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Myra tried to look through the stained glass window of the big downtown church. Strains of “Ode to Joy,” soaked through the beautiful colors in the glass. “Oh, love, it will be so wonderful, they will roll a red carpet out for us.” A slight Bavarian accent frequented her words, but only the breeze in the alley way greeted her speech.
“Mercy, aren’t you the darling one.” She placed a hand on a lamp post and swung around. “You sir are so tall and strong. Would you mind helping a lady across the avenue? Will you be in the orchestra?”
“Come on Myra, let’s go back to the park.” A uniformed police officer approached the ragged lady spinning on the light post.”
“Cool it love, it’s the cops.” Myra held tightly to the post.
“Let’s go Myra, I really don’t have time this evening for your nonsense, let’s go.”
“Do you hear love, the young man in uniform is proposing to whisk me away.” She stopped spinning and glared at the officer. “You sir, take the joy out of being alive, why don’t you go to the park and I will stay here and listen to the music.”
“Myra, I’ve had to continually run you away from this church, you worry the good people.”
The officer started pushing her cart toward the corner.
“Take your hands off of my property,” she screamed. “Gestapo!”
The officer parked the cart. “Hush, Myra, if I have call for a car you are going to spend the night in jail, now let’s get you away from the church and off to the park.”
Myra looked at the lamp post. “Do you hear? The uniformed gentleman has offered to take me to the park, you never did that.” Myra turned to the officer. “Very well, we shall be off; if you will just let me listen to the rest of this music they are rehearsing. I promise I won’t take a step toward the front of the church.”
The police officer shook his head. “Okay, but just a few minutes, we don’t want people seeing you here.”
“Listen, the tenor is about to sing.”
From cracked-open window a tenor’s voice was heard singing: “Joyously, / Through Heaven's glorious order…”
“Now the chorus.” Choral voices rang inside the church.
Myra began a low tone then burst into a soprano voice singing in German.
“Freude, schöner Götterfunken,
Tochter aus Elysium,
wir betreten feuertrunken,
Himmlische, dein Heiligtum!
Deine Zauber binden wieder,
was die Mode streng geteilt:
alle Menschen werden Brüder,
wo dein snafter Flügel weilt.”
The music came to a sudden and abrupt halt.
Myra took a deep breath. The officer quickly stepped up on the curb. “Come on Myra, your stage days are over. They will probably have us both arrested.”
Myra stumbled down to her shopping cart and bumped it off the curb.
A small man holding a baton rounded the corner of the church. “Wait, wait,” he cried.
“Oh, oh.” The officer stepped between Myra and the man with the baton.
“Please, I must speak to that voice,” the man pled, his eyes budging and tears running down his face.
“We’re just moving along sir, no need to get excited, I won’t let her bother y’all again.”
“No, no, please, she sings as one trained in German opera, please sir let me speak with her.”
“Listen, she’s a little off, you know touched, a street person.”
He shook the baton at the officer. “All the great artists were crazy.” The man peeked around at the grubby woman hiding behind the officer. “You sing for me yes? Where you sing before?”
“Neukoellner, sir.”
“Oh, my. Oh Praise God. My dear where have you been?”
“Here sir, I have no sponsor, my company was disbanded.”
“We will sponsor you.” The small man was shaking with joy. “Officer, take that cart to the back of the church, we will keep it safe, but she is coming inside to the chorus.”
“Yes, yes, oh joy.” The small man reached a hand to Myra.
A dirty hand extended around the officer grasped the hand of the small man. “Thank you sir this is the happiest day I have had since arriving here.”
Note: Many talented artists – music, dance, theatre, are being forced into the street by government cuts and uncultured opinions. It is said that in New York today, one could create an Opera company and orchestra from the homeless.
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