I am, among other things, “Charles in CenCA.” A few folk know or remember that despite being born in a laconic little town in the middle of California in 1951 I was raised in Oakland, California.
Yes, that OAKLAND. Oakland formed me, mothered me, made me, made me CATHOLIC. Oakland is, to me, the New Orleans of California minus Mardi Gras, the French Quarter, the mystique, a recent football championship, and natural and man-made disasters (unless murdering one’s neighbors is factored in.)
Wendy and I have the SAINTS/VIKINGS game on. We’ve only visited NOLA once, a month before Katrina. It was lovely, lovely like Jack London Square in Oakland only a whole city. A month later, NOLA was 9/11 all over again. But, like Pogo, it took a while to recognize that the aggravating enemy wasn’t trained terrorist pilots, but the enemy was “US.”
New Orleans has weighed upon my mind, and I suspect most of our minds, for these last five years. I’m happy for the Saints and the saints. I have wanted to return and take the trolley to Treme and the Ninth Ward. I don’t even know if the trolley goes there.
When AOZ posted that the Chant Intensive would be held in NOLA this January, I didn’t have a moment to share that info with my better half. We were in the midst of effecting the first Solemn Vespers (Sept.8, Nativity of the BVM) at our parish in at least 40 years. But, when I told Wendy tonight about the Intensive, she decided she had to attend. My beloved wife, lyric soprano who is gifted with a voice beyond measure, wants the torture (kidding) of the Turk for twelve hours a day in NEW ORLEANS! We’ll be there. I may be the director/composer of the family, but she is the voice and the accountant! She scored a 94 on an insane, one day Notary exam in the “state” that is known as California. This opera woman wants to freakin’ chant. Got it?
But I’ve done an intensive. I’ve jokingly, haltingly recalled it as akin to doing another Masters. It wasn’t easy for me. Fifty brains in the room, mine the smallest! But I have the “diploma” on my office wall, it meant that much to me. So, I’ll accompany my crusading wife, but I’ll go to New Orleans with another attitude. The first time was Pre-Katrina; second will be post-Katrina/BP.
There’s been a lot in the media five years after Katrina, and the summer of unending oil. I don’t know what to expect of me as I accompany my wife to NOLA this January. But I have to see and feel that what CMAA represents with the Intensive resonates in concert with our Matthew 25 mandatum.
There is little surety in this musing. But, there must be a tangible, visceral connection with G’s slogan, “Save the Liturgy, Save the world,” that is represented by the trials New Orleans has endured in this new century. And I hope to find it.
