Since I retired, my life has been ALL about ME. Writing poetry and imbibing music fill me up. I take writing classes and workshops and am kinder to those people I feel are kinder to me. I haven’t worked much as a team player, and a bit of me misses pitching in. But, I was a greeter and handed out flyers for Music at St. Veronica’s three times this past season. I enjoyed exchanging smiles, and being surrounded by a group of music-loving neighbors.
Once I listened to a professional orchestra play Dvorak and Mendelssohn in the quiet and grandeur of a two-hundred year old sanctuary. It was what I needed. As Geoffrey Latham observed: Music is the vernacular of the human soul. Lucky lucky me.
I donated a few smiles and was transported centuries in time. Miraculously, each concert took place six blocks from my apartment. The orchestras exceeded expectations. Feverish applause signaled rapture!
But nothing lasts forever. This truism has been proven multifold in the West Village.
Our precious hospital is a memory. Our temporary concert hall—a stunning space in mint condition with superb acoustics—could become a permanent space for all sorts of cultural events. The church is solidly built. But sponsors are needed to fund the events.
It’s a sad hallmark of our neighborhood that money has been the obstacle to attaining several critical necessities—healthcare and soul-sustaining entertainment. The apathy dance is dizzying. What will we say goodbye to next? St. Veronica’s sponsors deserve HUGE accolades. But more West Villagers need to step up.
I attended my third pre-Thanksgiving concert at St. Veronica’s. It encapsulated the birth of folk music in Greece, with folk dancing and lush, ethereal vocals. A stunning culture sprung to life. I may have retired, but I continue craving knowledge and entertainment. They’re as vital as breathing. And what grander bastion for the arts than tradition-drenched West Village!
—Roberta Curley
