Some Thoughts on Being Born February 29

One of my earliest memories is of my first birthday. I remember it with unusual clarity because I was four years old at the time. This year is a “Golden Birthday:” I will have my 12th birthday in 2012 but I was not born in 2000.

Leap year has been around since it was ordered by Ptolemy III in 238 B.C. because calculations for an accurate solar year were beginning to be determined. A solar year is 365 days, 5 hours, 49 minutes, and roughly 12 seconds. The figure is just short of 6 hours, and six times four is 24, which is the number of hours in a day—so if you add an extra day every four years (creating leap year) the calendar becomes fairly accurate.

But not accurate enough.

The calendar would run too fast if further modifications were not made. So every century year (like 1700, 1800, or 1900) does not have a leap year. But every fourth century year, like 1200 and 1600, there is a leap year. I had a birthday in 2000 and did not take it for granted--it was required to make our calendars reasonably accurate. I was born on a day that was an indefinitely extended truce between the cosmos and our need for a workable calendar.

What is it like to have a birthday on leap year?

It means that one pays attention to exceptions. It is also a four-year cycle that encodes part of my life with its meaning. I can flip through them as quickly as a mahjong player sorts tiles and remember where I was and who I spent time with on each of them. Since I have lived in so many places this has been of value.

Most people born on leap year have been rejected by computers at several points in their lives. Many have been asked to have drivers licenses renewed before February 29 of a year that only had 28 days in February, because the expiration was linked to a birthday without consideration of the uniqueness of their birthday. But before computerization it seemed less common to run into folks with a birthday on leap year. I once received a free cake simply by proving by birthday to a store owner. He never met someone who was born on such a strange day. I told him I planned it.

The composer Gioachino Rossini was born on leap year in 1792. He would have been 52 on his 12th birthday in 1844, and was long since retired. That is four years older than I am on my 12th birthday. Rossini was unlucky enough to have passed the threshold of 1800 and would therefore not have had his second birthday until he was 12 in the year 1804. But just a few birthdays later and he was already immortal; known forever as the composer of Tancredi and L'italiana in Algeri.

Leap year also figured in the plot of Gilbert and Sullivan’s comic opera “The Pirates of Penzance.” Frederic is required to be an apprentice until his 21st birthday. When he turns 21 and completes his apprenticeship he meets his lover Mable, but was then told by the pirates that since he was born on leap year he owed them another 63 years. If the pirates did not know about the century rule Frederic might have gotten out four years early.

Opera Theater of Connecticut Presents a Classic Barber

Laurentiu Rotaru (Dr. Bartolo) and Meredith Ziegler (Rosina) star
in Opera Theater of Connecticut’s performances of The Barber of Seville.
Photo by Alan Casavant.

Opera Theater of Connecticut, now in its 26th year, opened a run of four performances of The Barber of Seville in Andrews Memorial Theater on Main Street in Clinton Connecticut. General Director Kate Ford and Artistic Director Alan Mann presented a charming and very classical version of Rossini's influential masterpiece.

The opera was performed in English. English is much harder to sing than Italian because the vowels are seldom pure. Also, most singers have learned the Italian libretto, and nothing is harder than learning a new set of words to a song you already know.

Mann explained during his pre-event "Opera Talk" that until the mid 20th century that it was always standard practice to perform operatic comedies in the native language of the country in which it was performed, and he reminded us that even into the 20th century that the language opera was performed in was a complicated blend of traditions often independent of the language in which the opera was originally written.

Hearing The Barber of Seville in English allows one to immediately hear the influence this opera had on the operetta style, and Mann underlined this connection by incorporating complicated hand gestures, especially at the close of the first act.

Mann also projected supertitles. This allowed us to instantly frame long sentences and anticipate the precision with which the cast was able to articulate the text. It also allowed the wit, often created by the incredible speed of unfolding, to be very accessible to an American audience.

An emphasis on clarity of presentation extended into all details of this performance, which was remarkably free from the antics and shtick that are often find their way into performances of The Barber. This opera has a razor-sharp score and the personality of its characters is strong. This production allowed us an opportunity to hang out with these characters and get to understand them through the music itself, without distractions.

This cast was highly proficient. Tenor Matt Morgan was a colorful Count Almaviva, David Pershall was a crowd favorite as Figaro, and bass-baritone Laurentiu Rotaru brought many shades to the character of Dr. Bartolo.

But the star of the production was Meredith Ziegler as Rosina. The role of Rosina was intended to be performed by a mezzo, and the rich, warmness of sound that Ziegler produced was so much preferable to the sound of coloratura sopranos, who are often cast as Rosina.

Ziegler has golden instincts for comedy. She has a huge repertory of gestures and expressions and had the ability to direct attention within the ensemble in highly effective ways. Ziegler is the Lucille Ball of comic opera.

She sang "Contro un cor che accende amore," the act two "lesson aria" in Italian, and there was no substitute aria inserted into the lesson scene. This was a classic production in every detail.

The production was well received in Clinton and, as always with the Opera Theater of Connecticut, the place was packed. It was no simple matter to get to the Andrews Memorial Theater, because there was a torrential downpour of rain during the time most folks arrived. The railroad underpasses were closed because of flooding, and the event started about fifteen minutes late in order to accommodate delayed transportation. No problem. Mann kept us company, and the event was worth the wait.

Opera Theater of Connecticut will present The Barber of Seville in Andrews Memorial Hall in Clinton on Thursday, August 11 and Saturday, August 13 at 7:30 and Sunday, August 14 at 6:00. For additional information call 860-669-8999 or follow this link.

Back to School as Opera; a scene from Rossini

With a loud A-flat major chord that quickly becomes a german sixth, the music swings into C major. Rinaldo's friends have shown him his face reflected in a shield. He has spent so much time in the pleasure garden that he no longer recognizes himself. He is relaxed, wearing summer clothes, donning a hair wreath.

Like us, he has spent the summer away from University:



"What adornments are these," sings Lawrence Brownlee as Rinaldo [0:26], "what have I become?" His friends, Ubaldo and Carlo, have come to convince his to leave these illusions and re-enter his life as soldier on crusade.In one of the rare passages for three tenors in operatic literature, they all sing as Rinaldo warms in his realization.

Were there a fourth voice in this passage it would be mine. "Where did the paper for the photocopier end up?...My syllabus is almost finished." Perhaps, as a crusader, I have a more practical bent at this time of year.

In a magnificent vocal display, Brownlee takes the wreath from his head [5:10]. "I am still Rinaldo!" he sings [5:22].

We are all Rinaldo, still. And it is time to get back to school. Leave the pleasure garden. See you in class.