Opera - Love and Hate by Betsy

I love opera.  I hate opera.  I guess that means I have one of those love/hate relationships that makes people neurotic, usually about another person.  But in this case I am neurotic about an art form.  And a beautiful art form it is.  There is nothing that stirs my emotions more intensely than a great piece of music.  A symphony, concerto, string quartet created by one of the masters.  I don’t care what period it is from--Rococo, Baroque, Classical, Romantic--any of it can put me in a  listening trance.  The better I know the music, the more stirring it is and the more it does for me. 

I can say this about some opera, but not all opera.  I am a fan of, I  think, what is commonly considered popular opera.  A Puccini area a la La Boheme will bring me to tears faster than any Beethoven piano concerto or Schubert string trio.

Unfortunately, I don’t know the names of the arias so familiar to opera fans.  I’m really not interested in their titles, nor do I feel any need to learn the unfamiliar words.  Suffice it to say that I love dramatic music. 

There is plenty to say about my hatred of opera, in spite of the love feelings.  I remember one time as a very young adult--20 something--I was in New York City and decided to take advantage of some spare time, raise my level of cultural exposure, and attend an opera at the Met.  I was very excited about this and just knew that the experience would increase my developing interest and appreciation of good music.  I was learning to really appreciate Russian music so why wouldn’t I enjoy this Mussorgsky masterpiece.  What I didn’t know is that Boris Gudanov is probably the longest opera ever written.  And heavy is the only word that comes to mind when I try to recall this experience.  The truth is I do not really remember much about it because I slept through at least one half of it.  The entire opera is  4 hours and 15 minutes long not including intermission.

I realize I do not sound like much of a music lover when I use words like heavy and boring to describe what I truly feel about some opera--the heavy, boring kind.  Not to mention names, but I’m thinking of the Wagner-esque type of opera.  

And so the development of my appreciation for opera was arrested sometime around the age of 20 something.  But no problem.  There are the few stirring well-known arias that still bring me to tears.

I must mention another point for love.  The performers are my heroes--well, more likely my heroines.  In my dreams I am an opera singer.  In my next life I am an opera singer.  Oh, to be able to open my mouth and produce such sound. Why do I always fall in love with these women?  Perhaps it is their bosoms.  Maybe I love them because they remind me so much of my grandmother, an accomplished contralto, who often held me as a young child next to her ever so soft, cuddly bosom.

There is really nothing I can do to resolve the love/hate situation here.  Just to admit that I probably will never be an opera-goer and stick to only those few arias I love.

© 7 June 2011

About the Author 

Betsy has been active in the GLBT community including PFLAG, the Denver women’s chorus, OLOC (Old Lesbians Organizing for Change).  She has been retired from the Human Services field for about 15 years.  Since her retirement, her major activities include tennis, camping, traveling, teaching skiing as a volunteer instructor with National Sports Center for the Disabled, and learning.  Betsy came out as a lesbian after 25 years of marriage. She has a close relationship with her three children and enjoys spending time with her four grandchildren.  Betsy says her greatest and most meaningful enjoyment comes from sharing her life with her partner of 25 years, Gillian Edwards.