I awoke this morning to the news that the Washington National Opera was leaving The Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts in Washington, D.C. after 70 years. The end of an era in so many ways.
For me, the news evoked strong feels of nostalgia. One of my fondest memories with my father was attending my first opera there back in the early 1980s when he took me to see The Daughter of the Regiment by Gaetano Donizetti. It was a night I will never forget. From the fancy dress I wore, to the second-row seats to my first taste of Champagne during intermission while standing on the terrace overlooking the city and the Potomac River, there were so many firsts. But perhaps the most memorable was transitioning from a young child to one on the precipice of adulthood while surrounded by the aura of the Kennedy Center and our country’s history.
Growing up, I wasn’t really into music, although I did play the clarinet through elementary and middle school (and still have that cherished instrument my father purchased for me). He was an opera buff and a serious one. He collected operas and had hundreds of albums and later CDs and DVDs, books, programs and knew many of them by heart. After he passed, I donated the collection to the College of Charleston so others could enjoy and learn from it. He regularly encouraged us (OK, sometimes forced) family to watch them on TV and video, and I gradually learned to appreciate and enjoy many.
He purchased season tickets to the WNO for years during our time in the DMV, and he and my mother went regularly. But one winter night she was unable to attend, so he took me on the 30-minute drive from our home in Maryland to the Kennedy Center. Our seats were so close to the stage I could feel the vibrations of the marching and dancing as they performed and admire their makeup and costume details.
During one march, the lead Marie stamped her foot and pounded her rifle onto the stage, and it unexpectedly broke in half. She startled for a quick second, but then laughed and picked up the pieces and kept singing and marching. I’m not sure why, but that incident truly impacted the perfectionist in me, and I think of it often. When something doesn’t go quite right, keep going and laugh it off. Not everything goes perfectly, and a sense of humor can make all the difference.
You never know when one average day will end up becoming a vivid memory for life, and my first experience at the Kennedy Center was just that. My father is no longer with me, but in my heart we will share that special night together forever.