Monday Mimisms ~ Oh, To Be In Carolina Tonight

When I think of Carolina, I think....

- Basketball, Daddy, and Coach Dean Smith
- James Taylor - Don't miss the hair in the video below. My first cousin played guitar back in the day. Howling singing Taylor's songs was a favorite pastime.

- Franklin Street's social life

- Phallic symbols...did I say that? Oops. I mean the Morehead -Patterson Bell Tower show at left.
I really need to curb my imagination.

- And I think music and The North Carolina Summer Institute In Choral Art

For two glorious summers as a teenager I studied with internationally renowned conductor and artistic director, Dr. Lara Hoggard, at the University of Chapel Hill in North Carolina.....you know....home of that...uhh.....basketball team. I think they're playing some sort of game tonight. I heard that somewhere.

When I entered college to study music, I was privileged enough to do the soprano diva work, the opera scenes, performance-oriented classes as well as choral methods and education, but the summers I spent in Chapel Hill as a youth were crash courses in basic musicianship - and fun. We rehearsed nine hours a day and presented a concert and Talent Show at the end of the week. We were kids with a passion for music and a penchant for summer adventure on a college campus away from parents and teachers. I played the piano in the show, fell in love with the accompanist for choir (in hindsight, I think he was probably gay) and learned more about part-singing and harmony during those intense rehearsals than I even realized at the time. Dr. Hoggard knew how to inspire young musicians to think independently, out-of-the-box, atonally. He taught me to stretch my limits. He pushed me to believe in myself and during those summers I discovered my life's path. What a marvelous spirit of kindness he possessed and a love for his students. I found some old photos recently, the professional recording we made, and the repertoire. It's still relevant and of much higher quality than found in most schools today.I have such fond memories of those summers.

Let's forget that my roommate set the trashcan on fire in Granville Towers while illegally smoking, shall we?

My parents could not afford summer camp for me. It was my grandfather who saw to my music education, paying for piano lessons, buying a piano for my bedroom at home (I still have it) and Chapel Hill Music Institute.
I am forever in his debt.
(No. That is not my group above. I have my own picture and will share it when my scanner decides to cooperate....but you get my drift.)

But let's get back to the big game. It's on now.
I think I'll saunter on down to Franklin Street and find a corner table for two along with 50,000 others (I kid you not) who have gathered for the game tonight.
I hope nobody recognizes me as the Trashcan Arsonist accomplice of 1975.

Maybe I'd better wear a hat.

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