December
Descanso Gardens, December In 1956, in a white frame house in a small town in North Dakota surrounded by snowy plains, my family gathered around our new television. We were watching a presentation of Amahl and the Night Visitors on a December afternoon. I was 10. Mother was pregnant with a baby to be born in six weeks, my only brother. The Christmas tree was beginning to accumulate presents under it, cards were taped along the woodwork arches between the dining and living rooms, and there was at least one “manger scene” arrayed on a bookshelf. I was mesmerized by the deft staging of the opera, the gorgeous singing between mother and son, the easily understood story with its touches of dance and humor. Even my father, who normally disdained television, stood at the back of the room watching. Amahl became a Christmas tradition as I grew up. My music teacher in high school got the sheet music for some of the songs and we learned them in chorus. Recently, I looked for and found on YouTub...
