It’s May in Lexington.
It’s always a miracle. I wouldn’t miss it for the world…and never have.
It’s stupidly green. My lawn needs mowing every fifteen minutes. My trumpet vine hedge shouts “GREEN” to the sky and defies any attempt to pacify it. Every tree simultaneously erupts in a kind of chemical warfare, turning noses red, squeezing eyes shut, and sparking a drumroll of non-contagious, but orbit-achieving sneezes in most of the population.
We have this horse race nearby. Maybe you’ve heard of it. It’s cool – 143 years cool.
I’ve thrown my Frisbee in the infield. I’ve gotten muddy. I’ve spent eight hours at the racetrack one day and never glimpsed a horse. I sang a sad song and mysteriously cried, oblivious to the song’s original intent. It was real good time.
But after mowing the lawn and whacking on the trumpet and sneezing and avoiding mint juleps and weeping no more and the two minute frenetic bewilderment of a herd of beautiful animals I’ve never heard of stampeding to a measure of glory likely to be forgotten in a couple of weeks…what then?
Well, oddly enough, in Lexington we turn our attention to singing.
For the last quarter-century an unlikely event happens in Lexington; It’s a Grand Night for Singing. For six nights 80+ singers, dancers, and musicians perform fierce, powerful renditions of songs from Broadway and Hollywood, old and current. Thousands of people fill the seats to be moved by the singers of the nationally-recognized University of Kentucky Opera Theatre.
In the interest of full-disclosure, personal pride, and to keep this account going, I must fess up to having participated in this event a number of times, though frankly, the quality of the event left this hippie geezer in the dust years ago.
But there have been many moments to treasure.
The first time I did the show was in 1993. I was asked to sing “I’ve Grown Accustomed to Her Face” from My Fair Lady. I marched in front of the orchestra to the center of the stage and began by declaiming; “Damn! Damn! Damn! Damn! Damn!” At which point, a five-year-old girl in the audience chirped; “Damn!” The audience went quiet……yes, as a tomb. I turned to the general direction of the child, paused, and offered; “Everyone’s a critic.” It was probably the biggest ovation I’ve ever received.
When the show ended, the parents of the offending (?) child sought me out to apologize. I felt like I owed them money.
May in Lexington…Grand Night for Singing…miracles…I wouldn’t miss them for the world.