I’m back in New York and in love with the City anew. Amanda took me in again, in all her generosity, and fed me zucchini fritters with yogurt sauce in her Brooklyn apartment this morning. It took me all morning to get situated, and to prepare for our gig on Saturday. Edna and I are heading to Boston for a fundraising concert for Hope Church, and inclusive Christian community in Jamaica Plains. It’s only my second time in Boston, the first time was to go whale watching during a high school summer internship. Of that experience I mostly remember puking for hours in the boat bathroom. I didn’t get to see any whales, so it can only get better from there.

I finally got out of the house at 1:30, heading to Manhattan. I had to mail some extra gear back to Portland (I guess I really didn’t need the sleeping bag after all) so I made a stop at the post office at Columbus Circle. I had a great time there (NYC friends, I recommend it). The lady who helped me was very chatty in that New York way, which always feels like an interrogation at first. She gave me free tape to do up my box because I didn’t scream at her impatiently. That’s one point for pleasantries. She asked me about Portland, saying that she was thinking of retiring there. She loves music and told me stories about her musical loves, including the Essence festival in New Orleans. She saw Prince play for three hours there and almost died from happiness. She’s planning to see Stevie Wonder next month in Philadelphia because it was cheaper than seeing him at Madison Square Garden. I told her about Portland but at the end of the conversation we both agreed that she’d be bored to tears there. She’s in love with the City the never sleeps and Portland likes it’s beauty rest.

I wandered up to Lincoln Center after that and was swept away in reverie. I had a ticket to attend a masters class at Juilliard but was early and decided to wander around. Lincoln Center is a collection of buildings housing some of New York’s most celebrated performing arts organizations including the Metropolitan Opera, New York City Ballet, New York Philharmonic, and Juilliard School itself. Many of the buildings surround a beautiful, white stone plaza that houses art installations, both temporary and permanent, and seating areas. To be in that space dedicated to the arts and the best and brightest artists among them was invigorating. The Center also houses the New York Library for the Performing Arts, a branch of the public library. They have one of the world’s largest collection of materials relating to the performing arts, according to Wikipedia. They also have a space dedicated to the history of Sesame Street and I spent some time meandering through my childhood nostalgia. It told the origin story of one of the most iconic of children’s shows, including life-sized versions of Baby Snuffleupagus, Big Bird, Elmo, and others. Sesame Street is a very New York creation, its set inspired by actual places in the city. As a kid I had no awareness of this, but getting to know the City as an adult puts the show in an entirely different context for me, a bridge spanning time and space.

I headed over to Juilliard to get a seat at the class. Tickets are free but must be ordered in advance. Apparently, they are sought after because it was sold out. I found a spot right in the middle, which was worth climbing over more than a dozen other folks. Traveling alone has it’s perks. I was surrounded by Juilliard students and arts connoisseurs, including the wealthy couple after whom the vocal arts department at the school is named. I felt so curious about the students, wondering what their dreams and passions were. When I was their age I never considered music as a career. I fantasized what life would have been like to go to Juilliard. I had a fleeting bout of jealousy until I realized that I have no regrets. In every moment there is the birth of a life, and the death of countless others.

The class featured Dutch soprano Elly Ameling. She is a well-regarded singer of art song, a classical type of vocal music. It was incredibly interesting to watch the three featured students and their interactions with her. All were so young, in their early twenties, and all of them took themselves so seriously. Elly was lively, quick-witted, and jovial, bringing a lightness to the whole process while still giving very detailed critique of the performances. Perhaps, at eighty, she has earned a certain levity about herself and the art.

All the students were very talented and had completely different personalities. The one who struck me most was the second to perform, perhaps because I identified with her. Elly’s main advice was to bring the sound out more because her voice had a muffled quality to it, like it was stuck in the back of her throat. My vocal teacher calls it putting the sound in your mask, meaning the front of the face around the nose and forehead where all the sinus cavities are. This makes the voice ring out with a rich and clear tone, but it’s not a commonsensical thing to do. The young woman’s voice was loud, but it was not in her mask, making it hard to understand her. The consonants got lost, and Elly pointed it out multiple times. But the young woman had such a hard time doing it, like she didn’t know how to bring herself forward and sing out. Perhaps, it felt too vulnerable for her, I thought. I remembered something I heard Sandra Cisneros say recently. She thought that women in their twenties, particularly women who are conventionally beautiful, have a very hard time finding a sense of themselves. Everyone wants to tell them what they should do and who they should be. Maybe Elly also knew something of this because she told the young woman that she had also had similar problems in her youth and that it would change with time. I felt for her and wished her well on her journey to discover her voice and herself.