PG! But the man had skills, and a mind like no other.
(1908-2004)
(1882-1967)
