Photo taken by the author, Deeann D. Mathews, October 17, 2023
Now this one was a doozy, like autumn leaves blowing by the window ... this discovery threw me for 20 years of a loop, because at first it reminded me of love gone wrong ... the baritone who was my first great love sang this on is album, but in a later version with slightly changed words to make God the object of devotion called "Thanks be Thine," which still works because the poem Strauss used was originally called "Habe Dank" or "Have thanks." It was not a long stretch ... except that a miss is as good as a mile ... I soon enough learned that what men sing and how they really live can be two completely different things... so, hearing this tune again was not a pleasant experience at first ...
But then again, it was Karl Ridderbusch singing the original, so I settled myself back down ... you all know I find a sweet, deep bass voice hard to resist, for as it was, it had been a basso profundo military veteran, later in my 20s, who had taken he pieces of my broken heart and put them back together again, so ...
After that I decided to study this song ... my German is sufficient to know there are a lot of ideas in this song, in a short space ... there were wildly mixed opinions about it from the beginning ... according to Wikipedia, Strauss preferred writing for female voice and was supposed to dedicate the song set to his aunt, but needed to dedicate it to someone who would help him get it out and so ended up making his whole family mad by putting it out for tenor ... but here we are with bass Karl Ridderbusch, and I first heard a baritone singing it!
Then there is the text itself, and considering its early and later translations into English I realize why some commenters I read think the text is a terrible mess ... all over the place ... but then I realized amethyst, the stone my beloved music teacher gave me in one of our first lessons, is mentioned in the song ... my beloved Linda Anne Kotcher (1938-2015) gave me that stone and told me about it ... I was eleven then, and there is much that I had forgotten ... but upon looking it up, I found that it goes with purity and dedication, and also in not getting drunk. Ms. Kotcher chose that stone well for me ... she saw those qualities in my grandmother who approached her for lessons for me, and in my grandmother's "mini-me," the capacity for all that ... pure, sober dedication to art, and to God ... she had seen the latter in my grandmother and my parents, and realized I was tracking them at that early age as an artist.
So now, this song had my full attention, having taken me on a 31-year journey into the loves of my past. Out of respect for the composer (Habe Dank, Herr Strauss!) who preferred the female voice, I went and looked up the greatest soprano I could find on YouTube to ever sing this song, and indeed, Jessye Norman sang this song ...
... and as I was sitting there in wonderment at how bright and upbeat her interpretation is, the portal of imagination opened, and a certain admiring colleague of hers eased right on through and sat down, six-feet-forever-and-half with a face radiant with joy as he listened with me.
"Words fail me," the Ghost of Musical Greatness Past at last said in his unmistakably dark, deep voice, "that you are seriously studying those things that my colleagues left for you and learning from them as well -- words fail me to express my joy."
I turned Ms. Norman on again, and he sighed with happiness and smiled as we listened again.
"I sang with Frau Norman ... it was among the greatest honors of my career, each and every time ... I am glad you did not need to find a recording of me singing this and were content with the greatness of her and Herr Ridderbusch, also my admired peer. You continue to mature, Frau Mathews. There is room enough, and love enough, for all the music, all its devotees, and all its students."
"One of the things I admire still about you, Herr Kurt Möll," I said, "is that while still here on Earth [1938-2017], there was never the spirit of jealousy or envy about you regarding anyone else. One does not have to imagine you in Glory getting to that point -- you were already there, before I was even born. That encourages me to keep growing, because it is possible to be such a person, right here on this earth."
"Frau Mathews, I admire about you that you even choose your imaginary friends from the past carefully and consistently, and that while you are ruthless in rejecting bad models in both real and online life, you have nonetheless not thrown out all that you can learn from even bad models. Thus you have been graced to always be learning, Frau Mathews, and you honor that grace, consistently."
He looked and sounded the way his voice sounded in his recording of "An die Musik" ... sitting masterfully near the edge of being overjoyed, close enough to that edge to communicate his deep feelings, far enough away not to overwhelm his purpose.
"You have made so much progress this last week, Frau Mathews, and you do not even realize it ... my heart is so full ... but since my cherished colleagues have done the singing, let us walk and talk over the interpretation, and enjoy this lovely day!"
AUTUMN! For beauty in San Francisco, not even spring meets it, for it begins warm and golden and blue, the allergies and cold sea breeze and fog all past. Winter's best days are all like unto it -- sometimes, autumn-like weather reigns until spring, and no one complains!
"Even the evergreens," my companion said, "know their contribution!"
He snapped his fingers, and there we stood in Golden Gate Park, by the arbor through which we would pass to our autumn walk...
Photo taken by the author, Deeann D. Mathews, October 16, 2023
It was a remarkable day, quiet and gold and silver and blue -- such subtle sidelights of autumn ... of sunshine on early autumn gold, through a gap in the trees...
... and another ...
But we did not stay long in Golden Gate Park, for the vistas of that sky caused my companion to aim his feet upward ...
... and we were then on the climb to Yerba Buena Park, my "holy hill" and favorite regular place in the world!
Photo taken by the author, Deeann D. Mathews, October 16, 2023
Not much was said, it being sufficient that autumn declare the glory of its Creator for a while ... and, autumn being the time of autumn leaves and memories of love, my mind went back yet again to my great love who I perhaps would have gotten to know but for the baritone who broke my heart ... my beloved basso profundo sergeant, with whom I had learned to walk uphill, downhill, and miles through Golden Gate Park.
I thought of my darling sergeant because of how he fit in ... I had never thought about what direction I was going in, or what time of day, when walking with him ... as I had not thought about such things as a child with my father, or even when I worked nights and had to come home alone as a single young woman ... the thought had occurred to me at age 24 to be afraid, but then I had said to myself, "God the Father loves me, and will keep me -- as long as I am meant to have this job, He will keep me and guide me." Thus I had put an end to my fears.
At 42, walking solo in the big city, daily, the same thought guides me ... if I hear in the Spirit I am to go this way or NOT that way, I answer, and even this week, my life has literally been spared because of it. So: I have rarely felt alone, or felt afraid ... although I am now old enough to wish at times to be done with this world and be at home with the One Who loves me most, and also, because the love was true and deep, I am at times still hurt that my valiant basso and I could not be husband and wife.
But still ... though there is pain there, there also is still great love. He refused to go any further with me because he knew the age gap and complications from military exposure to toxins would become too much in time ... he said it would be unfair to me and any child we might have, and he was right. He loved me enough to let me, and us, go. This was the right decision, and true ... and so, a friendship remains ... around love, come to its proper place for us ... the valiant old veteran now is soldiering into advanced old age and doing all the service that still comes within his ability to do. We still commune around the goodness of God and the greatness of being stewards in His service ... and I still have his back on complex issues that are harder for church members and family members skilled differently than I am to manage.
That is why he and I could walk together ... and I was never any more afraid with my grand old soldier than I was with my own father, or in walking with God. This is why it took so long for me to even register a thought about which way I was walking with my present companion ... in the presence of love, there need be no concern, for true love cannot lead you wrong even though pain can be part of the process. Had I never loved my valiant old soldier, I could not have learned that love transcends earthly paths of possession even amidst men and women ... that it was far, far bigger than romance and sex ... that it indeed could conquer heartbreaks before and during and after ... and I was deeply grateful for all of that!
The Ghost of Musical Greatness Past quietly interpolated an English approach to the first verse of "Zueignung" -- and I say interpolated an approach because there are too many different translations and my looking at the German and the analogies around it means none of them quite fit, so, we will just put our spin on it, make it fit the music, and keep it moving!
"Yes, my dearest soul, how you know
Far from you, how deep my pain must go
Love must bring the heart such pangs --
Yet be thanked!"
"Habe Dank" -- have thanks ... passive voice construction without a subject, even worse in German than in English from an English-language perspective because anybody can fit in there, and so we have to listen to the entire song to figure it out and STILL ... this is why the poem is considered a mess and it only gets worse ... Herr Strauss seemed to have loved these kinds of poetic situations ... he also set "Der Einsame" and had some woman be the reason a man steps off into the black hole opening at his feet because her love was the only star in his sky ... late romanticism, and its collapse of heaven and earth into the affairs of the human soul, can be kind of rough ... but mentally, I just straightened all that out again, because one can be grateful from heaven to earth ... to people, and to the God Who gave the people to love and be loved.
My favorite musician, given to me through YouTube and through the portal of imagination, interrupted my thoughts with his gentle laughter, as I looked up to a stunning autumn vista from where we were on the hill ...
Photo taken by the author, Deeann D. Mathews, October 16, 2023
"Your mind, Frau Mathews ... you had me being laughed at this weekend ... it is a good thing heaven and earth are as far apart as they are, because the bass section I am in would have thundered your world quite out of existence laughing at me for your sake."
He grinned.
"Imagine Jerome Hines walking up on me just before warming up and saying, 'So, Kurt, I heard that there is a new pain reliever being used on Earth nowadays, and it will be marketed as KM ... stronger than all the over-the-counter medications and safer, and free ... someone we know down there has figured out playing your King Phillip on repeat on YouTube works for all types of pain relief!'
"Now, Jerome -- now HIS is a big bass voice! Everybody heard him and instantly said 'Only Frau Mathews!' and just fell out laughing! My friends have not been able to even look at me without chuckling new chords into existence for days!"
"Well, see, what had happened was," I said, and grinned as he broke out laughing at this modern meme of messed up explanations... I let him enjoy all of that before continuing!
"Literally, I could not remember that I was in such physical pain on top of the stress of having to get the business thing worked out while I was hearing your 'Sie hat mich nicht geliebt,'" I said. "Your voice literally knocked the edge off of all that pain, so I was able to stay relaxed and alert enough to get it all done. For being such a faithful steward of such a remarkable voice -- Habe Dank!"
He bowed, with a smile, as I gave him a standing ovation on the hill.
"Bitte schön, Frau Mathews," he purred.
"Mr. Hines sends his regards," he added after that, "and thanks you for being one of the few people who got as much or more from his written work as from his singing -- you read him up and down like you have studied me."
"I think of Mr. Hines when my voice is not where I want it to be and I still have to sing," I said, "and also when walking, because he wrote of how God leads and guides us daily and how he experienced that in his life, and will make the very best of whatever we in our imperfection faithfully yield to Him at His command. I do not always remember that it is Mr. Hines from whom I learned that, but tell him for me when you get back home, 'Habe Dank!'"
"I certainly will, Frau Mathews," my companion purred. "Speaking of giving thanks, that was no laughing matter after Sunday -- but first, Frau Mathews, to get from Sunday to Monday, let me tell you what I was impressed with while my ears were merrily ringing with Jerome, Martti [Talvela], and Vladimir [Pasjukov] laughing at me in three-part bass/oktavist harmony at me because of you -- you worked like the wise champion you have become, through a year thus far of loving and losing and letting go. You did as much as you could do every night, and then stopped and went to bed in peace, got up, took care of all other things without worry, went back to the task at hand, got through as much as you could, and then went to bed timely -- and every night, do you know what delighted us in your voice, passing us to go to that High Throne above all?"
I laughed.
"Why, it must have been 'Habe Dank' -- I thanked the Lord for guiding me to as far as I could go and what He would show me to do the next day, every night, and then thanked Him when it was all done per day -- until it was suddenly all done, and all there was left to say was 'Habe Dank' and go to bed!"
"And be ready to take that extra meeting on Monday," he said, "that meeting you did not want to take because you had not been given sufficient notice, but the Spirit said 'take it,' and you did, without quibbling, just as you are on this hill again without quibbling while other people might surely have been given what that meeting caused you to miss -- but about the meeting, and all that good news, what did you say when it was over?"
"Habe Dank!"
"And when you saw that massive tree branch that would have landed on you had you been an hour earlier as you had planned to your favorite high seat on the hill, what did you say?"
"Habe Dank!"
My photo of that particular spot did not come out well because of where the sun was, and I could not get around it at the time, but I found a good substitute from an earlier break that will help you understand what was sitting in the spot I would have been in...
Photo taken by the author, Deeann D. Mathews, October 16, 2023
"And as you learned the details of the matter, and then sat down to consider, and even called the person who called you to that meeting you had not wanted to attend because of the short notice -- what did you say to him, and both of you say to God?"
"Habe Dank! What else is there to have said?"
"The beautiful thing about you, Frau Mathews, is that you mean what you just said ... out of all the possible human communications that could have been made with you not getting your own way all weekend right up to that point, and then realizing you very well could have died Monday, the main thing that occurred to you was to thank God and let some people know you were thanking God for sparing you. After this year, when you have lost so much and been through so much ... and yet ... you were not done being checked on Monday ... but first, before that, we must go up a little higher ..."
"... and yet a little higher ... "
Photo taken by the author, Deeann D. Mathews, October 16, 2023
"Herr Möll ... I lived on Monday, but ... are we ... ?"
"I said a little higher," he said, with a laugh. "We are not even going to the top of the hill!"
"Just because I didn't have the usual reaction doesn't mean I wasn't just a bit rattled by Monday," I said, and he put his arm around me as I gratefully leaned into his strength.
"You are human, Frau Mathews," he said, "and you are allowed to be rattled."
He waited quite a long time before continuing, for there were complex bits to the song by Strauss and the story of my life ... and his.
"Herr Strauss took you on quite a journey Monday night, backward over events of the past 31 years, even to childhood ... to Frau Kotcher your piano teacher, and her gift to you of a raw amethyst she knocked over her personal block ... her chip off the old block, for her chip off her block."
I did not mean to burst into tears, but it happened quite suddenly, for he had put into words the thought of that honor to me from her. I became her most dedicated student, who brought comfort to her last years and last days ... her daughter through music ... how she had known I would be that from the beginning was perhaps only presaged by something she had told me early on:
"I will tell you like Bach's uncle told him: you must dedicate your gift to God, for it is too great to otherwise be safe."
Only much later did I came to understand how utterly terrible, and destructive, it would have been to have be the servant of evil, gifted, and what an everlasting honor it was to return myself to the One Who made me, for service. Ms. Kotcher told me right -- and lived to see me do just as she had said, to the last three days of her life. She taught me well ... to her, and to the God Who gave her to me and me to her, Habe Dank!
My companion held me fast, in silent support ... his respect for pain that should not be blunted but experienced and released was ideal.
"Habe Dank," I said to him when I had composed myself, and he improvised an ethereal handkerchief to hand me before continuing.
"There is an echo of that phrase -- Habe Dank -- all around your life, Frau Mathews, and it is beautiful. That echo at this time in your life called "Zueignung" to you, now, when you would see what few others might, for you studied as you always have ... as you saw in looking back at the Greco-Roman myth that informs so much of late romantic art, Amethyst resisted Dionysus -- she refused his advances and his powers of joy through wine. So, you saw that in that second verse of "Zueignung" what is only there for those who are devoted and dedicated to study ... the singer does his part of what is asked in the third verse of 'Lift Every Voice and Sing' -- actually, let's ask Frau Leontyne Price to sing it for us, since we are enjoying so many fine colleagues of mine!"
"How lovely, and how right," I said ... those singing 'Lift Every Voice and Sing' ask that they be kept true to God and their native land, 'lest our feet, stray from the places, our God, where we met Thee, lest our hearts, drunk with the wine of the world, we forget Thee!"
"Likewise one cannot get drunk in an amethyst cup, to follow the analogy from quite ancient European thought," my companion said. "So, for love, a man once free to do as he wishes finally chooses to lift up an amethyst cup and give up wild worldly pleasures, and the contents of that new cup are blessed by love -- that is the actual meaning of that second verse. The third verse follows: he, purged of all evil spirits -- and in English as well as in German, wine carries that double association with spirits -- at last comes blessed and holy to the heart of love, and gives thanks for the third and last time."
"Some of my African American elders would say here, 'Once for the Father, once for the Son, and once for the Holy Spirit'!" I said.
"And because you come from the side of accepting 'Lift Ev'ry Voice and Sing' completely -- because you are adding the traditional African American Christian view to the matter -- you have grasped something from that intersection that others are not prepared to see, Frau Mathews. Now, granted, in fairness, that might not have been quite what Strauss or Glim, the poet, meant, but your general idea about the song makes sense. You have allowed love to purge and purify you, to teach you, and instead of resisting in anger and pain and ego when things have not gone as you wished, you have said 'Habe Dank' to God and all involved, and walked on in holiness. That is why, now, this song has come to you, to help you understand your journey through love -- not to it, as though you must yet find it, but through it, for already, you have it."
I sat down on a log to take all that in ... I hadn't yet considered what I had considered ... and he sat by me and waited for me to catch up, for he was not finished.
"What most people fail to understand, Frau Mathews, is that they have not yet even made the beginning with love ... they never reach devotion and dedication, and so never reach even the real beginning -- but you have. In the culture you live in, it is hard to see that because there are so few measures of comparison ... you have just kept doing what you have been called to do ... and therefore have I, to help you understand, now come."
He bent down and picked up an acorn, small in his immense hand, and pointed out the cup.
"Hear me well, Frau Mathews, and understand. In your language, descendant of mine, Liebe und Leben -- love and life -- are different by two letters. Gut und Gott -- good and God -- are likewise different by no more than one letter, and in English there is a mere doubling of one letter. That closeness is no accident. There is eternal meaning in that for speakers of English and German to study and understand. It is difficult to speak with deep understanding about any of those four without reference to the others -- even the atheist must argue about why God does not belong in the conversation, and that need to argue is itself a concession to the fact that those four cannot be separated. That also tells you: all four are beyond the popular conception by a degree larger than this little acorn compared with my hand. That's a start, but ..."
He held the acorn up against the sky.
"That's not even enough, but now, we have a little idea," he said, with a smile.
"I'm listening, Herr Moll," I said.
"Now we could say that the acorn, as what it is, has its good time and space in life, made with love by God as all of nature is -- all four working, right here, as small as this acorn is, can be seen."
"Indeed," I said.
"But suppose the acorn decided -- suppose it had our free will -- that it no longer wanted to just be a squirrel's good meal or the next oak tree, but instead to float on the air and flit around like a cloud in the sky?"
"It was not made for that, and would be greatly disappointed, for to the ground it must still go," I said.
"But if it could say 'Habe Dank' for what it is, and the wonders to which it was called, it could be happy," he said, and smiled.
"Ah," I said. "Shakespeare once had Hamlet say that he could be bounded in a nutshell and count himself the king of infinite space if he did not have bad dreams -- that is the same thing."
"Very good, Frau Mathews -- that is a good connection."
"I recognize I have the privilege to think along with a mind who had figured out that Wagner could have written dozens of operas had he a personal computer," I said. "That was quite the interview you gave in 1988, Herr Moll, so, I have to get my thinking way up to keep up, given that I was only seven then and have a ton of catching up to do."
He started.
"You went back and read all of that?"
"And I am looking for the radio recording."
He rolled laughing.
"Jerome said you were like this," he said. "You read every book that man has in the San Francisco Public Library ... your intellect is out looking for everybody in history of like mind and heart to connect with intellectually! I suppose you would notice a certain singer in 1988, thinking deeply of Wagner and bringing him together with his thoughts about the proper uses of personal computing, and think, 'Well, they said he sounded like a warm, friendly super-genius when he sang, and they were right! His mind is as lovely as his voice -- I can learn much from him'! But only you, Frau Mathews!"
He was gone in his merriment for several moments ... and I was reminded of how my still-beloved basso soldier still rejoiced over my intellect and many gifts ... he was the only man I had ever loved who had not been at all threatened by me, because he truly was able to love me ... he was mature enough, having truly sobered himself from the wine of the world and all its ego demands, so that he could ... and that is why "Zueignung" indeed described a beginning for love, not an end. Now it was coming clear... but there was still much more.
"Ah, it is a good thing I do not have ribs to break any more, because I would be in pain from all this laughter! Love and pain, joy and pangs -- there it is again, because we are limited in this realm -- but as your own elders would say, after while, Sister Mathews, when you have moved on up a little higher as Mahalia Jackson sings it, ah, then!"
I smiled in the sheer joy of anticipation, and then we just rejoiced for five good minutes as Ms. Jackson was piped straight down from up a little higher ... he put that acorn down for those minutes and we just stomped and clamped and put in harmony when we felt like it, in sheer joy ...
"I am only 42," I said, "but if it had been Monday that I had gone up that last stair, I would have had no regrets!"
"I know, Frau Mathews," my companion said, but gently touched my shoulder and pressed downward firmly. "This is not an easy world to live in, but you see by that great tree branch missing you by that hour: you are most certainly meant to keep living here, and because of that, our lesson is not finished."
"Consider again the acorn, if made willful, then unhappy if ungrateful in its proper sphere -- perfectly suited to its calling, and yet dooming itself to a life of unhappiness for a lack of gratitude. All the trouble in the world, Frau Mathews, can be described in this way. Pile on top of it this also: suppose the acorn were to say, 'I want only as much of the air as my cup can hold.'
"Oh, what a common tragedy indeed," I said. "We miss so much of love and life, and good and God, for just that kind of foolishness."
"They will not come down to our whims, will not obey our commands, and will not shrink to fit our pride and our fears -- thus can we also see the utter folly if the acorn were then to say, 'I will define and contain all there is of life and love and good for myself -- I will be the standard, and I will have control!"
I shook my head.
"That acorn would be done for," I said. "It can't hold all that."
He put the acorn down again so as not to actually destroy it -- for some oak tree or good squirrel's dinner it was yet to be -- but then closed his immense hand into its massive fist, and clenched it so hard it shook. That acorn and a whole lot of other things would have been crushed -- and in that fist, and then in his suddenly burning eyes, I saw the end of people, and families, and nations who dared, dared while no more significant than an acorn in strength and span by comparison with life and love and good and God, dared to live as though they might dictate to any of those four.
Then I remembered that Richard Strauss had lived and composed well into Kurt Moll's childhood ... he had survived Nazi Germany, used his influence to save Jewish relatives and friends, and condemned Nazism openly the moment it was safe to do so ... and then composed after it ... so as my life had been impacted at age 11 by my music teacher Ms. Kotcher, Herr Moll to age 11 still had Strauss, the last of the German romantic composers, still speaking out and still composing in his great old age, to light up both the best of Germany's past and the way to a brighter future ... that light that had always been there ... love, devotion, dedication, and gratitude.
I reached out and took my companion's hand in my two hands -- two hands not even close to large enough to enclose his fist, but the best I could do, for I knew what his eyes were seeing ... how Germany in his childhood had paid the cost of not learning what he wished to get across to me ... those memories that were the high cost for him to return to this realm ...
"Na klar, Herr Möll. Ich verstehen ihnen sehr gut. Ruhe dich aus, lieber Lehrer -- nur ruhe. Nur ruhe, und Habe Dank."
I let him know the lesson was clear, that I understood him very well, and that he, a beloved teacher to me, could rest ... only rest ... as he should, given that he was supposed to be resting in peace anyhow, not worried about anything going on with people like me ... but love will have you taking meetings that you would rather have missed, and going through things you would rather not, because of your love and thus your willingness to do what you have to do to benefit the beloved.
The least the beloved can do is reciprocate ... as he realized what I was doing, the pain eased from his face into a smile, his eyes softening from their burning into warm gratitude, and then he laughed gently as I sang to him that last line with which he ended Strauss's opera Die schweigsame Frau: "Nur ruhe ... nur ruhe ... nur ruhe... ah ... ah ... ah ..." note for note, just an octave higher than written. By the time I finished, he had completely relaxed, and sighed from relief and happiness.
"I see there is a contralto echo of a certain basso profundo around here," he said after a little "and as I have already said, it is lovely, Frau Mathews. You have quite a voice. Even for a contralto, that line is not the easiest bass part to match because of that low F, very low for a woman ... but that was very kind of you ... Habe Dank."
Again, he had come to the limit of his composure, but stopped short of crossing the line ... it had taken more of an effort that time ... to have seen what he had seen before the age of eight ... and to at some point have realized that he had lived to be a blessing to all that his voice could reach ... and to have accepted that and carried it out with such devotion and dedication ... as I squeezed his hand in mine, that was all that was beyond words in my gratitude for his example, and he put his other hand over both of mine.
"You have observed before, and yet again, that it is not easy for me to be again here, Frau Mathews, and always you have met that reality with kindness and understanding -- you are mirroring me, tracking my track as you did Frau Kotcher and your own beloved relatives. But that is also easy to do -- in my case, when you turn your computer off and think of anything else, I no longer exist to you. Loving the ghost in the machine is light work!
"Yet this is how I know that no lesson that love has given you has been wasted, Frau Mathews, for on that same Monday when you came home, you found out someone you need to get something done has fallen ill. It is the worst possible time. You have a book launch in two weeks. You said nothing about that. You did not say a word of reproach about 'But what about my this and that?' You loved that young woman -- you told her, 'Only Rest!' You are not only journeying through love, but love is journeying through you!
"That new warmup you composed for your choir -- because you thought of your students, and how hard Handel really is, and how you didn't want them to hurt their voices ... so you, going through all you are going through, asked Him Who has called you to give you what you needed to help those children ... because you love them. As a composer, Frau Mathews, love is journeying through you, and through your art. I have come to say this to you so you understand where you are, and why you were kept from death. Past our pride and fear getting in our way, provided we accept that love's pain is meant to purify us and prepare us for better in its service, provided we realize the great cause for gratitude love brings to us, there begin the great journeys, and once you know ... once you know ... ."
"Once you know, you live your whole life so that others might experience, know, and choose love as well," I said, "for what else is there to do, save for the necessity to resist the evil that denies all this, and to give thanks, all the way?"
"There is nothing else," he said in a voice meant to emphasize the point, "and you have been graced, Frau Mathews, to not be among those living for nothing."
Now that was a thought ... I had heard it before a different way: "For what does it profit a man to gain the whole world, and lose his soul? Or what shall a man give in exchange for his soul?" The answer to both: nothing. Quite a lot of nothing in the whole world, sought for self-aggrandizement, but still nothing.
"For many are called, but few are chosen" -- I had heard that before too ... but that had never been a question about being gifted in a way considered special in the world ... that had been a call to redemption to love and service, too. One does not need to be considered great in the eyes of the world to answer ... in fact, sometimes it is a hindrance to the answer because the more gifted, the more temptation to the ego in a world like this ... to "come down" to love and service as goals unto themselves ... but then when you realize: all else is nothing ...
I remembered also then the truth my companion had once rapturously sang ... the last of Brahms' Four Serious Songs, that great setting of I Corinthians 13, in which it is plainly said that whatever is done without love is worthless, and that when it all is said and done, faith, hope, and love will remain, and of those, the greatest is love.
This was a tremendous amount to sort out ... to know these things ... but to really know them, to set them in order ... not at all what I thought I would be thinking about when Karl Ridderbusch popped up on YouTube with a melody I never expected to hear again that reminded me of a love lost 20 years back and of an amethyst, 31 years back -- a love given by a teacher!
It helped to be quietly on descent ... he started up and we got moving at the sound of church bells heralding the hour growing late, although it was still a good bit of time before twilight ...
Photo taken by the author, Deeann D. Mathews, October 16, 2023
I also noticed that he had transformed into his robust appearance of about fifty, and we at last as we got down to level ground and the crowds of the city under the lovely clouds where my favorite hill met Golden Gate Park ...
Photo taken by the author, Deeann D. Mathews, October 16, 2023
... I noticed he had also swapped out his hiking poles for heavier-looking models. He was in Teutonic knight mode on the hike again, conducting fair maiden safely home in the early evening. His defense mode was subtle but utterly effective without the least hint of meanness ... his smile flashed out to every face that seemed to need it ... love was journeying through, brisk yet unhurried, blessing as it passed, but not to be hindered in its purpose. This was power, as few experience having it around or in them.
Yet I knew it ... it was easy to me to fall into step, so much so that we had time to enjoy some gallant torchbearers of summer, standing sweet golden guard ... brugmansia flowers huge and bright, still refusing to acknowledge the change in the calendar to autumn.
Photo taken by the author, Deeann D. Mathews, October 16, 2023
By this time, as the sun began to brush the clouds with a little of the colors of the brugmansia as it heralded its impending departure, the music of Strauss was again ringing in my head, past all pain of past memories of loss ... somewhere between the awestruck near-ecstasy of Herr Ridderbusch and the joyful exaltation of Ms. Norman in gratitude ... a verse of my own, modeled after the conversation of the day and what I had heard the baritone sing long before ... but now, matched note for note in contralto, an octave higher:
"Love and life, with all their treasures
From Thy hand, at Thy good pleasure!
Grace and mercy, joy divine --
Thanks be Thine!"
One would think the Ghost of Musical Greatness Past had heard Ms. Norman, it made him so happy -- his eyes shone and his face glowed with a light that rivaled the sunset, and his mouth opened ... but then he passed his hands again over mine and closed his mouth and shook his head with a smile for several seconds ... he would not lose control, and there was good reason.
"Your entire city would crumble if I sang out in my full immortal voice right now," he said softly. "That will never do, for it is your time, Frau Mathews, to use your voice, and your writing, and your art -- continue in all these, in your time, through love, and love through you!"
Even then ... so deep was his joy that the street quivered, and an earthquake would be reported ... every metal thing was buzzing, in tune ... so, he was even quieter at my doorstep ...
"We shall call this the Old Teacher's Addition," he boomed, and placed his hand on my shoulder and sang in a hushed voice that added sweetness to every evening bell that was ringing out the next hour:
"My time past, and reward ample,
Seeing you use my life's example!
Home I go, to in full voice cry
Thanks on high!"
(And, just in case you were curious, I went on and sung those two new verses, using opposite ends of my contralto voice:)
Only one thing was left to say.
"Habe Dank, Herr Möll!"
"Habe Dank, Frau Mathews!"
And off he went, round the corner and with one great step up toward home -- and, at the instant he made it across he must have sang out, for the sky colored up with gratitude and joy to even faintly hear it as I stood in tears, my heart overflowing also with gratitude and joy.
Photo taken by the author, Deeann D. Mathews, January 4, 2021
