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The Coda |
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| It means “tail,” in Italian. The final, wind-up bit of a piece of music. Often loud and exciting, so as to finish with a bang. Mine, with apologies to Eliot, was more like a whimper. |
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On February 28, 2010, Anna Siciliano sent a kindly e-mail marking the end of our brief professional association—the coda to my coda, as it were: Hi Richard …Wow* that sounds wonderful. I so enjoyed working with you and wish you and your wonderful family all happiness and joy. Keep singing and writing down your stories. Thanks so much for the excel I love it.—AnnaShe’s Tanner Clinic’s voice therapist; we’d spent a couple of months trying to salvage the shreds of my singing voice, but she’d concluded that age had put my vocal cords on an unprescribed reducing diet, so that I was unlikely to get back to any useful degree the volume, pitch control, and tonal quality I’d seen diminish, of late. Not that it was world-beating, at its best. The “excel” she mentions was a little spreadsheet display I’d put together to keep track of my compliance with the vocal exercises she did prescribe: |
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Hers came in response to an earlier message in which I’d asserted, somewhat plaintively:Once upon a time, though untrained, I could indeed sing… *and attached this little recording, from our “Deb & Dad” collection (though originally from “Billings and Cooings”) |
| Sailor’s Prayer |
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Next medical event: 2010—“Health Insurance” horrors… |
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| Updated Jul 2020 | [2010p01.htm] | Page 510-01 |