Happy Birthday Dmitri! We Love You


Our favorite person now has a lot in common with Mark Twain.  Maybe the comparison rather works.  There is something terribly important about the depth of humanity that resides deep within a person.  It is the heartache that molds us into the men and women God wants us to become.  Granted, many of us are a shattered wreck of what we once were when that molding is complete, but we make the best of times our of our worst of times and are also quite capable of making the worst of times out of our best of times.  Life is strange.  Quite often, we don’t realize those golden moments of happiness are quite fleeting and we aren’t wise enough to hold on to them for dear life.  I know I have not.

I have a tendency to cringe when I read the fan sites, what people post on various FB pages.  I don’t know how it makes our favorite feel.  Does he even bother with them?  I don’t know.  What I do know is he is a man struggling to survive.  Part of that survival involves changing the very way he is.  I suspect, if I were in his position, and someone told me I would never be able to write – again, I would almost lose my mind.  Writing is a part of me.  His voice is a part of him.

I don’t think the average opera fan realizes how delicate a voice is, especially that of a baritone.  There isn’t a long shelf life.  It is fragile.  The truly historic baritone voices have but a short span of perfection, then they start losing the quality.  Once that voice has been shattered, it is over, never to be the same, ever again.

Losing something so amazing would be a horrific experience.  But – unlike 99.99% of us who would give almost everything to know a brief moment on that stage, our baritone has known what it is to be the greatest.  It is something no one can take away from him.  Memories are a good thing, but so is the future.

We cannot look to the past, but to the future.  Our prayers and our love goes to a wonderful man who must, once again, find himself.  He needs to know our love for him him is not dependent on a voice, or a talent, but on the person he is.  It must hurt, horribly, but he is loved.  He is beloved.  There is a wonderful future awaiting him.  The Lord sustains.  I don’t understand how, but He does.

And dearest Florence, oh my gosh, what you have endured.  I see it in my friends who are going through what you are.  I’ve seen their fears and their heartache.  I’ve watched them struggle to stay strong and be everything to everyone.  I watched them shatter under the weight.  You have our prayers.  I’ve also watched them find strength and courage they never knew they had within themselves.

Please, don’t hide. You will find yourself, again.  My dear friend, you have so much to offer the world, so much to give.  Your smile lights up our lives.  We care for you – the whole person.  The voice is optional, very optional.  What matters is the man.