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Published in the Philadelphia Inquirer Annual Opera in the Park By Sidney B. Kurtz
Move aside you football tailgaters, you bear guzzlers and sports revelers, and make room for your Cooper River Park successors. They don't utilize vans or open-ended station wagons, charcoal of gas-fired grills - they're not needed. Once every summer (this year, it was last Saturday) the New York Metropolitan Opera sends it's premier tuxedoed and evening gowned operatic talents down Northeast corridor to Exit 4 of the New Jersey Turnpike, where they make a sharp right and head for North Park Drive in Pennsauken. It's Opera Night in the Park - music under the stars. The most sought-after spots are staked out early, about 5 o'clock. Eating begins at 6, and the curtain goes up at 8, just as the sun sets behind the trees. Using folding tables and blankets spread on the grass instead of tailgates, the audience Saturday laid out a banquet of mouth watering delicacies. (Sorry, no alcohol is permitted in the park, although a light breeze occasionally wafted the unmistakable odor of wine - apparently a bottle smuggled in by a diner who couldn't abide this special occasion with out a toast, regardless of the location.) By 7:30, the audience, full and emotionally expectant, settled down for the highlight of the evening - Puccini's La Boheme. Whereas football tailgaters may be forced to suffer through a less than satisfactory performance by their magnificent team, our opera aficionados had no need to be concerned about La Boheme as performed by the Met. With the stirring of voices of tenor Alfred Portilla as the love-stricken, starving artist, Rodolfo, and soprano Hei-Kyung Hong as doomed Mimi, accompanied by the Met Orchestra, the spectators, spread across acres of grass, were treated to the first-class dramatic representation they've come to expect from these seasoned professionals. With a full moon dominating the eastern sky and the brilliant Venus in the west, it was a made-to-order setting for a romantic opera. Thus, when someone remarked, "Aren't we lucky to be here?" it seemed very apropos. I wondered how far into space we must go to find beings (or creatures) as fortunate as we were to be sitting by a South Jersey river enjoying the finest operatic talents. Or are we, as some learned men and women believe, alone in this vast universe - the only planet with just the proper combination of necessary elements to sustain life as we know it? A frightening thought, to be sure. A lonely one, too, that should remind us of how unique, and precious we are, and how miraculous it is that we are alive at all. While we caught up in Puccini, somewhere lives were being snuffed out by any number and manner of violent acts committed by those members of unaware or uncaring of their special place in the universe. I caught a final glimpse of Venus before it dipped behind the backdrop. High above in the darkness, stars were beginning to twinkle, as if a switch had been flipped on. I could almost feel the earth turning and carrying us with it through space toward a new dawn. Time passes - day to day, week to week, year to year. Too quickly, too few operas. Will future generations of South Jerseyans come here to unfold their aluminum tables and spread their blankets as we did? Will they partake of similar refreshments? Will they return home humming the melodies they heard in the park? Or will they derive pleasure from moments such as this in ways still undreamed of? I leaned back and silently agreed with my companion - yes, we're fortunate to be here, with this audience of varied races, religions, colors, and heritages, all of us thoroughly enjoying Alfred Portilla, born in Mexico and Hei-Kyung Hong, a native of South Korea, as they held each other close and sang of their love in Puccini's La Boheme. I closed my eyes. It was indeed a wonderful night. Sidney B. Kurtz is the author of a family memoir, The Jewish Rectangle: An American Adventure. He lives in Pennsauken. |