When the delegation from Meredith arrived at the bus stop, we greeted them with big smiles and hugs. Among ourselves, we students have joked about slathering on the charm, but it’s impossible not to be charming to all the lovely ladies and gents that have come such a long way to get the Meredith-in-Sansepocro tradition off to a good start. In spite of a long flight, train ride, and bus trip, everyone was smiling and enthusiastic.
It was such a treat to see so many familiar faces…I’ve gotten to know everyone in the program really, really, really well, but there are, after all, only nine students. Dr. Goode brought me a wonderful set of letters from so many of my friends (THANK YOU, ladies) which made me happy and homesick at the same time.
Anyway, we whisked off their luggage and various other things they brought for us (everything from pencil sharpeners to Halloween decorations to two hammocks for our architects…one of those was my job). After helping everyone get settled, I secluded myself in the practice room for some musical cramming before everyone congregated at the bus stop again. We went up to Montecasale, St. Francis’ favorite monastery. It’s up in the mountains, and is surrounded by dogs, cats, goats, gardens, and a marvelous view. The buildings themselves are small and earthy, and the friar’s cells are tiny and beyond spare. We saw where San Francesco himself slept: it’s all rocks, and not even flat ones.
In stark contrast to the plain, Spartan setting of the monastery, the surrounding mountains and view of the valley were simply spectacular. There is a delightful and thought-provoking statue of Francis outside. He’s sitting comfortably, gazing at the view, wrapped in a kind of happy loneliness.
I’ve never seen so appropriate a tribute. It was entirely free of the ever-present, uneasy irony of Assisi, of the bitter contrast between the Franciscan ideals of poverty and simplicity and the huge, ornate cathedral, unfortunately so symbolic of the worldly power of the Church. Sunday, the great and fateful day, arrived with surprisingly little pomp. It was a somewhat gray and quiet morning…the calm before the storm, one might say. After a bit of last minute cleaning, we went off to escort our guests to church. As I was anxious to appear competent and confident, it was a bit unfortunate that the service was not at the cathedral…and I only knew enough Italian to realize that the sign indicated that Mass was somewhere else. Fortunately, as it was San Francesco’s feast day, the natural place to look was the Chiesa di San Francesco. We were only a few minutes late, and enjoyed a glorious celebration of “the joy of contemplating the creation,” if my translation is correct. The choir, the lovely decoration and artwork in the church, and the poetic and passionate homily made for a happy experience. I was especially ecstatic because my Italian has improved enough that if I concentrated hard, I could figure out nearly half of what was said.
After church, I became acquainted with two wonderful Meredith alumnae. These adventuresome ladies graduated from Meredith in the mid-forties, and at the time were known as Double-Trouble. We sauntered down to lunch and had marvelous conversations about the music department at Meredith, the drastic regulation changes in the hand book, (Meredith students were allowed to go shopping on days other than Monday and to not wear stockings after Labor Day. Shocking, I know. What is this world coming to?) and the very first Cornhuskin’. I was shocked to find that neither of them have been to Cornhuskin’ (If you don’t know what I’m talking about, here’s the standard and much-hated-by-freshmen response: you just have to experience it!) since, and told them that they should go this year and cheer for the class of 2011.
After an extended, delicious, and very noisy lunch, we all headed back to the Palazzo Alberti for the official events of the day. There was something of a last minute scramble to insert some unexpected guests into the acknowledgments, some rehearsals of polite Italian phrases, and several deep breaths. Then everyone crowded into the stairwell to watch the ribbon-cutting (actually, more of a ribbon-trimming…Meredith is all about going green!) and the unveiling of the Meredith-in-Sansepolcro banner. I wish I could describe it, but I was off through the back door and up in the kitchen assembling plastic champagne flutes and slicing pastries before I had the chance to get a good look at it. Then I yanked off my apron, washed my hands, and began a marathon of elevator piano music, which was only interrupted by the drummers, trumpeters, and flag throwers from the Ballestra. These wonderful people quadrupled our pomp and circumstance in exchange for wine and snacks. I love Sansepolcro!
About half an hour before the open house was supposed to end (apparently it’s impolite to have an end time for Italian events, so it was only announced on the English half of the invitations), my wonderful classmates dragged me out of the chapel and proceeded to dress me up. I much enjoyed my borrowed feathers, as well as the pampering. All I can say is that it’s a wonderful thing to have one classmate who is a licensed massage therapist, one who cuts and styles hair and gives manicures of professional quality, one who is an expert on all things eyeshadow, and others who are more than willing to open their closets to a pianist who brought one dress, one necklace, and three pairs of shoes. It was slightly less wonderful to try and get dressed during an open house. When you say casa aperta to an Italian, that means that every square inch is open. We closed and locked the door and had several people rattle the door handle anyway.
After pampering, I ate a plate of leftover pasta in record time, dashed down to the church, and proceeded to try and keep my hands warm for an hour and a half. Classic case of "hurry up and wait." My maestro and I actually had a fun time, pacing around outside, nervously sharing funny stories, humming, and twiddling fingers and thumbs. After the choir finished, we played a “Mozart sandwich on Ravel bread.” Our duets (two selections from Ravel’s Ma Mère l'Oye and an early Mozart sonata)were lovely, and I made it through my Mozart Allegro assai (Sonata K 332) without any major mishaps. Fortunately, everyone had just eaten a delicious dinner and was feeling inclined to be generous with their applause. : )
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