Kindergarten, Pavarotti, and Ringtones

What do most five-year-old students do after kindergarten on any given day? Play with dolls or trucks? Play house? Eat a snack? Play with the cat? Listen to opera? Whoa...wait...what? What normal kid listens to opera unless living in Italy under the roof of an opera star? And, even then, what kid listens to it by choice?

Um...yes. Me. And, I didn't even grow up in Italy nor was I birthed by a prima donna. Nonetheless, the memory of these times lives vividly in the scrapbook of my mind. I can envision the massive record cover of Luciano Pavarotti, opera singer extraordinaire. It simply portrayed a dreamy cloud-filled sky. I can picture myself rushing in from school and petitioning my mom to get the record spinning as soon as possible. (Don't be fooled by the record reference. This did take place in the 80's. I guess my folks didn't care to upgrade the Pavarotti album to a cassette tape.)

Listening to opera is fun. Yet, any cool kindergarten child knows it's even more fun while jumping. So, being the with-it girl I was, I would bounce on our little mini-trampoline we had in the house while soaking in the tunes. Nothing like being exported to another realm by Pavarotti's rich voice while experiencing the sheer bliss of catipulting oneself into the air. My parents maintain that they thought this hobby of mine was cute. Thanks, Mom and Dad, though I hope you know you can be honest with me now...it's been a good 20-some years.

Fast forward to the year 2010 where record players have all but vanished. Last week, I graduated to a new cell phone. The fact that the mail-in rebate made it free will give you an indication as to how unexciting the new device is. The dismal selection of ringtones on the phone further confirms this. When I get a new phone, I treat myself to a new ringtone purchase. It's a small but fun indulgence.

My last ringtone purchase proved a bit ridiculous. "Sobbin Women" from Seven Brides for Seven Brothers is a fun ditty on the screen but makes for a potentially embarrassing ringtone. Regardless, I stuck to that ringtone during the lifetime of my previous phone. With a new phone in hand, I determined to find a fabulous new ring that would make me proud.

To whom did I turn? Handel. Yes, ancient, Baroque-period Handel. (As a reminder, I am a slight music nerd.) I selected a beautiful piece from his oratorio Samson. For those of you who may not know, an oratorio is similar to operatic singing except it is not in a plot/acting format. Here's the thing: though I liked to jump to opera as a child and still think it's a fine art form today, I would never select a ringtone with operatic singing. At least, not intentionally.

I bought the ringtone I currently have under the assumption that it was just an instrumental portion of the piece. Trust me, it's magnificent. Yet, after I bought it, I listened to it on my phone, and...to my chagrine...an operatic soprano burst into passionate singing after the initial music for which I had purchased the ringtone. Ugh! Failure! I thought I had risen above my buying-embarrassing-ringtones proclivity. Nope.

Please don't misunderstand me. The ringtone singing is beautiful, but, for as much of a music geek as I can be, I feel there are certain limits to operatic expression. Answering the phone to high-pitched warbles is a bit extreme, even for me.

I suppose I could buy a different ringtone, use a lame ringtone already on the phone, or always keep my phone on vibrate or silent (a bad, bad idea for me). Or, I could just tough it out for the next year or two of my life and thereby inevitably experience humiliating ringtone moments. Hmmm. Not yet sure what I'll do.

The moral or two of this story: Music that's great for jumping may not fit the bill for cell phone features, and stressing so much over a ringtone is probably not worthwhile. Most importantly, please don't let this story stop you from calling me! Embarrassing ringtones are worth it all if I can hear the voice of a treasured friend or beloved family member on the other end. Plus, I think I've made Pavarotti proud.