Opera Memories

When I was little, I wanted to be a singer, and not just any singer, an opera singer. I don't think I knew what opera was at the time, but I knew that opera was the grandest form of singing that there was, and if I was going to do anything, I was going to do it big. (Modesty has never been an issue with me.)

A love for theater runs in the family. My grandmother was a huge fan, and when I was around 8 she gave me an old book of hers, Minute Stories of the Opera. I still have it, though it wasn't until I was in high school that I noticed that, in the front, she wrote her full name, address, the date (Oct 14th, 1936) and her age: 15 years, 5 months and 12 days.

At the time, I was enthralled with the art deco style of the illustrations (very different from the kiddie comic books I was used to) and the stories, which brimmed over with love and violence. (Not so different from fairy tales, come to think of it.) 

The reason I'm telling you all this is that Houston Grand Opera is performing the first opera I ever saw (La Boheme) at Miller Outdoor Theater this weekend. Two performances, Friday and Saturday, so if you can't make one, you can go to the other. Or go to both! It's free.