We are a commune of inquiring, skeptical, politically centrist, capitalist, anglophile, traditionalist New England Yankee humans, humanoids, and animals with many interests beyond and above politics. Each of us has had a high-school education (or GED), but all had ADD so didn't pay attention very well, especially the dogs. Each one of us does "try my best to be just like I am," and none of us enjoys working for others, including for Maggie, from whom we receive neither a nickel nor a dime. Freedom from nags, cranks, government, do-gooders, control-freaks and idiots is all that we ask for.
That is of course, a too-skinny Callas, with her weakened and beaten-up voice at the end of her career - but who wants to judge Callas?
Having seen the rarely-performed 1917 comic opera Gianni Schicchi for the first time yesterday, I can finally put Mio babbino caro into full context. As the Bird Dog daughter said yesterday, "It's not even an aria. It's too short, and there is no refrain. It's just sung lines. Should be longer."
In the plot, Gianni (we call him "Johnny"), the crafty lawyer, manages to create a fake will for a wealthy Florentine family friend giving everything to himself, thus providing his daughter with a sufficent dowry to marry the aristocratic boy she loves. Gianni, in Dante's Inferno, can be found in the 9th circle of hell - yet there was redemption in love: her little song was what persuaded her dad cross the line. What dad could not be similarly moved?
Fragile, frenetic and beaten as she is in this film clip, Callas still sings movingly. As a former classical singer myself, I admire her courage and I adore this particular aria. Thank you so much for including it...