The other night, Deanna and I went to the Opera. I can't believe I'm telling anybody about this. A "friend" from school gave her tickets to see Carmen. Deanna was so excited. Secretly, I wanted the name and address of this "friend."

She sheepishly told me about said extravaganza, one night before we were supposed to go. I think she was afraid I might not want to go. Pffgh! What would make her think that?

I asked her if I had to wear a tux. She didn't know. We've never been to the Opera. We've only seen people of more means than our own attend the same in shows about it. They all dress in uncomfortable clothing. I really don't get it.

I did not have long to "look forward" to this precious little event. I went to bed, woke up, and it was tonight...ahhh!

I found out that when you tell other people you are taking your wife to the Opera, women think you must be pretty incredible. Men laugh at you.

I spent my work day trying to justify the idea of taking a perfectly good Friday night and spending it on such frivolity. Surely there was a "Law and Order" rerun on.

As a man, I thought, "Where is my backbone? I should have come up with some excuse!" As a husband, I thought, "Alright, she has put up with me for 24 years, I guess I can go to one Opera." I like thinking like a man more than thinking like a husband.

I did not wear a tux. I did wear everything but a tie. Deanna looked gorgeous! Wow! Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all!

We drove downtown to the Opera house. Tulsa has an Opera house? Yep.

We paid to park our car. From the $5.00 I had in my wallet, it cost me $3.00 to park. "I hope we don't have to pay for anything else," I muttered.

We got inside, and they were not seating yet. What in the world does that mean, "we're not seating yet?" Did the seats need cleaned and you waited until now to get it done?" I thought.

People were bumping into me. People who appeared to have a lot of money were bumping into me. Deanna had to go to the bathroom, and left me standing here alone, and I am about as comfortable here as I am in a scrapbooking store, and people are bumping into me. I hope they don't realize I only have $2.00 left, they will ask me not to touch them...oh that's right, they bumped me!

Finally the doors opened. We proceeded to our seats. Opera tickets are expensive. This money should go into the offering plate at church.

We walked and walked. How could this be so far? This building cannot be this big!

When we neared our seats we realized that we were "fortunate." Our seats were three rows from the front! Wow, her "friend" really spent a lot of money on these seats. I need to be a little more respectful.

I feared that when the "fat lady" sang, I was going to be able to see her sweat. I did not want to see her sweat. I hoped she did not make any sudden movements, cause I was within range.

Did you know that they sing all the way through Opera? Are you kidding me? They pretended to be in Spain, sang in French and I only understand English. Twice they stopped to talk, twice!?! Am I supposed to understand what is happening?

Part way through, I realized that they were adding English subtitles above the stage on the front wall at the top. Maybe that makes them "toptitles," I really don't know. What I do know is that I got a crook in my neck, I craned it up and to the left so I could read what I was seeing...oh wait, I wasn't seeing it, cause I was reading toptitles. I had to look too hard to be able to read. I had to make a choice, see or read?

I started bouncing my gaze, well my whole head, back and forth like I was at a ping pong tournament.

I don't think it is supposed to be this much work. I should get paid for this or something.

I grew up hearing Don Meredith (or somebody) say, "It ain't over 'til the fat lady sings." I proudly announced to Deanna at intermission, that we would know when it was over, cause the large woman who was in every scene but never sang a solo, I mean aria, was going to belt a final note or two (and then we could leave).

She tolerated my musing, but was not impressed.

The first half of this thing lasted two hours. Two hours! This was a marathon. I would never let any woman complain about the length of a football game again. They last three, and it looked like we were in for a good four hour examination. I wondered what was happening on Law and Order SVU.

C'mon fat lady, get up and sing to me!

Don really let me down. It was over, the star died a horrible death, people came and bowed, over and over and over, and no fat lady song. People were shouting BRAVO, BRAVO!!!(what did that tv network have to do with this show?) I was confused.

We turned to leave.

I guess the difference between a musical and an opera, is what language they sing it in. No. That doesn't work, cause "Phantom of the Opera" was in English, at least the movie was. That was set in France and they spoke English. At least I could figure out what was going on, I think.


Truly, we had a wonderful evening together. We enjoyed the Opera. We would go again.
I am thankful for these little blessings the Lord sends our way when we most need them. He is so faithful!

brent