But now, as the years go on, I love so much more about you.
I love how you treat your singing career (only 20 and already you actually have a career!), how professionally you practice all through the apartment and the halls and the elevator and the garage and out on the street, and how you focus so intensely on your studies and learning the librettos and understanding the characters, and how everyone important who ever rehearsed with you marveled at your work ethic, your dedication to craft, and how you always seem to be practicing your singing, even if it’s only in your head, imagining the music you will bring forth from your heart, and how you’re in never-ending pursuit of opportunity, of auditions and openings and opera companies and tours here and abroad, how your appetite for new prospects is insatiable, and how you’ve established and expanded a network of advocates for yourself, with so many mentors instructing you and steering you and encouraging you, Gary and Kathy and Michael, and how you keep improving as a singer, your range widening, your voice stronger and more supple, your storytelling more vivid; and how intently you listen to the singers you admire, the heroes you model yourself after, tuning in to other voices to sharpen your ears and give voice to your own soul, how you’re always educating yourself in the substance and style of it all, reading your issues of Opera News and catching the Met online, and how you hate to be interrupted as you’re singing and studying, how very viscerally you object to it, and how it’s all because you refuse to be satisfied with yourself and your performances until you’re perfect.
So there’s that, your singing and all, so much to love there, and love to pieces, too.
Did I say I was done yet?
Just a little more here, more about what I love most about you. I could go on and on, of course, but who would listen? So let me say this.
P.S. – Part 3 will appear tomorrow.