Kismet (![[info]](http://p-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} kismetrose) wrote,@ 2007-09-06 00:13:00 |
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Farewell, Mr. Pavarotti
I first discovered Luciano Pavarotti when I was about 10, during Christmastime. I was at my father's house as I was forced to be nearly every holiday due to custody arrangements and my mother's work schedule. I tended to feel like the outsider there, the only one with dark hair and eyes, the kid who lived in an apartment while my father bragged about his house. The holidays were usually a bittersweet experience, one minute excellent food, the next minute the torture of my father's outbursts. He was generally in better spirits during the holiday season but that didn't mean he stopped being an asshole completely. One Christmas, he started badmouthing my mother at the dinner table in front of all assembled. I told him it wasn't fair for him to talk about her when she wasn't there to say anything, and he told me to shut up. So I got up and when he called for me to sit back down, RIGHT NOW, I believe I told him to go to hell. If I didn't say those exact words, the sentiment was behind them.
Every holiday season during the day, while the adults were cooking and setting up the house, the television was on. Most of the time it was boring sports stuff playing to an empty room, but one holiday he had an operatic Christmas special on. It was an anomaly. I was fully prepared to pass on by when I was given pause by the most beautiful, sonorous voice curling out of the speaker and into my father's living room, of all places. I remember that voice made me stop in my tracks and just watch the program. I wasn't used to liking operatic singing. I wasn't used to being so affected by it. But for a time I forgot I was sitting in my father's house, which I thought I hated but I also loved, and I watched Luciano Pavarotti sing. And I paid special attention when they told me his name.
I never forgot him after that. I watched for him in the news. I listened to him some, too, though his voice could be like a rich dessert - too fine for gluttonous consumption. I don't know why, but I held a special place in my heart for him. When I heard he had cancer, I rooted for him. I was hoping he'd pull through and sing abroad again.
I suppose he'll sing forever now. The miracle of modern technology. Imagine, imagine if we had lost his voice with his body. How many voices have we lost till now?
Good night, Mr. Pavarotti. You made one girl's Christmas a happier time, and that's saying something.
I first discovered Luciano Pavarotti when I was about 10, during Christmastime. I was at my father's house as I was forced to be nearly every holiday due to custody arrangements and my mother's work schedule. I tended to feel like the outsider there, the only one with dark hair and eyes, the kid who lived in an apartment while my father bragged about his house. The holidays were usually a bittersweet experience, one minute excellent food, the next minute the torture of my father's outbursts. He was generally in better spirits during the holiday season but that didn't mean he stopped being an asshole completely. One Christmas, he started badmouthing my mother at the dinner table in front of all assembled. I told him it wasn't fair for him to talk about her when she wasn't there to say anything, and he told me to shut up. So I got up and when he called for me to sit back down, RIGHT NOW, I believe I told him to go to hell. If I didn't say those exact words, the sentiment was behind them.
Every holiday season during the day, while the adults were cooking and setting up the house, the television was on. Most of the time it was boring sports stuff playing to an empty room, but one holiday he had an operatic Christmas special on. It was an anomaly. I was fully prepared to pass on by when I was given pause by the most beautiful, sonorous voice curling out of the speaker and into my father's living room, of all places. I remember that voice made me stop in my tracks and just watch the program. I wasn't used to liking operatic singing. I wasn't used to being so affected by it. But for a time I forgot I was sitting in my father's house, which I thought I hated but I also loved, and I watched Luciano Pavarotti sing. And I paid special attention when they told me his name.
I never forgot him after that. I watched for him in the news. I listened to him some, too, though his voice could be like a rich dessert - too fine for gluttonous consumption. I don't know why, but I held a special place in my heart for him. When I heard he had cancer, I rooted for him. I was hoping he'd pull through and sing abroad again.
I suppose he'll sing forever now. The miracle of modern technology. Imagine, imagine if we had lost his voice with his body. How many voices have we lost till now?
Good night, Mr. Pavarotti. You made one girl's Christmas a happier time, and that's saying something.
