Lust auf staying put.

Last night, our new chorus director asked all to stand up for 10 seconds in silence for Bernhard Werner, a singer who had recently died. Werner had begun his career in Pforzheim and had sung, subsequently, in Lucerne as well, from where our new chorus Director hails. I found it strange yet poignant that we all, collectively showed our respect for a singer’s passing. I didn’t know the man, but the faces of the others in the chorus, austere and pensive, showed that they meant what they were doing—silently, in their own way, paying tribute to a life devoted to his Art.

People, especially my family, ask me when I am coming back to America. They seem to think that Germany is a passing fancy of some kind, a place that cannot be considered, for an American, a final destination, but should be seen, rather, as some place in the middle of someone’s journey. But, I must admit, I was never very happy being an opera singer in America. I am sure this had to do with lack of success in other parts of my life. But, the lack of collective respect for what I do seemed to be some kind of invalidation there. Why would I think of going back to America? I don’t even really want to visit at this point. To an American, without even knowing my private finances, I will always be some kind of starving artist. Here, when people find out that I am an opera singer, their eyes light up. In America, my most typical response is “A what?” One man in America when finding out that I am an opera singer said “Oh, I didn’t think they had those anymore.”

Why would I go back to America? There is nothing for me there.

At every family gathering here, Chris’ family is just dying to hear me sing something..anything. And, they just love it. They all just cry and applaud like madmen when I’m done. When my parents were here, they didn’t ask me to sing for them once. They weren’t even interested.