Tag: news

The Arc and The Arch: Part One

The arc of life in my sixties–its highs and lows–has proved mostly to be an unexpected artistic one. Yet it is an uneven tapestry of co-existing emotions: fear for our eroding democracy; love for new and old friends; and boundless gratitude currently after returning to St. Louis for my Affton High School Class of ’75 reunion and reconciling my midwestern roots with my southwestern reality.

***

A trip to St. Louis would not be complete without a visit to my parents’ graves at Jefferson Barracks National Cemetery. So, we began there.

On Friday, September 19, Tom and I stopped at Dierberg’s in Creve Coeur near our hotel to buy a handful of burnt orange carnations.

Twenty minutes later, we arrived in the sea of marble stones on rolling hills ten miles south of downtown St. Louis.

We parked our rented Mazda SUV and tiptoed past a veteran’s funeral in progress under a makeshift canopy. A female vocalist sang Amazing Grace. Instantly, my tears began to flow.

Each time I go to Jefferson Barracks, it is a touchstone experience. Tapping one side of the stone and then the other. Remembering the love and best intentions of Helen and Walter Johnson–both long gone but not forgotten.

Minutes later, sitting on a nearby bench with Tom under the sturdy branches of an oak tree that has lost its earliest leaves due to an especially dry Missouri summer.

Friday afternoon was also somber and reflective. We met our friend Mark, a docent at St. Louis Kaplan Feldman Holocaust Museum, for a visit there.

He guided us through horrific-then-hopeful survivor stories, images, and vintage artifacts, curated from proud Jewish St. Louis residents who lived through the awful experience. Only a few remain, but their legacies live on.

All in all, it was a chilling, relevant, immersive few hours. Cautionary evidence of hate and authoritarian evil that inundated the world in the 1930s and 40s, and now–in the US in 2025–threatens the existence of those who are not straight, Christian white men.

After deep breaths and a refreshing Friday nap in our hotel, Tom and I drove to University City for an evening with Mark and his husband David at their home. It was a celebration of our unfolding friendship.

At sunset, they lit candles and recited Shabbat blessings before we shared wine and bread. At their table, I felt our bond of friendship, which began just a few years ago, grow.

We met Mark and David when–as snowbirds living part-time in Arizona–they first attended one of Tom’s free film screenings at the Scottsdale Public Library.

Now, they have become the newest, welcoming community component of our St. Louis connection.

Laid to Rest

My mother was a collector of fine furniture, ceramic pitchers, and–occasionally–commemorative coins.

On March 17, 1977, she purchased this Franklin Mint medal. It celebrates the inauguration of Jimmy Carter, the thirty-ninth President of the United States.

This bronze coin has occupied a space inside a box in my father’s WWII army trunk for the past few decades.

I was nineteen and a first-time voter when I cast my ballot for Carter in November 1976.

Most of my college friends at the University of Missouri were Gerald Ford supporters.

I suppose they were willing to forgive him for pardoning Richard Nixon.

I wasn’t. I opted for Carter, the peanut farmer from Plains, Georgia.

As history would have it, Carter’s four years as president (1977 to 1981) included many ups and downs.

For instance, Carter successfully negotiated the Camp David Accords, political agreements signed by then Egyptian president Anwar Sadat and Israeli prime minister Menachem Begin.

Carter also signed into law bills that created the U.S. Department of Energy and Department of Education.

However, the Iran hostage crisis (when fifty-three U.S. diplomats and citizens were held hostage at the U.S. embassy in Tehran by a group of Iranian college students who supported the Iranian Revolution) and related oil crisis led to his unraveling popularity.

In November 1980, Ronald Reagan defeated Jimmy Carter. His loss was punctuated on January 20, 1981, when the hostages were released on the first day of Reagan’s presidency.

Of course, we now know Jimmy Carter wasn’t through yet. He lived another forty-three years and made good use of his century-long (1924-2024) life.

After leaving the White House–with his wife and life partner Rosalynn Carter ever by his side–he established the Carter Center. He worked tirelessly to promote and expand human rights.

That led him to receive the Nobel Peace Prize in 2002.

Jimmy and Rosalynn Carter also became famous for the houses they helped build for Habitat for Humanity and the faithful lives they shared with family and friends in their community and all around the world.

***

This morning, after watching C-SPAN coverage of Jimmy Carter’s funeral at the National Cathedral in Washington, D.C.–and listening to a parade of praise in eulogies given by past Republican and Democratic leaders and grieving family members–I extricated the bronze medallion.

I brought it into the light. I placed it on the shelf of our bureau in our Arizona sunroom. I pondered Jimmy Carter’s astounding legacy of faith, hope, service, and perseverance.

I wondered if–as he was laid to rest–our nation’s democracy might not be far behind.

I hate the trite phrase “only time will tell.” But it certainly applies as inauguration day–January 20, 2025–approaches.

Consider this. Tucked inside the box that normally houses the Carter medallion is a little booklet with information about the tradition of the presidential inaugural medals. Here is an excerpt:

“The Official 1977 Inaugural Medal commemorates the solemn ritual, repeated every four years, through which Americans and their President refresh the nation’s commitment to free government.

During the inauguration, the President, in the presence of Congress, pledges to serve faithfully and to uphold the Constitution to the best of his ability.

Americans have always treated this ceremony as a portentous moment in the life of the republic, a time of celebration and of renewed dedication.”

But we live in 2025. Will the incoming president uphold the Constitution to the best of his ability?

That bit of history–beyond the funereal pageantry of today–has yet to be written.

In Summer’s Flurry

In summer’s flurry of joyful singing, record-breaking heat, Covid resurgence, political revelations, and Olympics coverage, June is gone. July is close behind.

Until now, my Covid recovery, birthday revelry, and travels to and from Minneapolis for the 2024 GALA Festival prevented me from posting highlights from Encore, our Phoenix Gay Men’s Chorus concert in late June.

Suffice it to say Encore was a musical review of favorite chorus moments and tunes (A Million Dreams, Some Nights, What Was I Made For?, Bridge Over Troubled Water, Proud, I’m Still Standing, For Me and ten more.)

Beyond that, it was also a reflective celebration of Marc Gaston’s twenty-two years as our artistic director–laced with storytelling vignettes (I wrote), LGBTQ anthems, and dazzling dance routines.

As a singer and one of several storytellers, I couldn’t be prouder of the program we created and performed for three exuberant audiences at Tempe Center for the Arts.

I will leave you with a snippet of dialogue … along with four images from the concert … that represents the joy, energy, rainbow colors, and love, which reverberated in the room away from the summer heat.

“When I sing with this chorus–these amazing people–and I absorb all the music and camaraderie, it feels like the sky is the limit. It feels like I could rule the world.” Mark Johnson, Storyteller #1, in Encore.

I’m Still Standing

It may or may not surprise you to learn that I’m sipping hot herbal tea–lemon and ginger–as I write this.

Ordinarily, that would feel counterintuitive to surviving the summer desert heat. (We are expecting 115-degree temperatures in the Phoenix area again today.)

But I am determined to eradicate the nagging remnants of Covid congestion. Plenty of rest, fluids, hot tea, Sudafed, and throat lozenges are helping me slay this beast. (I am no longer Covid positive or contagious.)

I want to be clear-headed for my sixty-seventh birthday on July 6th. (Actually, it’s OUR sixty-seventh birthday. In a gift from the cosmos, Tom and I are exactly the same age. I’m no mathematician, but what are the odds of that?!)

We will celebrate by seeing a production of Fiddler on the Roof at the Phoenix Theater–it’s getting rave reviews–followed by dinner at a Phoenix restaurant.

Then, early next week, Tom and I will travel to Minneapolis for the quadrennial GALA choral festival. 7,000 LGBTQ singers (representing hundreds of choruses from the US and around the world) will be participating in this massive community choral event.

It will be more than five days of non-stop music, singing, listening, cheering, and applauding. It will be a giant uplifting and affirming dose of camaraderie, which all of us in the LGBTQ community–the entire world really–need right now.

If you aren’t familiar with GALA, it’s a phenomenal program–gay music camp, of sorts–which happens only once every four years. Of course, the 2020 program was Covid-cancelled.

Therefore, GALA 2016 in Denver was the most recent festival. I still have fond memories of standing on stage with my mates from the Windy City Gay Chorus.

We were asked to perform the song I Love You More from Tyler’s Suite at the closing ceremonies in front of 3,000 people. It is a positive moment seared in my memory … and it happened on my 59th birthday.

Evidently, the GALA 2024 organizers were able to repurpose countless stacks of 2020 lanyards, which someone must have purchased four years ago. Look closely, and you’ll understand what I mean.

Anyway, on Friday, July 12th, at 12:30 p.m. (Central Time) I will perform with my Phoenix Gay Men’s Chorus mates on the Minneapolis Convention Center auditorium stage.

We will sing six songs: Bridge Over Troubled Water, You Are Enough, Proud, For Me, I’m Still Standing, and Sing to the World Our Light.

For more information, go to http://www.galachoruses.org. If you love choral music, you can purchase a live stream pass for $35 and see any/all of the chorus performances you like.

Trust me. No matter where you live, the quality, scope, magnitude, magic, and healing power of the music at this exhibition will dazzle you.