“There’s a wolf a-howling on the tundra. He’s calling to his mate on the tundra. I hear him call; I see his paw. The wolf is howling on the tundra. (hooooooooooowl).”
Well, dear reader friends, another year in my most pleasant pastime as a retiree volunteer at the school where I was formerly employed as an elementary/junior high music specialist has crested the hill and disappeared into the waning sunset.
Chop suey. An edible concoction of “miscellaneous leftovers,” according to Wikipedia.
In the lovely opera “Amahl and the Night Visitors” by Gian Carlo Menotti, performed primarily at Christmas, is a tender scene where Amahl, a crippled shepherd lad with an extraordinarily vivid imagination, appears to be divinely healed. Upon taking his first step, he gazes upward at his mother and in awe-struck tones sings in hesitatingly sotto voce, “I walk... Mother! I walk... Mother!”
As I went into my second year of retirement this past July, I had decided to cease my yearlong newspaper column pontifications on the state of being newly retired.
Mishaps. They occur in everyone’s life. As a retiree I look back on my years as a music educator and recall musical mishaps, some of which I’d like to share with you.
I was working recently with a classroom at the school from which I retired last year. The teacher was having her students present the play “Anne of Green Gables,” which her classes have done several times over the years that I taught at the school. To add more to the play I found music to go along with the dialogue.
I have always been interested in my ancestral heritage, especially on my mother’s side, but never had the time to delve into it.
In a way, it’s as if I have simply been on a seven-month hiatus and am now returning to my regularly scheduled job.
I rarely, if ever, caught a cold during the years I was teaching, with seven classes a day coming in and out of my classroom, bringing their sniffles, snuffles, sneezes and coughs with them.