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Posted on 10/19/2012 6:13:46 PM PDT by AZamericonnie
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Good evening, Meeky...((HUGS))
We had a 2:20p appointment to check the healing of the gash on his head. Stitches came out Monday and the scab was removed. Rather unpleasant ordeal. I put some goopy stuff and a new bandaid on it each night. Follow up today....finally got home about 4:45p....continue what I’m doing til it is healed.
Glad you are able to get out and walk.
(GENTTLE HUG & CHASTE SMOOCH)
How ya been? Knee and spine getting better?
So sorry your Dad had to go through all this, but praise God he’s got an angel for a daughter!
xoxoxoxox,
Meeky
P.S. Tell him your friends here continue to pray for him and are thinking of him! :)
I wish you could send us the rain, too! It would be so helpful!
Walking is good! And it’s great that you are getting it done! Your hard work will pay off! :)
Good evening, Drumbo, and thanks for spinning tunes for the troops. ((HUGS))
From your mouth to God’s ears Luvy! Hee hee hee!
At least I can tell you and Ma that I need to wear a belt now with my jeans to keep the pants up! hee hee
Sergei Rachmaninov now took the title of “America’s most beloved composer”, a title he didn’t want under those circumstances. Gershwin’s death bothered him mightily. New York had lost its charm, and Sergei’s manic-depressive issues came to the fore once again as he realized that returning to Russia would never be an option. He needed a change of scenery, and Southern California beckoned. He unloaded the Locustwood mansion and bought a more modest house in Beverly Hills.
The news that Rachmaninov was in town got Hollywood into a tizzy. Had he been interested in writing movie soundtracks, we’d remember him in the same breath as Max Steiner, Franz Waxman, Bernard Hermann, Dmitri Tiomkin and John Williams. Sergei was still making most of his money on the concert circuit, and he didn’t feel the need to work in the film industry.
In 1938, the pianist Arthur Rubinstein, who had settled in Beverly Hills with his wife Nella and a passel of children, discovered that Rachmaninov and Stravinsky were his neighbors. His respect for Rachmaninov knew no bounds: “He had the secret of the golden, living tone which comes from the heart. I was always under the spell of his glorious and inimitable tone which could make me forget my uneasiness about his too rapidly fleeting fingers and his exaggerated rubatos. There was always the irresistible sensuous charm, not unlike Kreisler’s.” With hero worship like this, he just had to get these two great Russian composers to meet, and he invited both of them to dinner. A day later, he realized he had just possibly made a terrible mistake.
Sergei Rachmaninov and Igor Stravinsky were from two different generations, and their approaches to music were directly opposite. Sergei was the incurable romantic, happily locked in the 19th Century, and Igor was the wild child of modern music. Suppose they couldn’t stand each other? Rubinstein began to get cold feet.
On the day of the dinner, both men arrived at the house. Both were a bit cautious at first. Then Stravinsky tentatively broke the ice.
”Sergei Vassilievich, have you had difficulties collecting your royalties from the Bolsheviks? Say what you will about the tsar, at least his government paid promptly.”
Then Stravinsky saw that rare smile from Rachmaninov and heard that equally rare basso profundo belly laugh.
”Igor Fyodorovitch, those communist sons of bitches have been robbing me blind for the past twenty years!”
The two men became the best of friends.
In 1940, Sergei wrote his last piece. It got poor reviews and bombed, but has since earned its way into the repertory.
Rachmaninov: Symphonic Dances, Op. 45 (Gardner conducting the Orkest Radio Philharmonic)
There is biblical phrase about each man being granted “threescore and ten” years of life span, and in 1943, Sergei missed that by only four days. He had developed melanoma. His wife and family were told he was dying, but he wasn’t told. He worked almost to the end, and his last concert was in Knoxville where he played Chopin’s “Funeral March” Sonata. How fitting! Shortly before his death, Sergei officially became an American citizen. Better late than never, he no doubt thought. He wanted to be buried at the villa in Switzerland, but the war made that impossible, so he is buried in Valhalla, New York, not far from Ayn Rand, another Russian emigre who came to love America.
His records keep alive a piano tradition from the 19th Century that might have been lost. His pieces are all still in the repertory. The man lives on in his music.
Thanks...I’ll tell him.
*sigh*
Please forgive the typo..
I am having a lot of pain tonight, and the meds have made me loopy.
I’m sorry!
Early in 1939, "Alexander Nevskii" was shown over here in at least one movie house, the the Cameo Theater, near Times Square in New York City. This theater was known for showing Russian films.
Lots of good stuff, Maestro!
I had no idea that Gershwin died so young. He accomplished a lot in his little time on earth!
Woohoo...having to use a belt is a GOOD thing! :)
It getting colder quick. 10 f now.
Sadly, since Igor Stravinsky died in 1971, the West has been without a major composer for the first time since the Renaissance.
Hiya Ms. B. old FRiend!
U B in pain I hear?
Not good! I still suffer with neuropathy in the legs. Not much seems to help me. :(
Wishing you well and a good nights (peaceful and pain-free) night!
Hugs,
Meeky
He was only 39. Had he lived, he would have influenced rock and roll.
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