An Observation: La Traviata

The Museum of Michael’s Mind

An Observation: La Traviata

We just have arrived home from a dress rehearsal of the opera which is the opener of the 2007/2008 season at the Lyric Opera of Chicago. “La Traviata.” By Giuseppe Verdi. An opera in three acts with two intermissions. Three hours in total. A war-horse as they are called, part of the seasons over and over again. First performed at Teatro La Fenice, Venice on March 6, 1853, over one hundred and fifty years ago. The music is beautiful. The voices are superb. The acting is believable. The story ... NOT! In fact, the story demonstrates one of my pet peeves. 

An aside: Gregory and I visited Venice in May of 2004. We stayed at a hotel that was just adjacent to what used to be, then was, then used to be, and now is the Teatro La Fenice. Construction of La Fenice began in 1790 and was completed in 1792. It burned to the ground in 1836. La Fenice rose from the ashes (that is what the name means) in 1844. In 1996 it was once again completely destroyed by fire. In March 2001, a court in Venice found two electricians guilty of setting the fire. Enrico Carella and his cousin, Massimiliano Marchetti, appeared to have set the building ablaze because their company was facing heavy fines over delays in repair work. Carella, the company's owner, was sent to prison for seven years, while Marchetti received a six-year sentence. It took, in the manner Italian, from 1996 until November 2004 to rebuild the opera house and the first production in the new opera house was La Traviata. How fitting.

A second aside: One morning as Gregory and I were preparing for our day’s outing in Venice, we heard a beautiful tenor’s voice drifting through our window which opened on the construction site of the most current La Fenice. The site consisted of a hole in the ground, a tall crane erected in the center of the hole, and a steel frame that would become the perimeter of the building. Wondering where the music was coming from, we peered out of our window and saw a lone construction worker, with hard hat and overalls, climbing the crane and singing. He was singing an aria from La Bohem. Was a “goose-bump” moment. Construction site, construction worker, crane, opera aria, La Fenice. Can you tell it is an experience neither of us will ever forget?

Back to the story. “La Traviata” that is. It is a story about Violetta, a courtesan (a prostitute with wealthy upper-class clients circa 17th century France) who falls in love with Alfredo and in Act One, gives up her old loose way of life to love only him.

In Act Two, Alfredo’s father persuades Violetta to give up his son for Alfredo’s own sake, his sister’s and family’s sake, and to please God. Violetta decides to leave for Paris but first writes a letter to Alfredo, packs, and leaves. Alfred arrives home, his father returns, a messenger shows up with the letter from Violetta (whom the messenger happened to meet on the road,) and Alfredo declares he will get his revenge on Violetta for leading him on and then deserting him. P.S. Violetta is dying of consumption.

In Act III, Alfredo returns to forgive Violetta and ask her forgiveness, Alfredo’s father asks her forgiveness as well, the doctor arrives, Violetta is feeling much better and stronger, and asks forgiveness from both Alfredo and his father. A moment or two later she falls over dead. At least she died happily.

Back to 1) The music was beautiful. 2) The voices superb. 3) The acting believable. 4) The story ... NOT. Here is the peeve, at least from my point of view: Why waste all that time when life passes too quickly as it is, why miss opportunities and why reap all that sadness when you could have spent your time more happily from the beginning. Why not follow your heart in love and don’t worry about what your parents or what God might say. Have you been dishonest? Have you harmed anyone? Have you been true to yourself? These should be your tests. If your answer is NO, NO, and YES ... you pass. 

Wouldn’t it be nice if it was that easy to live your life? If Violetta and Alfred had done that from the beginning, the opera would not have gone on for three hours. But maybe a brief encounter of honesty and love is worth more than any three hour period of time? Maybe the opera was closer to real-life than I imagined!

Every now and then this song comes on

and I take the time to let myself cry and breath

and cry and breath.

Gregory and I first heard this piece when

we were in Tuscany for the first time in 1999.

How Can I Go On

Freddie Mercury, Montserrat Caballé

When all the salt is taken from the sea,
I stand dethroned,
I'm naked and I bleed.
But when your finger no longer points the way,
Is anybody there to believe in me,
To hear my plea and take care of me?
How can I go on,
From day to day,
Who can make me strong in every way?
Where can I be safe,
Where can I belong,
In this great big world of sadness?
How can I forget

Those beautiful dreams that we shared.
They're lost and they're no where to be found.
How can I go on?
Sometimes I tremble in the dark.
I cannot see,
When people frighten me.
I try to hide myself so far from the crowd.
Is anybody there to comfort me?
Lord, take care of me.

La Traviata

We just have arrived home from a dress rehearsal of the opera which is the opener of the 2007/2008 season at the Lyric Opera of Chicago. “La Traviata.” By Giuseppe Verdi. An opera in three acts with two intermissions. Three hours total. A war-horse as they are called, part of the seasons over and over again. First performed at Teatro La Fenice, Venice on March 6, 1853, over one hundred and fifty years ago. The music is beautiful. The voices are superb. The acting is believable. The story ... NOT! In fact, the story demonstrates one of my pet peeves. 

An aside: Gregory and I visited Venice in May of 2004. We stayed at a hotel that was just adjacent to what used to be, then was, then used to be, and now is the Teatro La Fenice. Construction of La Fenice began in 1790 and was completed in 1792. It burned to the ground in 1836. La Fenice rose from the ashes (that is what the name means) in 1844. In 1996 it was once again completely destroyed by fire. In March 2001, a court in Venice found two electricians guilty of setting the fire. Enrico Carella and his cousin, Massimiliano Marchetti, appeared to have set the building ablaze because their company was facing heavy fines over delays in repair work. Carella, the company's owner, was sent to prison for seven years, while Marchetti received a six-year sentence. It took, in the manner Italian, from 1996 until November 2004 to rebuild the opera house and the first production in the new opera house was La Traviata. How fitting.

A second aside: One morning as Gregory and I were preparing for our day’s outing in Venice, we heard a beautiful tenor’s voice drifting through our window which opened on the construction site of the most current La Fenice. The site consisted of a hole in the ground, a tall crane erected in the center of the hole, and a steel frame that would become the perimeter of the building. Wondering where the music was coming from, we peered out of our window and saw a lone construction worker, with hard hat and overalls, climbing the crane and singing. He was singing an aria from La Bohem. Was a “goose-bump” moment. Construction site, construction worker, crane, opera aria, La Fenice. Can you tell it is an experience neither of us will ever forget?

Back to the story. “La Traviata” that is. It is a story about Violetta, a courtesan (a prostitute with wealthy upper class clients cerca 17th centry France) who falls in love with Alfredo and in Act One, gives up her old loose way of life to love only him.

In Act Two, Alfredo’s father persuades Violetta to give up his son for Alfredo’s own sake, his sister’s and family’s sake, and to please God. Violetta decides to leave for Paris but first writes a letter to Alfredo, packs, and leaves. Alfred arrives home, his father returns, a messenger shows up with the letter from Violetta (whom the messenger happened to meet on the road,) and Alfredo declares he will get his revenge on Violetta for leading him on and then deserting him. P.S. Violetta is dying of consumption.

In Act III, Alfredo returns to forgive Violetta and ask her forgiveness, Alfredo’s father asks her forgiveness as well, the doctor arrives, Violetta is feeling much better and stronger, and asks forgiveness from both Alfredo and his father. A moment or two later she falls over dead. At least she died happy.

Back to: 1) The music was beautiful. 2) The voices superb. 3) The acting believable. 4) The story ... NOT. Here is the peeve, at least from my point of view: Why waste all that time when life passes too quickly as it is, why miss opportunities, and why reap all that sadness when you could have spent your time more happily from the beginning. Why not follow your heart in love and don’t worry about what your parents or what God might say. Have you been dishonest? Have you harmed anyone? Have you been true to yourself? These should be your tests. If your answer are NO, NO, and YES ... you pass. 

Wouldn’t it be nice if it was that easy to live your life? If Violetta and Alfred had done that from the beginning, the opera would not have gone on for three hours. But maybe a brief encounter of honesty and love is worth more than any three hour period of time? Maybe the opera was closer to real life than I imagined!

January 23, 2010 - Revised

Toilet Paper

This morning, as I was sitting there, I realized that there is something wonderful about a fresh new roll of toilet paper, just installed. No really! Think about it. A new beginning. A fresh start. A rebirth? Clean, crisp, full. White. 1,000 sheets. Preferably wrapped in an individual paper wrapper. Pristine. Pure. White. Useful and ready to go. Dispensing up and over the roll so as to be more sanitary for the next person, especially if you are the next person. The sound it makes as you roll off those first few sheets. The fullness of the roll reassuring you that you will not want. It doesn’t matter that the sheets may or may not tear at the perforations. It doesn’t matter whether you fold, fan, or bunch. What matters is the satisfaction of knowing that your needs will be met.

In Mexico, outside of a public toilet at the beach, a little old lady, and I mean wrinkled and little and old ancient lady sits at a table with little piles of newspaper, cut into four inch squares, for sale ... 1 peso a pile. Just think what she could do with a fresh roll of toilet paper.

In Chicago, in a booth you are occupying at the department store, just think how reassuring it would be to have a fresh, personal roll of toilet paper, wrapped or unwrapped, when on finishing up you realize that there is an empty dispenser on the wall to your right.

In Italy, squatting over a hole in the floor at the train station (hearing the train’s whistle approach from a distance) think how delighted you would be to have a roll of the soft, silky white stuff in your backpack rather than having to use the greenish, sandpaper like roll of stuff sitting on the floor next to the wall on which you are bracing yourself so as not fall into the toilet hole.

See what I mean. There IS something wonderful about a fresh new roll of toilet paper, just installed.