Pavarotti, the Docmenary by Ron Howard

The Ron Howard documentary about Luciano  Pavarotti is playing a the Cape Cinema in Dennis. I went yesterday afternoon and was surprised that there was a sizable crowd on a decent (but changeable) Sunday afternoon.  Of course the crowd was mostly senior citizens -- the younger ones were the likely beach crowd. 

The documentary seemed long, it covered all of his life from boyhood in a small Italian town just post-war with a father who was a tenor in the local church choir, to his enormous success which blossomed most when he was led, by managers, mostly away from the opera stage to the public stage -- the tremendously successful "Three Tenors" period and then huge rock-star-type appearances, and collaboration with Bono, attendance at the events in England by Princess Diana. He was charismatic, he was a major "diva" if the word can be applied to a tenor (and it seems appropriate). He was good-hearted and seemed to always be at ease although he said he was terrifie before every performance.

In fact, I saw him in some Met simulcasts and felt he really couldn't act his way out of a paper bag but he had the 9 high Cs for Daughter of the Regiment and they seemed effortless. I never liked his voice as much as I did Placido Domingo's but that's a matter of personal taste. He was not as handsome as the other tenors either which really didn't matter. The exciting scene in the movie, for me, was the closing aria of the first Three Tenors concert when one felt an enormous sense of delight among the three great men (Jose Carraras not as well known as the others but with a wonderful voice having survived a cancer that took him away from the stage for a few years). When the three blended their powerful voices on the "vincera" syllables at the end of the  "nesum dorma" aria from Turandot it was goosebumps time and elation. They were so clearly enjoying their performance and one another and the vast audience.  A wonderful way to have spent an afternoon. I went to Roger Ebert's review and he was much more fulsome than I have been. Bravo Luciano, bravo Ron Howard.

Biography of Edna St. Vincent Millay

Here I am in Camden, Maine, birthplace of Edna St. Vincent Millay with her statue.  I'm 5-7, she was only 5-1, so you see she's bigger than life --which she often wished to be in real life. Her biography Savage Beauty, by Nancy Milford has been on my bedside table for over a month. She was beautiful, everyone said so and her pictures are lovely up to her 40s. The book is 400 pages long and  dense and I usually read only 10 or 29 pages just before going to bed. Her poetry is not read much now, it's a style that is no longer popular.

I knew almost nothing about her when I started the book. It is very detailed and quotes many of her poems. (She especially wrote sonnets - or 14 line poems that do not necessary fit into usual sonnet definition). She had a very, very difficult childhood. The oldest of three sisters, she was often, from age 10 or so, left in charge of the little ones in a big cold house, with very little money for food or anything. Her mother was nurse who took live-in jobs that might last a couple of weeks. Her father  deserted after the youngest was born and rarely sent any money.  

She was undoubtedly a genius with words and created a reputation very early and was for many years the most popular poet in America (more so than Frost). Her life was largely chaos.  After various lesbian affairs at Vassar she discovered men and could have been called a nymphomaniac. After a long time she married a Dutchman who totally adored her. His family had a fortune from import/export business but he devoted himself to Edna (or Vincent as she was very often called). Her poetry had the kind of sales best selling novelists enjoy today. Her stage presence (and radio readings) were apparently magnificent.

The further I got into the book the more I realized that she was a monster of selfishness and whimsicality. She smoked constantly and drank hugely and by the last ten years of her life had become a serious alcoholic, morphine addict (as well as many other drugs). She pulled herself out of drug stupors late in life to write propagandistic poetry about why America should NOT be isolationist but should fight Hitler. I am not a strong historian but I was shocked how extremely isolationist America was even after Hitler invaded Holland and Paris.

The book was always an interesting read but also distressing to follow her self-destruction, her utter lack of self-control or understanding about people or finances, her manipulation of people and final irresponsibility.  (And her family was not much better although her husband was almost a saint.)

I've been given the even larger biography of Leonardo di Vinci to read next.  I won't be writing about that book for a long time yet.

Summer is around the corner

This magnificent lily was part of a lovely bouquet granddaughter Cori gave me for my birthday earlier this month. Oh, my, how time flies. I should rename this blog Big 8-0  And Moving On.  In all my younger years I never really contemplated anything over 70 so it's all an amazing surprise. And I just realized I've been living on Cape Cod for about 12 years. How is that possible??? Well it was one day at a time like all of life.  And it's all good.

Summer here on usually doesn't really happen until after the solstice, and that's a week from Friday. I have my first of the season walk on the beach this morning, about 65 degrees and humid. One sunbather out, and others casually clad -- but barefoot.

When I see the dawn I always think of Kipling's
"Road to Mandalay" ...
the dawn comes up like thunder...
this photo seems to say exactly that.
This time of year I'm not always awake to see the dawn as I have breakfast (as is true about 2/3rds of the year. Now sunlight  seems to soak through the bedroom curtains and wake me about 5:00 before the sun is actually up. So I close my eyes until the clock radio gives me about three minutes of music and one or two short minutes of local news including the weather forecast. Soon I'll be having a quick breakfast and taking myself to Long Beach for an early walk -- some mornings I'm alone and feel I own the place.

Stash smashing

I've decided to see how many scrap quilts I can get done this summer. This is the first stash-smasher -- strip pieced on drier sheets. Top is finished, quilting next.  I havent't decided on a back yet but it will also be a stash-smasher using at least 6 fabrics. 

I've begun a selvage quilt -- I have quite a fat bag of selvages to use -- I'm making a dent, but really only a dent. More on that later.