Yes, O.J. Simpson died. Once again, there's been a lot of words for and against Simpson. I'm sorry for his children. It's hard to lose a parent.
My mother suffered from COPD and emphysema. At one point her doctor said she wouldn't last through the weekend. She lived six years after that.
She was a huge opera fan. Growing up my mother would play a radio station that featured opera every Saturday. I wasn't a fan. I did like the music (I played some on the piano) but the singing bore a hole in my head.
Mom's big heartthrob was Plácido Domingo, a powerful tenor/baritone from Spain. Tall and handsome, my mother was like a teenager with a crush when he would sing.
I took her to New York City one year and we did a tour of the Metropolitan Opera. We hoofed through the scenic and carpentry shops, rehearsal rooms and dressing rooms. Just as we rounded a corner, my mother ran smack into Plácido Domingo. Into his chest! It startled both of them. Domingo almost 6 feet towered over my 5'2" mother. He politely apologized and spoke with her for a minute. I was a bit too starstruck to remember their exchange. Mom floated for the rest of the day.
I found out that Domingo was to open the season at the LA Opera on Oct. 7, 1986. I bought two seats for the opening at $100 each, a year before the production. I told my mom, "If you're still alive next year, I have great seats for us to see your heartthrob, in Otello." She was thrilled.
The year passed and my mom was still kicking so we dressed for a night at the opera. I dropped her off at the entrance and drove the car to the garage as valet service was practically the cost of another front row ticket.
Mom was full of excitement when I found her near the entrance. "You wouldn't believe the amount of fur-clad women all wearing their flashy jewels who paraded by me. What a show!"
It was opening night so the stream of VIPs was loaded with the mayor, other politicians, celebrities and opera lovers. I thought maybe her waiting for me was the best part of the evening for her.
The scenery for the opera was quite dark, difficult for my mother to see as she was pretty blind from macular degeneration of both retinas. Plus Domingo's makeup made him into a dark Moor. The story is that Otello was manipulated into believing his blonde wife was cheating on him, hence he kills her.
When Otello killed Desdemona, there was a sight lull and that's when my mom whispered (too loudly), "Just like OJ."
Laughter spread in the crowd sitting around us.
Out of the untethered mouths of old ladies!
Beverly Sills was also my mom's favorite operatic soprano. After reading one of Sill's books, Mom adopted Sills way of saying thank you. During an event, Sills was in a reception line and got bored (as told to me by my mother) and began dipping her head as she quickly mumbled, "F**** you very much. No one noticed what she had actually said, she did it so deftly.
During a trip to Hawaii with my mom and my daughter, we ordered breakfast at some restaurant. When the waitress took my mother's order, this little white-haired lady, dipped her head as she said, "F*** you very much."
Well, I caught it, my daughter caught it, but not the waitress, who said, "You're welcome!"
"Mother!"
"Grandma!"
What was a girl to do?…I cracked up, laughing at my crazy little mother. Thanks for the memories, O.J.
Lucy Llewellyn Byard is currently a columnist for the Record-Bee. To contact her, email lucywgtd@gmail.com
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