Almost There

I have nothing better else to do for the next fifteen minutes. My train skipped over Homewood (or I did not hear them call for it) so now I'll be a little behind for the chorus rehearsal. Well, accidents do happen.

Many things are accidental. People can be accidental. Comedy can be accidental. Accidents are never preconceived– or else they would be called plan-cidents. Yes. I just made that up. Let the judgement flow.

This is day three of five during my stay in the Windy City. Chicago. The first time I visited this town was for a bummer opera audition. Outside was blistering cold and...well...windy. Ice crystals pelted the bare flesh of my face like fleas on a Collie. Sure, Giordano's pizza was tasty but I left lacking something indescribable. Perhaps the airport hotel greatly separated me from the action, or the bad audition, or that I felt completely isolated and ostracized for being a New Yorker (I am certain they can tell).

My experience here this time around has been exponentially improved. I should say that it has been more than that. Liberating. Awakening. Powerful. Heartwarming. Reminiscent. Affirmative.

I need to live in a city. Period. [Warning: this is going to be a reflective essay]. The times that I find myself in metropolitan areas are the times my ears perk, my eyes snap to attention and my soul screams at me. The nightlife, the arts and culture, the food...busy. I am a busy person. Not just in my calendar but in my own mind.

Always running. Running away from things. Running to things. Running for things. I will live in a city.

This year welcomed itself with the San Francisco trip (running). I saw Garrison Keillor's "A Prairie Home Companion" live for the first time. I went on the open mic/Pacific Ocean date with the Norwegian human geographer. I stayed in an international hostel in my own country and learned about Brazilian folk music...and Ghiardelli chocolate with a Finnish cynic. I was running away from Phoenix. Running away from Minneapolis. Running away to Utica. Other cities, I recognize. But San Francisco was exotic. Ambient. Extreme. Safe.

Much like I ran from Phoenix in May, soon I was running in Massachusetts – from Amherst to Boston. What another beautiful city. So much musical culture and European flare. Networking and dating possibilities. Unchained personal and professional release. Find other things, Eric. Find other ways.

On Monday I was invited by the First Presbyterian Church in Homewood IL to sing a holiday jazz concert and a Christmas Eve service, as well as direct a rehearsal with the Chancel choir. The worship ministry team was generous enough to buy my plane ticket so I could not refuse! Of course, as I write this, I'm sitting in an airport Chili's drinking an El Niño Margarita at 7:25 AM on Christmas morning. No- not the typical fare, but I'm not a child anymore I suppose. I would consider this to be the Lady Gaga Christmas. I am sure my family misses me as I miss them on any holiday I'm on the road. There are plenty of people, i.e. our servicemen and women who are not home, or sometimes not alive, to spend holidays with their beloved. AND my contributions to society fail in comparison to the sacrifice they make so I consider myself lucky.

Focus. Tequila

I neglected to mention that my longtime collaborator Jayson Keeton is the newly appointed music director for the church. To assume that my famed reputation as a singer/conductor attracted the likes of this affluent South Suburban Chicago church would be false and to try to imply that on my part would be bloated and artificial. Jayson and I worked on musical theatre projects together several years ago and have since remained close. He took a personal vacation to Arizona when I was performing George in Sondheim's Sunday in the Park with George. I owed it to him, willingly, to perform his Christmas Eve events. The timing was perfect, and the situation was just right.

And boy was it. Chicago is a lovely city; East Coast edge with a Mid-Western nicety. The last time was the first time- an audition round that fell bust and left me tasting like two week's past prime egg nog [today is Christmas, get it?]. Gross. Unwanted. Unncessary- Christmas will be over tomorrow and that audition was over before it began. So was Chicago. But this time it was different. I wanted Chicago because Chicago wanted me. And I embraced the experience with open, egg nog arms.

I, still running- ran from Amherst and from Rome, NY to find inspiration in Chicago. I kept telling Jayson, "you live in Chicago," because he actually does. Not in a neighbourhood outskirt but the real deal- across the street from the end of Grant Park. He with the help of the Wind could spit on the Sears tower...a thirty-five minute walk to the Magnificent Mile...the roar of the Bears crowd on a given Sunday [avoid movie reference]. His apartment building built televisions in the elevators...but who wants to watch news headlines when the view of the entire city awaits in a living room on the thirty-first floor? Extraordinary sight to see.

Night 1: Arrival and initial amazement. Chicago O'Hare was less crowded than normal. They also are fierce about people asking you for rides. Do-It-Yourself Messiah concert. Significance? I realized my desire to never be managed- always freelance. Way more freedom and my resume could look so different than the resumes of everyone else's resumes. The original Uno's - delicious (and so was the pizza...a middle-aged waitress found us fetching). Blizzard. Nearly getting mugged. The glory of shoe condoms. Introduction to Homewood.

Night 2: Day off. Recovering from gin blitz evening prior. The viewing of "A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte,"...my favourite painting inspired by my favourite theatrical work. Sondheim concerts and crying.

Night 3: SUPER fun holiday jazz concerts with half-way decent recordings made! You Tube viral video aspirations. More pizza. Terrific people of Homewood. The horrifying gasp when deep dish pizza was referenced during the show (a local pizza establishment is the Fraiser to Chicago's Ali). Reveling. Dreaming.

Night 4: Morning off. I don't remember what else happened. The afternoon was a lunch sponsored by Rehearsal and a bum train ride that floated me to the end of the train. More wonderful people of Homewood. Martinis at a piano bar. Captain Jack and his generous lunch at the Chicago University Club Cathedral Room (wow. just wow.) Meeting Jan and being introduced to the Apollo Chorus of Chicago (which my current teacher/boss recorded with not too long ago).

Night 5: Christmas Eve. LOTS of music. Best of Homewood. New shoes on the Mag Mile with a massive sale at Kenneth Cole. Snow. Beauty EVERYWHERE. Packing. White flags.

- I took a long Christmas nap -

Today is the day after Christmas. For Christmas seasons, it was one of the most fulfilled. For Christmas, it was mostly spent on the road and very short lived. However getting to see the new family dynamic woke me up significantly. What am I doing? Where am I going? Am I ready for very bold new directons?

Many people told me I shouldn't go to Toronto for New Year's Eve. But to not be in the United States to bring in 2011...to be amongst strangers from everywhere in the globe in 2011 I believe sets this year's precedent. My work will be the most creative, most healthy, most inspired - most global. I am ready to break chains and to spread music to every possible corner of the Earth - whether it be from centuries ago or my own. I allow nothing to stop me from the burst of musical, intellectual and emotional productivity 2010 blessed me with.

I book my hostel today.

Today is a long needed play-date with my sister.

There is no need to pretend to be a better man when you can demonstrate you've become one.

2010 was the year of Patrick Watson and Sara Watkins.