Stacy Horn

At the moment, Bleeck and I are on the couch, and that’s Finney in the kitchen. I’ve got the movie Truman on in the background, but I’m not really watching it (not a comment on the movie, which I enjoyed).

Finney’s got a look like, “Wo ho there, am I missing something? You don’t have food up there, do you?”

Bleeck has his perpetually confused look. It must be the semi-crossed eyes.

And my face is saying, “Should I have pizza for dinner or … pizza?”

I feel awful! I’m going to go curl up on the couch. Hopefully with a cat. So this is going to be a very short post. I strongly recommend reading this gut-wrenching description of what life is like for women in Delhi. Seriously, it’s not that long. Take the time to understand what life is like for people who live very far away.

I took this picture of Mayor Fiorello LaGuardia. Weirdly, I’d been at the Municipal Archives all morning, going through lists of his papers and correspondence and then on the way home I took a different route and came upon a statue of him. I took it as a sign.

Clearly he’s calling out to the Health Gods of the universe: Make Stacy better. NOW!

First, if you are not familiar with Eric Whitacre’s Virtual Choir, watch this. It’s a great talk and a moving introduction to a unique singing experience.

Whitacre recently launched a Kickstarter campaign for Virtual Choir 4 and he was tweeting up a storm about it the other night. I suspect he’s getting nervous that they aren’t gaining on that final amount just a little faster. The general wisdom is that there is often a last minute surge. I certainly plan to donate and haven’t gotten around to it yet, so I’m guessing there are lots of people like me.

I’ve spent the last two years studying the science of singing and all the physical and emotional benefits from a life that includes music, and I am not exaggerating when I say that given what I now know I consider singing almost as important as eating well, and as important as exercise except it’s fun.

I know a lot of people think they can’t sing but a lot of people are wrong. Also, for the record, I found a study that discovered that you get many of the benefits (if not all) even if you’re not particularly good at singing (or playing an instrument). I am firmly in that category and it doesn’t take away from my pleasure one bit.

The virtual choir is important because they are making it easier and easier to participate no matter where you are, and for those who want it, they are now going to offer a lot of instruction and guidance for singing better. So please consider donating and by all means, absolutely consider participating.

This is a picture I took of Eric Whitacre conducting his music at Lincoln Center last year.

I took the picture below yesterday morning while driving to New Jersey with some choral friends to sing at the memorial service for one of our members. His name was Greg Niclas and he died on Christmas morning after a brief and sudden illness. He was only 33. Greg sang at our holiday concert and he sang when we caroled in front of Grace Church on December 18th. Oh God, I just saw that he wrote this on his Facebook page that very night:

“I can proudly cross drunken caroling in the east village off of my bucket list. In related news i have no bucket list, but drunken caroling is super fun!!”

I’m sure that took place later in the evening! He also wrote this to our conductor after our last performances:

“I wanted to send a quick note to say that this concert was definitely at the top of my ‘most enjoyable singing experiences’. For me, music is more about the moments than the overall and this lineup contained so many beautiful instances in several different pieces. At two(!) points yesterday, I too got choked up and subsequently made minor flubs due to a loss of focus (apologies for that). The fact that it was still able to get to me during the final performance after we’ve been singing these pieces for months is basically why I enjoy singing in general, and the Choral Society specifically.”

A few weeks later I was singing and choking up at his memorial. I don’t have a lot to say about it. Death is bad. Death of young people (33 is young to me) and children is horrible. I’ve been at a lot of memorial services, who hasn’t once you get to a certain age, and the memorial services of young people are always the most packed. But of all the well-attended memorials I’ve gone to, aside from celebrities, the memorial for Greg beat them all. His friends and family filled every seat in a large church, they stood in every available inch in the aisles on either side of the pews, the lobby in front of the sanctuary, and finally the area in front of the church itself.

The stories they told about him, and the memorials I’ve read online, made it very clear why there were so many people there. He was an incredible, breathtaking human being and I offer my deepest condolences to all who knew him.

Not a good sign of the books-times. I worked here years ago, although it was a terrible experience. At the time the place was being run by this truly unpleasant, humorless person. It always felt to me like she was playing the part of a being a manager, from something she’d observed in a business school class perhaps, but she had no real talent for it. She’d assume this go-get-’em attitude except she was not encouraging or inspiring, she was petty and punishing, making otherwise passionate, engaged employees the least productive group I’ve ever seen.

All day long she’d have us move whole sections of books to one floor or another, or to one side of the room or another, always thinking she’d find the perfect arrangement, the one layout that would magically increase sales, and unfortunately this was the only play she had. She had no other ideas and did not welcome any of ours. The whole time I worked there I moved books up and down stairs and across the floor. Over and over and over. I wonder if customers picked up on the vibe-of-misery whenever they shopped there?

This is not a comment on Barnes & Noble, by the way. It was one brief period in one store which I am very sad to see go. Ha! You can see me taking the shot. I don’t always to remember to make sure I’m not in the reflection.