Ocean Grove and the Great Auditorium

On Saturday, September 12, I declined a night of salsa dancing for an evening at the Great Auditorium in Ocean Grove to hear the NJ Opera perform Verdi's Requiem. This might seem like a rather unusual decision for someone who loves to dance, but the evening at OG seemed to be the hand of fate.

About a month ago, I drove to Ocean Grove for a day at the beach. Before setting up on the sand, I wandered around the town with my camera. I particularly wanted photos of the tent community and the Great Auditorium. When I got to the auditorium, the door was open and organ music filled the nearby green. I sat and listened, then picked up a flyer for the NJ Opera festival weekend, September 11-13. A young-ish man in shorts and a tee-shirt started to refill the flyers and after a few exchanges, introduced himself as Jason Tramm, conductor! He asked me if I wanted to see the inside of the auditorium, and of course I agreed.
A few days after that, I got an email from NJ Arts with an offer for two free tickets to Verdi's Requiem. I submitted my name and three days later was notified I had "won" two tickets. I declared "destiny", and marked my calendar.

In the introduction to the concert, the announcer told the audience that there were 150 chorus members that evening and 65 musicians in the orchestra. Joining that count were four soloists. As you might imagine, the sound was rich and captivating. However, I was completely transfixed on the speed at which each violinist moved the bow across the strings! The movement seemed faster than any I could recall and caused me once again to be amazed at the ability of human beings.

It was a great experience, though I'm eager for an opera with a story! :-)

P.S. In case you are wondering, there are 114 tents in the quaint, serene Methodist community surrounding the auditorium. There's a long wait to lease a tent, so best make other travel arrangements!

http://www.oceangrovenj.com/tour/auditorium_and_stuff.htm

What the Living Do

The poet, Marie Howe, has a book entitled What the Living Do. The title poem is about daily life, and written as if she is speaking to her brother, who died from AIDS. I reread this poem often, both for the beauty of the language and for the reminder of the struggles, monotony and glory of each day.

In mid-August, I attended a week long session of the Reading and Writing Project at Teacher's College at Columbia University. This "project" is under the direction of Lucy Calkins, a major researcher and educator in literacy for the last 30 years. Each of the five days began with a keynote speaker, with Lucy Calkins the first speaker. Toward the end of her talk, she quoted concluding lines from the above poem: "But there are moments...I'm gripped by a cherishing so deep..."

When I awoke on my birthday a couple of days ago, my first thought was the word "cherish". I don't think about that word, or write it, or even read it very often. In her poem, Marie Howe is cherishing her own life and the memory of her brother. Lucy Calkins urged the educators in the audience to cherish their own stories and the stories of their students. To cherish is "To hold or treat as dear; to care for tenderly; to nurture." 
 
Here's a bit more of Howe's poem:
"We want the spring to come and the winter to pass. We want whoever to call or not call, a letter, a kiss-- we want more and more and then more of it. But there are moments, walking, when I catch a glimpse of myself in the window glass, say, the window of the corner video store, and I'm gripped by a cherishing so deep for my own blowing hair, chapped face, and unbuttoned coat that I'm speechless: I am living, I remember you."

The Jersey Shore

Here's a quiz: On the Garden State Parkway, what do the following exits have in common: exit 117, 100B, 98, 89, 82? If you've lived in NJ for any length of time (or your whole life as I have), you know that these exits are all popular shore points. (See answers below.) Exit 89 leads to many beachside towns, including my most recent destination, Lavallette. My next door neighbor invited me to spend the day at her summer rental. With temperatures in the 90's and the promise of lots of girltalk, I gladly accepted.

Lavallette is mainly a beach town, with a small year round population of under 3,000 according to the 2000 census. There are small bungalow type homes that extend to the ocean and bay side from Rt. 35 when you first enter the town. Heading toward Ortley beach as well as along the oceanfront, homes are larger and sometimes quite stately. The town was named for US Navy Admiral Elie LaVallette who fought in the battle of Lake Champlain, and later was a commander of the USS Constitution. (http://www.lavallette.org/information.htm)

The rental at which I stayed was "beach-block" on Wentworth Avenue. Quickly after I arrived, we packed a cooler and headed up the street to the beach, where we found soft sand and warm ocean water. I quickly left all cares behind and relaxed into the rhythm of the waves. When we later returned to the house, I took time to look around. The house was bright and airy- three bedrooms and adequate indoor space for a group of people. The backyard was spacious and private with trees and a fence. Then there was that seductive outdoor shower. If you've never showered under the sky and trees, put it on your "bucket list" immediately. It's a true small pleasure. After dinner of crabcakes and salad (thank you, Liz), we took a walk. The nearby restaurants and ice cream stands were busy. We detoured to walk back home along the ocean, and were fine until winds and flying sand caused us to hurry home.

The next morning was sunny and I went for a run on the boardwalk with the dunes and ocean to my left and beautiful homes to my right. By 9 a.m. we were at the beach and shortly after that jumping waves! Then lunch and another outdoor shower. Before I got back on the Garden State Parkway to return home, I stopped at a farm stand around the corner and the Crab Shack on Mantoloking Road so I could bring home a bit of New Jersey summer. The two days I was there was a wonderful respite, and I'm making plans to return.

(Answers to quiz in order of exits: Sandy Hook National Recreation Area; Ocean Grove; Belmar/Spring Lake; Lavallette; Island Beach State Park)

Herons

With a clear blue sky and low humidity, I scrapped my plan to take a day off from running and at 7:15am headed outdoors. One of my running routes crosses through a park with a small pond where there are always ducks and geese. Often, I see a great white heron/egret, occasionally a black-crowned night heron. This morning, a great blue heron was at the water's edge. It's long neck was extended, and I believe it had one eye on me. Though I moved quietly, the heron crossed over to the other side of the pond. When another runner came along the path, the heron took off over the trees and out of sight. It's a grand sight to see a great blue heron fly. In size, it is approximately 5 pounds, but has a wingspan of six feet! On the Cornell Lab of Ornithology site listed below, you can hear the call of the great blue heron, an odd croaking sound.

I love to watch the movements of herons. They are completely still while "fishing". Their necks range from fully retracted, to a graceful "s", to complete extension parallel to the rest of their body. When they take off to fly, there is a "whoosh" and they are over the trees quickly. While the black-crowned night heron is the most widespread heron in the world, they are difficult to spot, especially since they are generally out at dusk blending in with the shadows.
The National Audobon Society chose the Great Egret in flight as its symbol in 1953. Part of the original mission of the Audobon Society was to prevent the killing of birds for their feathers. In the late 1890's, plumes were used to decorate the hair, hats and dresses of women. At that time, the American Ornithologist's Union estimated that five million birds were killed each year for fashion.

Of course, poets are interested in herons, too. Mary Oliver has a poem entitled "Egrets" in American Primitive and "Some Herons" in House of Light. A poem by Jane Hirshfield states, "I don't know about herons, their solitary habits..."
http://www.allaboutbirds.org/guide/Great_Blue_Heron/lifehistory

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Great_Egret

"The Time" - a poem by Naomi Shihab Nye

I read this poem shortly after my day on the river. While there is a brief mention of a river, the quote in the last stanza stayed in my mind. "It gets late so early."

THE TIME

Summer is the time to write, I tell myself this
in winter especially. Summer comes,
I want to tumble with the river
over rocks and mossy dams.

A fish drifting upside down.
Slow accordions sweeten the breeze.

The Sanitary Mattress Factory says,
"Sleep is Life."
Why do I think of forty ways to spend an afternoon?

Yesterday someone said, "It gets late so early."
I wrote it down. I was going to do something with it.
Maybe it is a title and this life is the poem.

From FUEL - by Naomi Shihab Nye