Late at night, Ed streams movies on YouTube or Netflix or Amazon, and watches till he falls asleep because we now have a 60 inch high def TV mounted on our bedroom wall. I have learned how to back out of the system (return return return arrow arrow arrow, yes to exit) after he falls asleep, but I have forgotten how to start it when he is not around.

Mostly I go along with whatever he wants to watch, but if it is a Western, I’ll get on my computer and do something else. There’s a limit to my patience for 40s oaters starring Randolph Scott. My computer is now in the bedroom on my new little computer desk with the book cubby I can’t use because Max and Ziggy have decided it belongs to them and take turns curled up in it. So I’ll be doing stuff on the computer and listening, but not looking. He says “You’re not watching.” I respond, “I grew up with radio – hearing is enough.” I don’t add I am considering ear plugs for these occasions.

He streams a wide range, not only old movies and TV series, but documentaries and the one we watched tonight was about Ukrainian Cossacks 400 years ago. Now here is the thing, the background music is Eastern European, very Russian and I was drawn back to my time in the choir of the Greek Orthodox Church I grew up in. We all know I am not a believer, but in those days I wasn’t full of questions. My experiences in the church remain with me because there is nothing more dramatic or involving than Eastern music and Gregorian chants. This is powerful music. I joined the choir for the music.



My mother was overjoyed. And then I came home with risqué jokes in Greek from my little choir buddies. The choir director was a woman, name forgotten, but her husband, was Vasily, a Russian. He was a tall, slender man with a voice straight out of the center of the earth. A basso profundo. When he sang, the very foundation resonated. There was a passage where his voice, like a deep bell, descended the scale in an obbligato that was amazing. He had, unfortunately, a penchant for the young ladies of the choir and used to grab at them now and then. Not me, because I wasn’t yet into my foxy period. Waifs weren’t his thing. I forgive him all, and just wish I could hear that voice again.

Sigh … xx, Teal