Sunday, December 23, 2007
We took the kids to see “Amahl and the Night Visitors,” a Christmas opera by Gian Carlo Menotti. Although I don’t remember seeing it on tv, the music is part of my childhood, one of those records my mom got out every December (along with Julie Andrews and the Tijuana Brass). It’s a very easy way to enjoy opera--simple, melodic, melodramatic—and it gets me every time.
The Three Kings ask the mother of the poor crippled child, “Have you seen a child the color of wheat, the color of gold…?” and she answers, of course, “Yes, he’s my child, my darling, my own.” In the eyes of every mother her child is the One.
I’ve lived without my traditions many years; my kids don’t even know the Christmas story because they are not being raised to know it. I’ve made that choice for them, but as I get older, I miss some of that stuff. I miss it.