Coffee

The Phantom of the Opera; Original Cast Recording; Andrew Lloyd Weber, composer

A few days ago, my sister K. commented on how none of us three kids inherited our parents’ penchant for coffee. I’ve never tried a cup. D. might have; I don’t know. K. will drink a latte now and then, but that doesn’t really count, does it? I must have subconsciously chosen long ago to swear off hot drinks. I don’t even drink hot chocolate. If I partake of some soup out of a mug, I might slurp the dregs of some chicken broth. But my throat prefers cold liquids.

I don’t know the circumstances under which K. launched a love affair with “Phantom of the Opera” by Andrew Lloyd Weber, but launch she did. It might have been an infatuation with Michael Crawford. Perhaps the music touched her soul. Maybe the romantic story enchanted her. Possibly the notion that someone had staged this spectacle captured her imagination. Probably a little bit from all of them comes closest to the truth.

Anyway, she bought the original cast recording and had me listen to it. Mr. Lloyd Weber’s music mesmerized me more than any of the other aspects of this legendary extravaganza. So, once during a visit to her country cottage, I made a tape of her CD through which this music came to reside in my living iPod. The good Lord knows how many times I’ve received requests to play “All I Ask Of You” during the past twenty years.

When the tour of “Phantom of the Opera” came to the twin cities, K. obtained tickets for my sister D., my brother-in-law D. and herself. By all accounts, the show was a hit. I saw the show with some friends in Los Angeles in 1991. And while Mr. Crawford didn’t appear as the Phantom, Ms. Sara Brightman reprised her West End and Broadway role of Christine. Soon afterward, I purchased my own CD of the music from this wonderful, masterful show.

In 1993, K. came along with me on one of my trips through Europe when I chaperoned the young musicians in the band and chorus. Although London had successfully swept her off her feet, she really looked forward to a visit to Paris. Why? Some friends had told her that, though she didn’t drink coffee, she really had to try a French cappuccino while in Paris. When we had a little bit of free time after visiting the famous Opera, K. pointed out the little cappuccino shop across the Rue. So we hurried to the shop to place our order. We each got our own cappuccino. And while K. gracefully sipped her cappuccino like a seasoned sophisticate, I very clumsily burnt my tongue on mine.

I was frustrated, embarrassed and in pain, but in reverse order. I needed something to cool my tongue. RIGHT NOW!! A vender stood nearby who sold pop (soda) to clumsy first time American cappuccino drinkers who burned their tongues. I very quickly invested in one of his bottles of cold orange pop. It did the trick. I noticed, after the coolness began to mend both my tongue and ego, that my cold orange pop came from Fanta.

I like to tell people that I had Fanta at the Opera.

Credits: To Mr. Michael Crawford and Ms. Sarah Brightman, for their artful and spot-on performances in a show for the ages.