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I thought I'd wax all nostalgic about the month of December, 1971.
It was during that month that I met my first lover. So, you may well ask, just what did that have to do with music? Well, I met him precisely because of music.
Okay, details (expurgated, to protect all parties, guilty or otherwise).
On December 12, we (I believe this time I was tagging along with the U of T chorus) were supposed to be at the CFTO studios in Agincourt (of course, today it's all supposed to be Toronto, but certain individuals – comme moi – still adhere to the borough names and Agincourt was in Scarborough) to film a TV special, “The Gift of Music”.
Most of my friends were going by car and ::wibbles:: there was apparently no room for me. So I had to take the bus hired to transport the rest of us from the Faculty of Music on Queen's Park Crescent (south of the Museum). I boarded and sat down on the first double seat on the right side. And then he got on and sat down next to me. Oh, yes. I definitely liked what I saw!
We met again at the choir party at Lloyd Bradshaw's apartment building a week later and there was sparkage, so much so that I decided that he was the one. ::giggles:: He just didn't know it at the time. There was also a pool party for which I wore a purple velvet panne bikini. Also shenanigans in the separate men's/women's saunas which some of us (I wonder who, NOT) integrated.
Also, during the month, I was busy performing. One of my faculty friends (a year ahead of me) and I were in a quartet of carollers, dressed in Victorian garb, strolling through the Sutton Place Hotel ... and (obviously) singing. I think that went on for an entire week. It was a fun social time for us as well. We were served dinner every night in the hotel and, one night, a couple in the bar invited us back to their apartment for drinks. Now, remember, this was early days for stereo equipment and they had a quadraphonic sound system which was considered to be a big thing, not to mention expensive. But, hey, they were actually living in a fancy hotel, so money wasn't a problem. Now, when I think about it, I remember just the living room being ginormous. Anyway, we did have a very enjoyable time, acting all cosmopolitan and stuff. And – hee – performing!
I also got to sing all by myself from the inside balcony of the Planetarium (yeah, I know, Planetarium-what?) with the sound being broadcast outside for the enjoyment of the holiday public and he came to hear me sing. ::basks in the memory of another proud moment::
Okay, back to him. In many ways – in retrospect (isn't that always the case) – we had very little in common. But we both did love music. Our best times together were enhanced by the Bruch and Mendelssohn violin concertos, Lighthouse, and perhaps a titch of Ravel's Bolero. Mmm-hmm. One recording he loved to play was Elgar's Enigma Variations. I believe I countered with Smetana's Ma Vlast. Just a lot of lush music that was important to us. We used to hit the record shop at Hazelton Lanes on a regular basis.
And we sang in the choir together (and travelled with the choir to Ottawa where I tried to skate on the Rideau Canal wearing my childhood skates and Montréal where we went running to eat at Ben's – alas, an institution no longer there – in the middle of a frigid, namely a normal winter, night).
And he was there, being all supportive, when I gave my graduating recital in April of 1973 (when I performed Grieg, Beethoven and ... MY own composition, a flute concerto).
One oddity. If you've heard about the Mozart Effect, then you know about the alleged (Ha! Say I. Alleged, my foot.) connection between musical skill and mathematics. Well, though I never did well at certain segments of math (such as Trig), I adored Algebra and Geometry. He was in 1st year in Engineering Science while I was in my 3rd year in Music. We would often study together, he sitting at his desk and I lying in his bed, usually doing counterpoint. I will never, ever, ever (Oh, God, I hope not) forget the day he'd been trying to puzzle through something in his class assignment. I took one look at it and said (and believe me, I consider this to be my one crowning “Rodney McKay” moment of my life), “Oh, the answer is the square root of 3.” He was stunned and then shook me, wanting to know how I figured it out. Well, I said I didn't know how, I just knew the answer.
I also remember going to watch him play hockey at Varsity Arena really late at night and cheering him on.
He was 18 and I was 21 when we met. The relationship lasted about 2-1/2 years.
I didn't think I'd see him again ... but fate (or music) had a thing for bringing us back together. When Lloyd Bradshaw died, anyone who had ever sung in any of his choirs was invited to sing as a part of his memorial service in 1994. So I had to be there. As was he. I remember flirting with him outrageously at the reception afterwards (wearing fetish-like black patent ankle boots with double zippers). Musically speaking, the only thing I remember is we screwed up the modern Amen at the end of a piece which was unusual, as all of us were experienced sight-singers (who could sing something without having ever heard it before). But the conductor didn't rehearse it, so we blew it.
And, again, I thought it had been a pleasant diversion, bumping into him at the memorial. But, then, I happened to read his brother's obituary 2 years later and sent him a card of condolence as well as leaving a telephone message. While we were dating, I'd met his parents and younger sister, but neither of his brothers. So he called me back to thank me and happened to mention that our 25th anniversary was approaching. I know, I know. It was a weird thing, for him to remind me of an anniversary of a relationship that had fallen apart 22.5 years earlier. But I invited him over. In preparation, I bought three white lattice screens, two of which I hung from the ceiling at the windows and the third was placed horizontally along the wall of my TV nook. And then I went to town, covering all three with hundreds of dollars of silk vines and miniature clear Christmas tree lights, creating a magical garden bower. I cannot believe how much energy I had ... and that was only 14 years ago. Anyway, I'm getting off track ... what with decorating and all. We saw each other a few times (he took me to a concert at Harbourfront for one of them) and then drifted apart again.
And that is how December, 1971 managed to advance its tendrils for 25 years.
It was during that month that I met my first lover. So, you may well ask, just what did that have to do with music? Well, I met him precisely because of music.
Okay, details (expurgated, to protect all parties, guilty or otherwise).
On December 12, we (I believe this time I was tagging along with the U of T chorus) were supposed to be at the CFTO studios in Agincourt (of course, today it's all supposed to be Toronto, but certain individuals – comme moi – still adhere to the borough names and Agincourt was in Scarborough) to film a TV special, “The Gift of Music”.
Most of my friends were going by car and ::wibbles:: there was apparently no room for me. So I had to take the bus hired to transport the rest of us from the Faculty of Music on Queen's Park Crescent (south of the Museum). I boarded and sat down on the first double seat on the right side. And then he got on and sat down next to me. Oh, yes. I definitely liked what I saw!
We met again at the choir party at Lloyd Bradshaw's apartment building a week later and there was sparkage, so much so that I decided that he was the one. ::giggles:: He just didn't know it at the time. There was also a pool party for which I wore a purple velvet panne bikini. Also shenanigans in the separate men's/women's saunas which some of us (I wonder who, NOT) integrated.
Also, during the month, I was busy performing. One of my faculty friends (a year ahead of me) and I were in a quartet of carollers, dressed in Victorian garb, strolling through the Sutton Place Hotel ... and (obviously) singing. I think that went on for an entire week. It was a fun social time for us as well. We were served dinner every night in the hotel and, one night, a couple in the bar invited us back to their apartment for drinks. Now, remember, this was early days for stereo equipment and they had a quadraphonic sound system which was considered to be a big thing, not to mention expensive. But, hey, they were actually living in a fancy hotel, so money wasn't a problem. Now, when I think about it, I remember just the living room being ginormous. Anyway, we did have a very enjoyable time, acting all cosmopolitan and stuff. And – hee – performing!
I also got to sing all by myself from the inside balcony of the Planetarium (yeah, I know, Planetarium-what?) with the sound being broadcast outside for the enjoyment of the holiday public and he came to hear me sing. ::basks in the memory of another proud moment::
Okay, back to him. In many ways – in retrospect (isn't that always the case) – we had very little in common. But we both did love music. Our best times together were enhanced by the Bruch and Mendelssohn violin concertos, Lighthouse, and perhaps a titch of Ravel's Bolero. Mmm-hmm. One recording he loved to play was Elgar's Enigma Variations. I believe I countered with Smetana's Ma Vlast. Just a lot of lush music that was important to us. We used to hit the record shop at Hazelton Lanes on a regular basis.
And we sang in the choir together (and travelled with the choir to Ottawa where I tried to skate on the Rideau Canal wearing my childhood skates and Montréal where we went running to eat at Ben's – alas, an institution no longer there – in the middle of a frigid, namely a normal winter, night).
And he was there, being all supportive, when I gave my graduating recital in April of 1973 (when I performed Grieg, Beethoven and ... MY own composition, a flute concerto).
One oddity. If you've heard about the Mozart Effect, then you know about the alleged (Ha! Say I. Alleged, my foot.) connection between musical skill and mathematics. Well, though I never did well at certain segments of math (such as Trig), I adored Algebra and Geometry. He was in 1st year in Engineering Science while I was in my 3rd year in Music. We would often study together, he sitting at his desk and I lying in his bed, usually doing counterpoint. I will never, ever, ever (Oh, God, I hope not) forget the day he'd been trying to puzzle through something in his class assignment. I took one look at it and said (and believe me, I consider this to be my one crowning “Rodney McKay” moment of my life), “Oh, the answer is the square root of 3.” He was stunned and then shook me, wanting to know how I figured it out. Well, I said I didn't know how, I just knew the answer.
I also remember going to watch him play hockey at Varsity Arena really late at night and cheering him on.
He was 18 and I was 21 when we met. The relationship lasted about 2-1/2 years.
I didn't think I'd see him again ... but fate (or music) had a thing for bringing us back together. When Lloyd Bradshaw died, anyone who had ever sung in any of his choirs was invited to sing as a part of his memorial service in 1994. So I had to be there. As was he. I remember flirting with him outrageously at the reception afterwards (wearing fetish-like black patent ankle boots with double zippers). Musically speaking, the only thing I remember is we screwed up the modern Amen at the end of a piece which was unusual, as all of us were experienced sight-singers (who could sing something without having ever heard it before). But the conductor didn't rehearse it, so we blew it.
And, again, I thought it had been a pleasant diversion, bumping into him at the memorial. But, then, I happened to read his brother's obituary 2 years later and sent him a card of condolence as well as leaving a telephone message. While we were dating, I'd met his parents and younger sister, but neither of his brothers. So he called me back to thank me and happened to mention that our 25th anniversary was approaching. I know, I know. It was a weird thing, for him to remind me of an anniversary of a relationship that had fallen apart 22.5 years earlier. But I invited him over. In preparation, I bought three white lattice screens, two of which I hung from the ceiling at the windows and the third was placed horizontally along the wall of my TV nook. And then I went to town, covering all three with hundreds of dollars of silk vines and miniature clear Christmas tree lights, creating a magical garden bower. I cannot believe how much energy I had ... and that was only 14 years ago. Anyway, I'm getting off track ... what with decorating and all. We saw each other a few times (he took me to a concert at Harbourfront for one of them) and then drifted apart again.
And that is how December, 1971 managed to advance its tendrils for 25 years.
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