Stacy Horn

Everything felt vaguely familiar last night at the dress rehearsal for the concert tonight, but when they asked who had sung at Carnegie Hall before I didn’t raise my hand. Turns out, I have! While looking for the picture below, I saw that I had in 2015. I have only a slight memory of it and I can’t remember what I sang and with whom! God help me.

Even worse, I was looking for the picture below because one of the reasons I feel warmly about singing at Carnegie Hall is due to researching and writing about the 19th century conductor Frank Damrosch. Damrosch started a choir for lower income New Yorker’s called The People’s Choral Union. Then, because he wanted them to have the same opportunities wealthy members of choral societies had, he arranged for The People’s Choral Union to perform regularly at the then new Carnegie Hall.

Last night I was thinking the same thing, that it will be nice to sing there for that reason. And then to see that I already had sung at Carnegie Hall, that I’d already had that same feeling about singing where Damrosch (such a nice man) had conducted, AND that I’d posted about it all. Once again, TREMBLE young people.

After Frank Damrosch died, one of his students wrote, “the door to great things in music was not really opened for me until that year, when Frank Damrosch opened it wide for thousands, of which fortunately, I chanced to be one … Dr. Frank is our own hero. He was our friend.”

Here is a picture of The People’s Choral Union at Carnegie Hall.

I’m singing as part of a performance called “Gotham SINGS! Choral Festival and Ensemble Showcase.” Not a bad way to spend a Saturday.

I took this heading back to the subway to go home after rehearsal. My city is like a movie set, and quite gaudy, but since I don’t live in this part of town it’s fun to walk through from time to time. In the years I’ve lived here the signs for the Late Show set on the right have changed from “with Johnny Carson” to Jay Leno and now Stephen Colbert (who I adore). Except I can’t remember if it has always been in this spot. Because I’m old and that’s how it goes. TREMBLE young people. You’ll get here. If you’re lucky.

I just went through a tiny breast cancer scare. After my yearly mammogram I was called back for more images and possibly an ultrasound. I managed to calm myself down about it, and yesterday I went back and all is fine.

But what I realized is, one of these days bad news will come and there will be no hope of a reprieve. We’re all going to die one way or another. Eventually the news will be the worst you can get and there’s nothing that can be done to save you.

Thank god for denial. It works for me.

I took this while visiting Alexander Hamilton’s home, the Grange. It’s somewhere in the neighborhood, which of course looks nothing like it did when Hamilton lived there. (And, the house is not in its original location, but a few blocks away.)

It was barely snowing, but very hard to see. This was with the snow at my back. Facing into it I could only make my way by staring at the ground. I realize it’s much much worse elsewhere, and that seven people have died already.

I just need to curl up, and as it happens I have a ton of reading to do for this book proposal I’m working on. Plus, it’s wicked cold out there (TM people in Boston).

Bodhi is sure there is something in the humidifier that he wants. Every day he tried to knock it over (which he can do, but I’ve got blockers in place now).