With the arrival of fall, I am thinking of New York City Opera, where I sang for twenty-three seasons.

We’d be deep into performances right now; walking to the theatre in the dusk; passing theatre-goers dressed to the nines; putting on makeup at half-hour; laughing and carrying on in the dressing room.

It started with an audition in 1988 at the suggestion of a friend from Westminster Choir College. She was working for the opera’s guild, had heard the company was having auditions, and told me to call them. So I did.

The office said, sure, we’re having auditions.

Today is the last day.

I was in NJ and threw on a suit, grabbed my Nozze di Figaro score, drove to the train, got to the City, warmed up in a bathroom and sang for Joe Colaneri, Donald Hazzard—and a few days later, Beverly Sills.

Bam, Bam, Bam.

I was lucky.

All that stuff about having five to eight arias prepared?

I had two and only sang one.