I met Jenny

A week ago on a Sunday evening, after visiting my husband in the hospital in Minneapolis where he is being treated for some complications following his recent cancer surgery, I drove over to the Danish American Center for a much needed, relaxing evening of music in their beautiful atrium.

Jenny Lind, 1849

It was there I met Jenny.

The Swedish Nightengale, Jenny Lind, was visiting Minneapolis all the way from Sweden in the year 1849.

This was expertly done through the beautiful soprano voice of Carolyn Pratt, Oberlin Convervatory-trained opera singer and performing soloist. Ms. Pratt convincingly assumed the role, dressed in a gown replicated to match the one in Jenny Lind's portrait which was exhibited on an antique easel and served as a backdrop. Accompanying her on the piano was Mary Goetz, a performing pianist.

It was nothing short of magnificent. The atrium was filled to overflowing. The sun shone through the atrium windows as if to shine a spotlight on Ms. Pratt as she sang as beautifully as we all imagined Jenny Lind herself sang. Pieces from Mendelssohn, Taubert, Schumann and Chopin were sung in Swedish. Between selections, Ms. Pratt spoke as Jenny, telling of her life, her studies in music, her travels, the stages she sang on and the audiences around the world.

Along the way, she met Hans Christian Andersen, and became good friends with him.  Andersen, however, thought of her as much more of a friend and wanted to marry her. In her mid-twenties, Jenny knew she was experiencing only the beginning of a budding career and preferred to continue with her dream of singing and performing. There was nothing quite like it, she said.



Carolyn Pratt, soprano soloist and Mary Goetz, pianist

Andersen wrote several fairy tales about his friend and love, Jenny. Among them is the delightful story, The Nightengale.

One of my favorite selections was the Norwegian Echo Song. Much requested by audiences all around the world, Ms. Lind; rather, Miss Pratt, does an echo with her voice, cupping her hands to shout out, tilting her head to softly echo back. I'd really never heard anything quite like it.

Following the concert, a Danish supper was served which was equally as wonderful as the concert had been.

All in all, more than than evening of enjoyment with beautiful soothing music, good food, and seeing my Danish American friends again, it was nourishment for my soul.

After several weeks of worry about my husband and his surgery, his re-hospitalizations, taking care of him at home and not seeing him recover as we'd hoped, the evening was a welcome respite and blessing to me.

The musical evening comes back to me at just the moment I need it and helps me remember the beauty in the world. My husband will recover from what they're calling "just a bump in the road" and the music will go on.

Up early

If you know me even a little, you know I am not an early riser. You may also know that it takes me a long time to be fully awake in the morning.

I may appear to be awake. I am out of bed, moving, sipping my coffee, walking and talking (well, if you call "mmmm," or grunting, talking). But that doesn't mean I am actually awake. I used to be able to be fully functional at work without being totally awake. Is it any wonder I truly adore retirement?

So now I will really confuse you: I actually love early mornings.

There is nothing better than arising and feeling ahead of the game. I almost feel like I'm cheating: up before I have to be, watching the dark become light, night become day.

When my children were small, the wee hours of the morning were my only precious, alone-moments. Preparing my coffee pot the night before, it would quietly perk as I donned a bathrobe and brushed my teeth. Then I would tiptoe into the living room for a bit of time to read or stitch in perfect quiet.

Sometimes I would sit at the kitchen table, careful not to let my chair make any noise as I scooted it up to the table. There I would write a letter, pay some bills, look through a photo album, or, more likely, make my list of things to do for the day. I could hear my children's quiet breathing in their nearby bedroom.

Today was one of those rare days when I was up and fully awake before daylight. I almost get a high from it.

This morning it was just Catrina, the cat, and me. I watched her stretch and look at me oddly as if I were infringing on her peaceful sleep. I opened my devotional meditation book, taking the time to not only read it but absorb its calming message of the wonders of nature.

I don't know how one changes their body clock. But if I could change it so an early rise was a daily occurrence, I surely would.

No matter what the day holds, I feel so much better prepared. It really makes for a great day.

Ah, sweet serenity.