TWIL: Music memory

I was getting ready for the opera yesterday when Gary came in to chat.

“WHAT OPERA ARE YOU GOING TO SEE TONIGHT?”

I said “Donnnnnn … something. Don Giovanni? No, Don Pasquale.”

“IS THAT ITALIAN? IS THAT MOZART? WHAT’S IT ABOUT?”

“I have no idea, Gary. I never know until Anne reads the program and lets me know when we get there.”

“ALEXA PLAY DON PASQUALE.”

“Nooooo, Gary, spoilers.”

(After a few false starts Alexa begins playing the overture to Don Pasquale.)

Gary said, “OHHH OF COURSE. I KNOW THIS. I LOVE THIS OPERA.”

Gary, as we know, hates it when I know something he doesn’t. Cooking, Series 7 answers, World War I history. The less he knows, the more he is compelled to position himself as the expert.

I said, “Don’t start with that. If I don’t know this opera, then you don’t know this op –“

I stopped because he was singing along to the music, and continued to sing every note for twelve straight minutes, only interrupting himself to say, “OH THIS IS THE PART WHERE IT STARTS OFF SOFT BUT GETS LOUDER AND LOUDER,” which it does.

Evidently he played it in orchestra in 1974, over fifty years ago. Just for one concert.

It did make me wonder if later in life he would have no idea who I am, but be able to play an imaginary trumpet along to an opera or West Side Story, and indeed he will, because this week I learned that one’s music memory is the last to go.