Welcome to the July edition of Through the Cracks. I know, just barely the July edition. I must admit that I’ve been a little summer-distracted, both by the heat and by a challenging writing project that I am working on at the moment. But I couldn’t let the month past without scribing a few thoughts about the season. And, I had a little surprise I wanted to share, so I hope that you will keep reading!
How do you experience summer? I often experience it through memory. I would love to hear your stories, so leave a comment if you want to share.
Feel free to share the newsletter to others. Later this year, I’ll be making some changes to the offerings here at Through the Cracks, more news about that later. For now, read, I hope enjoy, and share the word if you know someone who might like to join our growing little band of readers.
Summers past…
There are months in the year that leave me flooded with memories…not just pictures and images but feelings, feelings both in body and soul. July is one of those months.
July, particularly when the heat arrives (as it has in these last weeks), sends my memories down so many different wooded pathways. My body remembers the heat. And these memories often take the bittersweet paths, calling up the days when Gracie’s liver cancer continued to grow and we knew that her days with us grew shorter and shorter. My body response definitely speaks to me of the days of my own waiting as the calendar grew closer and closer to the date of my valve replacement surgery planned for September. And there are other rememberings, less bittersweet but no less poignant: days of long summer travel to distant locations so that I could build my resume as a singer, for example. Memories of taxi rides across Bulgaria from the city of Sophia in the west to the coast in the east, followed by hot, sweaty days of rehearsing in unairconditioned theatres, days interspersed with walks along the Black Sea and evenings at seaside tavernas sharing plates heaped with grilled meats and tomatoes and cucumbers and feta. And so many similar trips — summers in Verona, learning Italian, coaching Verdi, and spending every night possible experiencing the ultimate opera performances under the stars at the famed Arena. Great opportunities, one and all, but long, long weeks away from everyone I loved, and all in pursuit of a goal that…well, that discussion is for another essay. I have to say that I do not miss that life.
Singing, not performing…
Let me just say that for many years I had confused the idea of performing and the gift that singing can be. The result of that confusion was a whole lot of pain and ever so many tears. I love them both, performing and singing, but even then, I was in search of something different than performing when I was singing. It was only in finding a separation between the two, learning clearly that singing and performing are NOT the same activity, that I began to find some peace. It is only here, in this place, that I’ve considered the possibility that I might sing again.
I’m not going to suggest that I have found the answer to that quest, but lately, the idea of singing has stopped causing a painful reaction. Remembering all the great opportunities that I had as a singer no longer makes me sad. Thinking of all the hard work, all the discipline, all the trying — these things are taking their place as good memories, good growth, good learning. I am starting to find the thread again of where these experiences live in the fabric that I create each day, the fabric of my living and of my life.
See? This is what July does to me. July, and the stifling heat, also cause me to clean things out…drawers, cupboards, closets, and even computer files. And so imagine my surprise when I found a few unreleased recordings in one of those digital vaults. Long after performing was no longer fun, when it became something I chose not to pursue actively, recording in the studio remained my favorite way to sing. Now, in my July hindsight, I realize that it was in the studio that I began to get to the essence of singing for me…again, a topic for another time. It was in the recording studio that I began to learn where making music lived in my being.
And so, today, as my July gift to you for reading this newsletter these past months, I offer one of those “found” recordings: a studio cut of the traditional How Can I Keep from Singing, in an arrangement by Richard Walter. I think that, for many of us, this song is an anthem for life. The tune of this 19th century American hymn, composed by American Baptist minister Robert Lowry (originally published in 1869), has words written by a woman only known to posterity as Pauline T. (with protest verses added in the 1950’s by Doris Plenn).
Everyone sings it. If you go to church anywhere, it is probably in your hymnal. Some of the better-known versions have come from Pete Seeger, Irish musician Enya, Bruce Springsteen, and even actor/activist Martin Sheen chose this song to make his singing debut on the radio show A Prairie Home Companion. Over the years, Pauline T.’s more overtly Christian lyrics have been replaced with more universally humanist texts, but the soaring spiritual call to acknowledge the gift of life each day, no matter what the circumstances, remains in place. In my mind, there is no greater song to point us to the power of music to crack open the human soul allowing us to feel the echo between our souls and all of creation. The presence of that echo is for me the difference between singing and performing. I hope this helps you hear that echo too.
Thank you for reading this edition of Through the Cracks: Beauty and Light from the Broken Places. The newsletter remains free through the end of 2023, so share it with your friends if you are a subscriber, or, if you are not, I hope that you will add your name to the list. More things to come as the path of this year winds on…sign up now so that you can keep up with all the happenings.
And if something that I’ve written hear has touched you, I would love to dialogue with you through the comments.
Susan, I had no idea. Thank you for 'putting' this out here. Oddly enough, it is when we don't give a sh... that we make music with the most freedom, abandon and passion. I hope that you 'sing' often, not to perform, but to release the energy inside and give it flight!!! JK