I heart you, Kara Morgan. Thanks for the laughs.

This last day of Autumn, I find myself surrounded by the common theme of new dreams, uncharted challenges, and new adventures to discover. Last week, blessed by four completely different performances for which to prepare and perform, I had the opportunity to check in with my incredibly talented and diverse friends and colleagues. One friend had just produced her second one-woman show. Another contemplated her next steps to her rise to hopeful fame, while a third shared her desire to sing jazz despite not knowing quite where to start. Bold steps by brave people.

Taking me to a black belt Aikido test, another adventurous man opened my eyes to the calm intensity of a challenging practice that intrigues me, and I had the chance to watch even a handful of elderly participants test for their black belt after years of training and discipline. Finally, at a party hosted by some invaluable friends, a photographer friend Michael Chadwick convinced me to run a marathon with him. So, for next Autumn, I’ve decided to run the ING NYC Marathon to support Team for Kids, a non-profit organization working to keep children active and combat childhood obesity. I’ll have more information in future posts, hopefully including details about a team to join if you’d like to take up the challenge with me! In the meantime, please consider helping me get off to a running start with a donation of any amount.

In the similar rush of these changing seasons as Autumn comes to a close, New Year’s seems already upon us, and my friends and I contemplate actions of almost spring-like renewal. In celebration of the rebirth we each have when we wake to a new day and open ourselves to new possibilities, I leave you once again with my dear friend and hero, Kara Morgan. Her ability to create her dreams literally and figuratively, always with a dash of humor, inspires me regularly to take the leaps that scare me most. May we all have such courage to wake up to our dreams this holiday season.

Photo by Andy Drabic

In a life filled with rehearsals, performances, excellent music and art, and wickedly talented and brilliant colleagues, I admittedly forget my surroundings on a fairly regular basis. Yes, I know how to get to Carnegie Hall and while it remains one of my favorite halls in which to sing, walking onstage now feels normal, as does sitting behind a world-class orchestra, conducted by a beloved and famous conductor.

Despite my comfort with this rather unusual life, this month has surprised me in the simplest ways, stirring again my sometimes spoiled heart, mind, and spirit. Earlier this fall, I transitioned to working with a new church choir at the beautiful St. Jean Baptiste on the Upper East Side. Kyler Brown leads a lovely and talented but down-to-earth group, and we traveled together to the small town of Hawley, PA this weekend for what I assumed would be a sweet but run-of-the-mill gig.

Aside from the touching hospitality of our hosts, Kyler and Bill, and the warm, full audience, my ego fully melted away for a moment in the striking company of so many open and welcoming souls. A local writer composed a poem, set to music by Kyler Brown as a lovely hymn dedicated to the town of Hawley. As she read her poetry with the skill of a Shakespearean actor, I found myself transformed into a child, listening to the most fascinating story ever told.

As the final blow to my pampered poise, “Silent Night” made me cry. Seriously. We sang a piece called “Night of Silence” that fits perfectly into the chord structure of “Silent Night,” although it sounds completely different. After the first verse, one of our basses led the audience in “Silent Night,” above the framework of okour song. As waves of honest and simple sound poured over us, tears came to my eyes, and I realized the precious beauty of such a rare moment in time.

Although I too love my television, iPod, computer and subways, I also appreciate how much we lose when we forget that we can sing together, share moments of honest beauty together, and shield ourselves together from the cold in real, present, and alive ways this season. Last night, I had the extreme joy of hearing my dear friend Jen Elliot play solo guitar and sing alone for the first time, on her birthday. Tonight, in the Greek Cathedral concert in which I sang, I enjoyed the bassoon solo for the first time, ever. I couldn’t be happier to have gone out in the cold pre-winter air, when the rewards come so readily and so beautifully.

Wishing you a very happy holiday season, real, present, and full of surprising firsts.

Tonight in South Jersey, my high school friends will pay a long-deserved tribute to a woman who helped shape my life in more ways than I can imagine. Christine Bass, the director of choral activities at Cherry Hill High School West for twenty-two years, retired last year and began work at a local college. Since I cannot attend, I want to take the time to thank Cris, who played an enormous part in molding the musician I’ve become.

This fall, I had the privilege of singing Mahler’s Resurrection Symphony with the New York Philharmonic in the New York Choral Artists, prepared by Joseph Flummerfelt and conducted by the philharmonic’s conductor, Alan Gilbert. Well, thanks to Cris Bass, I started on this path at the age of fifteen, singing Bernstein’s Chichester Psalms with West Singers and the Haddonfield Symphony, then directed by none other than… conductor Alan Gilbert. She had modeled West Singers based on her experiences with the Westminster Choir, conducted by Joseph Flummerfelt. Inspired by her example and taught privately by Christine and her good friend Linda Blakeley, I too gained acceptance and attended Westminster Choir College, where I also sang with Joseph Flummerfelt and the Westminster Choir, in which I truly began my professional career as a chorister and opera singer.

My Carnegie Hall and Lincoln Center performances, my appreciation for classical music in general, many of the choral pieces I encounter regularly as a professional that I’ve known by heart for more than a decade- all these trace back to Christine Bass in some way or another. She taught us sight singing every day in every single class. By my senior year, I had converted so thoroughly to my choir geekdom that I participated in West Singers, Chamber Singers, Vocal Workshop, and Chansons, so I did a lot of sight singing. Thanks to that foundation, I can hold my own alongside the most brilliant choral professionals in the city, and conductors have complimented me on my ability to connect with the conductor and audience in a performance. No doubt this began at a young age, when as part of her program, I memorized a vast amount of music each year between our regular repertoire and a three-hour annual concert entitled Broadway Night, which she used initially as a brilliant tool to recruit students.

By the time I student taught for her assistant Jim Boeckle my senior year of college, they had over seven hundred students in choir, between the high school and the junior high school. In the twenty-two years she taught at Cherry Hill High School West, she won awards for teacher of the year, conducted select regional choirs, and brought her choirs acclaim just about everywhere they went. More than that, she introduced children like myself to different styles of music from musical theatre to sacred and secular classical choral music.

Personally, I will never forget our performance in the main hall at the Kennedy Center after working with St. Olaf Choir’s director Anton Armstrong. She brought us there to compete, and along the way we learned how to truly sing a spiritual, Elijah Rock. Singing it for the congregants at a huge gospel church in DC only sealed the deal for me. That year, we also sang Mozart’s Ave Verum Corpus, along with the Chichester Psalms, and I learned my first lesson in the spiritual power of music, regardless of race or religion.

Cris, thank you. You never gave up on your students or the high hopes you had for our musical education. Thank you for being so true to yourself and all of us everyday. I don’t say often enough how much of my meaningful and regularly inspired adult life stems from the lessons and the influences of my youth. Truly, I arrived into this world a lover of music, acting, and art; however, without Christine Bass, I would never have developed into the artist and musician I am today. Would I still sing professionally? Might I have been an English teacher or writer instead? Perhaps I would never have sung at the Metropolitan Opera or with the Berlin Philharmonic. Who knows, but I highly doubt my life would have taken quite this path.

To Cris, to whom I eternally owe my gratitude, thank you.

]]> http://skydivingforpearls.wordpress.com/2011/11/26/an-ode-to-christine-bass/feed/ 6 skydivingforpearls Once Upon a Time with Christine Bass http://skydivingforpearls.wordpress.com/2011/11/17/what-i-really-think-about-investidate-and-more-important-questions/ http://skydivingforpearls.wordpress.com/2011/11/17/what-i-really-think-about-investidate-and-more-important-questions/#comments Thu, 17 Nov 2011 21:56:48 +0000 Abigail Wright https://skydivingforpearls.wordpress.com/?p=1225 ]]>

Perhaps I waited too long to write my follow up on InvestiDate and figured the news segments would speak for themselves. Since at least one of my friends seems to believe that Maria Coder is brooding fear by teaching people tools to investigate their potential dates, I think the time has come for me to speak honestly and clearly about my experiences and her class. When I met Maria Coder and decided to attend her first of likely countless classes she will teach, I didn’t know what to expect. With an intentionally open-minded outlook on life most days, I thought it couldn’t hurt, and perhaps I might learn something, as a single woman living alone in a big city. I did.

InvestiDate helps you stay safe

Two classes and two interviews later (Catch my Today Show segment here and my meeting with ABC Eyewitness News anchor Sandra Bookman above.), I have an opinion. Crazy or cautious? Well, the psychologist who commented on my segment of the Today Show would have you see me as one of the “paranoid” types of women who would take “that kind of class.”

Although I’ve never before admitted this in public, I have had some difficulties here and there, growing up, dating, and even just going out with friends in public spaces. Despite having had some incredible experiences meeting, loving, and knowing people in my lifetime, I’ve also loved someone who lied to me for many years, had someone slip a roofie in my drink (thankfully without the intended outcome, thanks to the presence of a very dear friend), and suffered a separate date rape many years ago. In reality, I’ve chosen to leave plenty of equally trying experiences out of this discussion. Were I afraid now, I would have every right. I suppose, not knowing me closely enough to see the personal growth I’ve experienced since then, one might easily suspect me of at least paranoia.

If, however, you’ve read any of my other blog posts or know my life, you know I do not tend to err on the side of paranoia, no less caution. I went skydiving because it scared me. Singing a cappella opera, nude, as all of the other models leave the stage in Sarah Small’s Tableau Vivant of the Delirium Constructions and publicly writing about it has left me with an incredible influx of amazing fans and some less flattering folks exhibiting some stalker-like behavior. Not exactly the action of a paranoid woman, and certainly one of the most challenging but meaningful things I’ve done in my lifetime thus far.

Anyway, I won’t lie and try to say that dating hasn’t presented its share of challenges too. Sure, sometimes I need to regroup after a hard breakup and take a little time. Skeptics of InvestiDate, now is the time to read carefully. Initially, after Maria’s class, I questioned my readiness to restart dating. When a dog leaned up against me on the street that night to get me to pet him, I thought, “May be I should just stick to dogs.” Surprisingly though, over the course of the next two weeks, the seed that had been planted at the first class began to sprout thoughts in my head about dating websites and that really nice guy in the neighborhood. Before I knew what had influenced me, I had already updated my profile on okcupid and started checking out new sites. I again somehow had the confidence to date.

Maria teaches tools to keep people informed and safe, not hidden away in their apartments, afraid of a connection with another human being. She actually approves of dating on Craigslist and recommends ways to do it safely. These are not the actions of a fear monger. She is not teaching us how to put duct tape and water bottles in a box in case Al Qaeda attacks. Like a teacher of a self defense class, she instructs each student regardless of gender, background, confidence or fear.

If a somewhat fearful person attends InvestiDate and, by making sure her date isn’t a sexual predator, feels better about allowing a little more trust and vulnerability when meeting a stranger in the city, good for her! For the record, I don’t intend to use most of the tools she teaches, but I will employ some. Honestly, when a video of me singing nude has circulated to hundreds of thousands of people already, on its way to a documentary, I think I’m a fool if I don’t take any precautions here or there. Still, even Maria Coder admits on the most recent news segment that the point is “to give you the power to make an informed dating decision.”

On a day like today, when the whole world seems bent on having an opinion, let’s make them count. Be clear, be unified where you can, and above all, please don’t waste time worrying about people who only want to empower us to move forward with our lives. While we’re at it, may be we can figure out some ways to help each other live our lives together more easily and fruitfully. I don’t have the answers. I don’t know who does. I do know there are better things to question. I wonder, “What will happen at the Brooklyn Bridge at 5pm, and what happens if the super-committee doesn’t reach its deadline?”

Oh Halloween, how you amuse me! In sixth grade, I dressed as Freddy Krueger, mask, nails and all. Other memorable costumes include a witch, a pregnant nun, a Fila and hoop-earring-wearing Jersey Shore type (before the show ever aired), and an Afghan (yes, with a blanket over my head).

This year, dressed as the green fairy herself, I head down to see a filming of the Conan O’Brien Show with my friend Gal Natel and hopefully catch the end of a Halloween party to which I’ve been looking forward all year. On the way, a pirate serenaded me with my favorite sea chanty, “What do you do with a drunken sailor,” of course reminding me of my sailboat-loving father who sometimes sings it on his boat.

It must be a Dad kind of Halloween, because I remembered him earlier today while cutting up the pumpkin for my infamous pumpkin banana bread. Pumpkins are a pain! As much as they create a challenge for anyone trying to carve them, my family went to pick out a great pumpkin each year for my father to painstakingly turn into a whimsical jack-o-lantern. Just like our Christmas trees, I had to give our hand-picked pumpkin a name.

“Mommy, Lucy’s in the middle of the road!” I cried one morning, saddened to see trucks driving precariously past our giant pumpkin, Lucy, who someone had cruelly placed on top of the yellow lines on Main Street where we lived. I don’t know if I thought Lucy had walked out there on her own, but I remember feeling terrified! He must have heard my cry first, because Dad swiftly rescued Lucy like a beloved family pet, to the joyous smile of his young and admittedly overly sensitive daughter.

I’ll never forget the day my Dad rescued Lucy or the way he used to make me laugh, smile, and sometimes roll my eyes with his renditions of songs by The Beatles, Billy Joel, and random folk tunes and sea chanties. Indeed, I consider myself incredibly fortunate that he still does. My Mom doesn’t take me out trick-or-treating, but she still warns me about excess and will tape The Conan Show tonight to see if she can spot my green wig. I’m a lucky girl to have two loving parents this Halloween. Mom and Dad, thank you, and please feel free to stick around for many costumed years to come.

You might not guess it by reading the sparsely scattered posts I’ve written since September, but I just began week seven of an eight week course called “The Actor’s Business Breakthrough” by Dallas Travers. She says that a feeling of discomfort and overwhelm can sometimes accompany making a big change in one’s life, and I suspect I should just move forward with the faith that she’s right and breathe. With seemingly unlimited options and tasks, I thankfully drew in a big inhalation at this week’s class discussion: values.

First realization? All of my values are worthy. On the other hand, when I disproportionately focus on my fourth or fifth most important value, my first value (emotional balance) suffers terribly. So, I need to reshuffle my priorities (a great regular exercise) to keep numbers one, two, and three on top.

Second realization? Also my second value: contribution. Happily, I realized I make many contributions in my career and life: egg donations, meaningful performances, and participating to help further the careers of others. This week, I had the opportunity to work with Kara Morgan on episodes of The Kara Morgan Show and film for an upcoming Today Show (watch for it this week!) to discuss my experiences with Investidate! I can’t wait to show and tell those opportunities to chip in and help out these two talented women.

When I first auditioned for Who Wants to Be a Millionaire, I commented to my dear friend Leat Klingman that I wanted to free myself of debt so that I could make a contribution to society. She insisted on making me see how many priceless contributions I already make as an artist, a perspective I now gratefully appreciate and cherish. As I ride the subway home tonight, I also remember Skydiving for Pearls and my joy in contributing here. Like so many things often brought to the forefront and then reshuffled, writing, exercising, and maintaining a bedtime elude me from time to time when change comes to play. Remembering what matters to me most and welcoming its impact? The perfect deep inhalation of peace I needed. Thank you Dallas, for the opportunity to prioritize and re-balance my values. For the record, it didn’t hurt me one bit, if anyone else considers giving it a try.

Kent Tritle’s Organ Recital. Tonight. 8pm. You have 2 hours to get there. Go.

Seriously, aside from the fact that the title of the event rhymes brilliantly, Kent Tritle is an incredible organist. According to an extremely talented friend of mine who has played upon this recently refurbished Schantz organ, it remains one of the best early music organs on the East side. If that doesn’t mean much to you but you love the organ, believe me, you’ll understand by the end of the concert.

Tonight, Kent will feature works by George Crumb, Larry King, Ned Rorem, and Julius Reubke, and I can pretty much guarantee you won’t regret attending.

Gone are the days when I hear the phrase, “Oh, it must be so easy for you,” in reference to myself or anyone else dating or finding a good match. Still, people often look surprised upon hearing that New York has a reputation for stacking the numbers in favor of the single man, and even those who defend the dating scene here admit (and, in true New York fashion, like the fact) that it isn’t easy. Although I have learned so many beautiful lessons, found priceless and lasting friendships, and truly value those I’ve met while dating in the city, I admit I have suffered occasional defeat.

I once wrote a post (or two or three) about dating; however, I admittedly shy away from discussing such a topic online, especially when it involves other people I respect. Even omitting any mention of the couple of mixers and speed dating events I’ve attended during and because of my efforts writing  Skydiving for Pearls, I seem to have decided to remain a bit of a mystery in this area of my life. Don’t expect that to change anytime soon.

On the other hand, when I stumble upon something of interest to myself and potentially other women (or men) who, like me, navigate the sometimes muddy waters of the single life in Manhattan, I feel obliged to share. At a group exercise/dance class downtown last night, I met Maria Coder, founder of InvestiDate. As a former journalist and certified investigative reporter, Maria has steered her life toward helping people learn the skills necessary to date smartly.

With a surprisingly optimistic outlook, this dating sleuth told me that she doesn’t judge the way someone chooses to try to find a mate. Craigslist, for example, could theoretically work with the right investigative mindset before making potentially dangerous mistakes on a date with a stranger. When she invited me to her class this Thursday with a discount, I decided to give it a try. Hopefully I have already learned the street smarts not to put myself in situations that might harm me, but I don’t doubt I might learn something new.

For those of you wondering, “Is this what we’ve come to – not trusting anyone and doing background checks on my husband?” I suspect the lovely Maria has a more balanced approach. Based on our brief conversation, I believe she wants to help women succeed in their efforts to find whatever they seek by dating in the city, without putting themselves in physical or financial danger. Sometimes we can’t avoid emotional pain, but I look forward to this class on Thursday where I may just learn to try my best. Either way, I doubt my heart can ever doubt too much to once again fall in love.

For anyone wishing to join me, Maria has kindly offered my readers the same $5 discount she offered me for Thursday night’s class, Investidate: How to Investigate Your Date – Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing 101! Just enter the code PEARLS at checkout. Hope to see you there! Don’t worry guys, you know I still love you.