I’ve told you how I’m battling the winter blues trying to finish a book. I’m hoping that a light bulb will go on in my head.
American inventor Thomas Edison said:”Genius is one percent inspiration and ninety-nine percent perspiration.” Maybe I need to use more deodorant to finish my book. My late grandfather Maestro Joseph Ferraro, a composer who in his early career was recruited from Italy to work as the First Viola player at the Metropolitan Opera, met Edison when the inventor made recordings of his music. In the 1920s and 1930s when classical music was in it’s heyday, my grandfather’s music topped the American musical charts. As a child he took me to musical soirees with the opera stars and conductors he knew in New York City. He would play the piano and tell me about the Golden Era of classical music. I think parents really need to encourage their children to listen to the stories grandparents have to tell. It’s such a link to the past. My grandfather said Edison was a pleasant, lovely man who personally came to record him and did everything himself. Grandpa said he thanked Edison for giving the world light remembering how as a young man growing up at The Royal Conservatory of Naples, Italy he struggled to compose at night holding a candle close to his ink and paper. He told me how exciting it was the night he saw the city of Naples light up as the street lamps suddenly illuminated. One night when my grandfather was performing at the Metropolitan Opera, the manager stopped the performance and announced that Edison had died. My grandfather said he was very touched when the manager shut off the chandeliers. My grandfather said a hush fell over the audience as people sat in the dark, as if no one was even breathing. My grandfather quoting the manager said: “This is the darkness that Edison moved us away from.” Ironically, this friend to the music community, would put most live orchestras out of business with his invention of the phonograph and records people listened to at home. Progress has a price.
Perhaps it’s time for me to follow Edison’s advice and sweat out writing my book. I’ve rewritten it dozens of times. I would hope that I am nearing a conclusion but “It ain’t over till the fat lady sings.” I have no idea who the fat lady was or what she was singing.
Some people think she was singing “America the Beautiful” at a baseball game. Others think she was an opera singer my grandfather might have coached. I’m thinking that she was singing the blues.