momma's kitchen
the operatic struggle
by Camille Di Loreto

Do you like going to the opera? No, honestly do you really like going? Growing up in my Italian-American household opera was very much a part of my childhood.

Two of my favorite people listened to the opera on a regular basis, my grandfather and father. My grandfather Angelo listened to the Italian radio station every afternoon broadcasted from New York. The music played generally was from Italian operas. Grandpa just loved this time of the day. My father had his special time for opera also. His scheduled listening time was on Sunday mornings. It was one sure bet if opera was playing then it was Sunday morning. It was easy to tell Sundays from other days of the week since there were two distinct features of this day. One was the opera playing and the other was the scent of garlic and onions being sautéed early in the day in preparation for the tomato sauce. As the tomato sauce bubbled in the large pot on the stove the sounds of Madame Butterfly, Tosca, or La Boheme blared from the hifi. Does anyone even know what a Hifi is, anymore? The word is such a blast from the past. For all of you who do not know, it is a precursor of the stereo. It definitely dates me. My Dad truly enjoyed this portion of time. He sat at the kitchen table reading the Sunday newspaper and sang along with the opera.

"As the tomato sauce bubbled in the large pot on the stove the sounds of Madame Butterfly, Tosca, or La Boheme blared from the hifi"

Dad was always trying to convert me into an opera enthusiast. I, on the other hand, was totally clueless. I always asked the same one question. What was the singer saying? He tried to explain all the nuances of the story yet it was beyond me. Once I remember watching an opera on TV with my father. For a child/adolescent it all appeared pretty ridiculous to watch these adults parading around in such heavy costumes and makeup singing so loudly. As I grew up I remember debating with my Dad what the point is in having the songs in another language. I just was impatient not knowing what was going on. He reassured me that, as I grew up, I would surely grow to love opera and have a greater understanding of this art form. I just figured it was another one of those Italian things I would eventually appreciate. In fact, we had a family friend who was a former opera singer. She was a lovely woman and obviously very talented. In fact every time she came to visit she sang opera. She even sang at our bbq's, which was totally embarrassing to me since all my friends in the neighborhood could hear her. Usually I just found a convenient hiding place until it was all over.

As the years went by my taste in music turned to rock and roll rather than opera much to my father's dismay. After all my generation heralded in the likes of the Beatles, Rolling Stones, Herman's Hermit and the Dave Clark 5 just to mention a few. These groups were pretty mild compared to today's standards. My father continued his Sunday ritual of listening to opera. I on the other hand collected Beatle albums and hung posters on the back of my bedroom door of the longhaired British Singing sensations. My father just went crazy seeing the long hair and hearing the music through the walls of my room. This was a battle my father, in his infinite wisdom, allowed me to win.

A few weeks ago my husband and I attended the first performance of the Dallas Opera. It was Giuseppe Verdi's Simon Boccanegra. I did all my pre-opera research. I was going to be prepared for this performance. I researched the opera on the Internet. The opera, true to form, had all the elements of a well-written soap opera placed to music. There was love lost, love found, politics, greed, parental disapproval issues and so forth.

I was anticipating the performance partially to prove to myself I finally developed the good taste both my grandfather and father possessed. I was thinking, "finally in middle age I will understand all the psychological and dramatic situations set to music!"

Do you listen to Italian Opera? yes no view results

We arrived at the theatre just in time. We took our seats. The usual announcements regarding cell phone use were heard. The lights dimmed. The curtain parted and the show began. As I sat there in this sea of strangers immersed in the darkness of the theatre my eyes lids began to get very heavy. I closed them briefly opened them again. I straightened myself in my seat. "There now." I thought, " That is much better." Good posture is necessary when watching such a cultured performance. Once again it suddenly hit me, that wave of drowsiness and I just could not fight back any longer. Obviously the wonderful pasta dish I had prior to the performance was now inducing in me into a delightful trance. I thought to myself, " It has been a long day. I will just close my eyes for a brief moment." Well that brief moment lasted the majority of the show. I woke up for intermission and returned to my sleep once intermission was over.

As we walked to the car after the performance, my husband asked me how I enjoyed the opera. I responded it was just delightful and a very relaxing evening. He burst out in a thunderous laugh. I figure my father and grandfather are laughing at me as well from heaven. So in my own defense… I can say… with all honesty…well that would never happen at a Stones concert.