Music

From Ben’s Journal

7 July

Saturday 09:00

I spent a very pleasant Friday evening with our cousin Valerie yesterday, at the Ravinia Music Center. The Chicago Symphony Orchestra entertained us with a selection of Baroque Music, featuring J.S. Bach’s Brandenburg Concerto Number Three, the B Minor Mass, and the Air on a G String.  They played Handel’s Water Music, selections from Vivaldi’s Gloria, and Con Alla Rustica in G, and additionally Pachelbel’s Toccata in C Minor for organ and Corelli’s Concerto Grossi

We had a delicious feast of a picnic on the North Lawn, courtesy The Park Market, and I say with much guilt that the two of us killed an entire bottle of sweet French Sauternes wine over the course of the evening. 

Next weekend, we had plans to see an off-Broadway production of “The Producers.” I was eagerly looking forward to it. Valerie and I had already made plans to attend a concert of Handel’s “Messiah” this Christmas.  Truly, we are kindred spirits.

I’m sorry that Ray was not joining us, but he declined.  Instead, he was playing poker with Jimmy Martino, “Big Ray” Baldassare, and Paul Cristofano. I must admit that the idea made me slightly nervous, but I needed to show Ray that I trusted him after his last disastrous poker night.  I needed to show that I truly had forgiven him.  It wasn’t easy. Ray must have realized this, as he called me on my cell phone near the end of “Spring” to check in with me.  I had the phone on vibrate only, and at intermission, I excused myself and returned the phone call.  It was good to hear his voice.  I hadn’t spoken to him today. He was still sleeping when I left this morning, and Valerie picked me up from the Consulate and we drove directly to Ravinia.  He sounded upbeat; he was winning.

Valerie had smiled at me with sympathetic eyes when I returned to our blanket.  Of course, I had told her what had happened between me and Ray last summer, as I told her everything.  Since we worked so near one another, we often got together for lunch.  It was good to have a confident. I had shared with her our coming together again; our marriage on the beach of Provincetown, as well as a few of the silly arguments we’ve had since then.  We had a huge argument last weekend over my going to Ecuador over Christmas and New Year’s with my friend Hugh. I told him on the way home from my triathlon, and we had it out in the car. He didn’t speak to me the rest of the weekend.  I finally had to call Mother to “referee” Sunday night, as Ray’s silence had erupted into rage once more. Mother took Ray for a drive.  They stayed out very late. Mother brought him back upstairs, and made the two of us come up with a compromise.  What we worked out was that I would take vacation all of Thanksgiving week to spend with Ray.  This pleased Ray immensely, and pleased me as well.  He almost shyly gave me a hug after Mother left.

Goodness knows, Ray Vecchio was not the easiest man to live with sometimes.  He had a tendency to be messy, and needed a little reminding occasionally that we clean as we go in our household.

Ray is not perfect.  He sometimes takes his teasing too far, for example, to the point of being insulting.  I’ve seen him do this with a number of people, notably Jack Huey and the late Louis Gardino.  He gets along fine with Thomas Dewey, but dislikes his partner Donald Pato.  I made the mistake of telling Ray that Pato was Spanish for ‘duck’ and the poor man had taken nothing but abuse from Ray.

And a few times, I will admit that even I have been rubbed the wrong way.    He likes to push people to their limits.

He often spends his allowance in wasteful ways, but he was sure to remind me that it was his allowance to do as he pleased, which was in fact the agreement that we made once I took over the family finances.  I couldn’t bite my tongue, however, when he came home from Armani Exchange with one $88 shirt. One shirt!  When I pointed out that we could have bought almost 9 shirts for that at the Thrift Store, he blew up at me. That was my fault; I knew he was irritable already, due to an extremely frustrating week at work.  I apologized later; if Ray wants to splurge on fine things, well, he deserved to. He works hard.

He’s not perfect, but I love him.

Sadly, Valerie has informed us that she is going to be out of town for several months.  As director of Acquisitions and Mergers for her company, extensive travel was occasionally requested of her.  She was going to spend the rest of the summer in Beijing, and would return to the States to spend the fall in Manhattan.  Her girlfriend Kit, however, was going to travel with her.  Kit was a freelance photographer, and therefore could make her work anywhere.  She was very excited about spending six weeks in China, and already had plans for the two of them to travel to Hong Kong, Korea, and the Philippines as well. 

Valerie and Kit would be in Manhattan right after Labor Day, and hoped to be home for Christmas.

I like Kit very much.  She has a great sense of adventure and a keen eye for beauty.  And I must say she is a handsome woman. 5’11” with blue eyes and long blonde hair, she has a classic Scandinavian beauty. The four of us went to dinner last weekend, and Ray stared at her the whole time.  She wore a very low-cut silk blouse and apparently no bra, being rather small up top. 

When the ladies left to go to the restroom, I sternly reminded him to keep his eyes up. “Sorry, Benny,” he had said, chagrinned. “I got caught in the headlights.” Later that night in bed, after Ray had fallen asleep, I briefly wondered about Ray and women- if there would come a time when Ray would want a woman again.  The idea made me intensely worried.  If Ray and I ever parted, although I don’t think that that will ever happen, I’m certain that I’d date men exclusively if I chose to date.  And I’m also certain Ray would go back to women.  Eventually, I fell asleep, after having convinced myself that I needn’t worry about something that would never happen. It was just silly, really.

15 July

Sunday 05:00

We attended a party at Francesco’s condo last night, arriving home just past midnight, which was extremely late for me. I fell asleep in the car on the way home.

It was rather a nice party, I thought, not that I was in the habit of attending parties. Francesca had begged me to bring my guitar and sing a few songs, which I was happy to do for her.  I had expanded my play list immensely these past few months. I had learned quite a few Bob Dylan songs, some Neil Young and Crazy Horse, Loggins and Messina, Eddie Rabbit, and Johnny Cash, Bob Seeger and James Taylor;

I tried to keep the selection upbeat. Our friend Bruno from the Y also joined me for a couple of songs.  Our rendition of “Keep on Rockin’ in the Free World” was not half bad, I must admit.

Many of Francesca’s young, giggly girlfriends were there, making amusement out of hitting on me.  Ray had to intercede more than once to “rescue” me, much to his annoyance.

Elaine was there.  I had not seen her in quite some time, I’m afraid. It seems as though life has been pulling us in opposite directions.  Elaine informed us that she and Ike were trying to have a baby, wonderful news indeed.  I wished her luck.

Valerie and Kit were also there, as well as Joey Paducci and his wife; I was surprised. I didn’t know Francesca knew Joey.  Turns out they had been on a couple of dates before Joey met Rita, something Ray failed to mention to me. 

Melissa MacGregor and Renfield Turnbull also put in appearance together, not something I was entirely comfortable with, mostly due to Turnbull’s presence.  It was odd to socialize with him, and I felt a little shy about being affectionate with Ray in front of him; sometimes, Turnbull used to give me the impression he had a crush on me, but I’m not sure how he felt about me now.

Luckily for me, Francesca’s friend Ursula kept him entertained for much of the night; Turnbull has the most annoying high-pitched giggle, which I heard many times. It cut right through the noise generated by the other revelers. Turnbull left with Ursula, leaving Melissa with no way to get home, which I thought was extremely ungentlemanly of him. 

We offered to drive her home, since she only lives a few minutes from us, but Melissa instead decided to stay with Francesca and go shopping with her in the morning.  Good for them.  The two of them made for good yin and yang.  Melissa lent maturity and grace to Francesca, and Francesca showed Melissa how to be “girly” as Ray would say.  The RCMP tended to turn women into “tomboys”. 

Time to get up, although I really haven’t gotten enough sleep. Pearson is going for a long run with me this morning, and then when I come back, I have to get ready for mass.  Ray and Francesca are putting in a rare attendance along with Mother and me.  I am singing a solo this morning, the “Ave Maria”.  Mrs. Dellfino has given me several voice lessons on Saturday afternoons to prepare. I’m ready, but nervous nonetheless.

30 July

Monday 21:00

I sang Ray awake this morning.  He was irritable and hit the snooze several times after I got in from my run, showered and made breakfast.  I decided to check on him one more time before I left for work, and he was still in bed.

He was going to be late if he didn’t get up, so I pulled the covers off of him.  He was wearing only underwear, so he immediately curled into a ball when the cool air-conditioned air hit his skin. 

I turned on the radio, and pulled him into a sitting position.  I pushed his legs to the floor.  Ray kept his eyes closed.  Served him right for staying up late all weekend, even last night, knowing he had to be at work early.

Neil Diamond’s “The Story of My life” began to play, and I pulled him up into my arms; me in my red serge and he in his underwear.  I began to sing it to him, and he reproached me for singing such a “sissy song”.  He tried to pull out of my arms and crawl back into bed.  He complained that I was a “such a fag” for liking Neil Diamond and I replied that I was, and since he was married to one, I supposed he was too.  I wrapped my arms around my sleepy husband and sang to him:

 The story of my life is very plain to read

It starts the day you came

And ends the day you leave

The story of my life begins and ends with you

The names are still the same

And the story's still the truth

I was alone.

You found me waiting and made me your own

I was afraid

That somehow I never could be
                                    a man that you wanted of me

You're the story of my life, and every word is true

Each chapter sings your name

Each page begins with you

It's the story of our times and
                                    never letting go

If I die today, I wanted you to know

Stay with me here

Share with me, care with me

Stay and be near

and when it began I'd lie awake
                                    every night

Just knowing somewhere deep inside

That our affair just might write

The story of my life is very plain to read

It starts the day you came

It ends the day you leave

“Thank you, Benny,” he said, his head buried in my shoulder.  “Thank you.”

“Thank YOU,” I said, and we kissed.  And kissed a little more.  And kissed again.  I felt something pressed against my hip.   Ray walked us backwards to the bed, and pushed me down. 

“Ray, you’re going to make me late, too.”

“So? You’re the boss. Just tell them you’re going to be late.”  He smiled.

I kissed Ray again, and long, sweet indulgent kiss, and pulled back.  I reached for the phone, and Ray slipped out of his underwear,  a very naughty smile on his face.