Caroling in Vegas

“Oh what fun it is to ride in a one horse open sleigh!”   Yes, such as it is, we were caroling in the desert last night.  Just several days ago, we flew over the snow-covered region of Northern Indiana and landed in parched and barren Nevada  — the desert’s winter chill, a welcomed respite from the arctic cold.  We’re here in sunny Las Vegas to celebrate our son, Paul’s, second masters, this time in special education from the University of Nevada Las Vegas.

His first, an MFA in photography, a couple of years ago, was from the School 0f the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston. It’s there where he met our lovely daughter-in-law, Katie, also an MFA in photography. Needless to say, we are bursting with pride.  Paul  came to Las Vegas initially as a high school teacher for Teach for America.  Having completed his two year obligation with Teach for America, he’s now enjoying teaching in a Title I high school that is largely Latino.

As part of this celebratory graduation week, we dined at the iconic Top of the World restaurant and had a panoramic view of the neon-lit city and its famed mile-long strip.  As the restaurant turned slowly on its axis, we saw in the distance, the bright glow of the Trump Tower, looming large with no edifice near it matching its height or showiness.  Though duly forewarned by our waiter not to be alarmed,  we were startled by the  bungee jumper whizzing by just outside our window.   As the saying goes, “Whatever happens in Vegas stays in Vegas,” and here there are many surprises!  But this is not an adventure, I’ll ever want to experience.

And those carols?  Paul and Katie invited us to a piano bar, the Classic Jewel, for Opera on Tap.  Ugly Christmas sweaters were encouraged but not required.  The superb operatic singing made for a pleasant evening!

Singers from the Sin City Opera thrilled the patrons with a sundry of Christmas carols, traditional and pop, in beautiful tenor and soprano voices.  There were choruses, duets, and solo performances and an audience sing-a-long of favorite carols.  The evening ended with a rousing chorus from La Traviata.  We met several of Paul and Katie’s friends, including one of Paul’s colleagues who sang a beautiful aria.  Katie and Paul earned the second place prize for the most imaginative sweaters.  Sporting a Santa Claus hat and beard, Paul adorned his sweater with pre-tied package bows.  We enjoyed chatting with the singers learning about their interest in opera, how they came to this city and what keeps them here.  The climate, of course, was a big attraction, but we also learned that there is an active arts scene.  Admittedly, as one of the singers commented, it’s hidden and you have to look for it.

Another fun thing we did was drive one evening through the Nascar Speedway transformed into fields of glittering Christmas lights.  Quite a panoramic display that rivaled the glimmer of the Strip!

Our son and daughter-in-law, artists themselves are beginning to discover Las Vegas’ charms.  We’ve been having engaging conversations with them learning more about their teaching and listening to them explain how they create art.  We’ve observed their pace of life and how they live.  They are a good couple together and their different personalities mesh well.  Although they are adjusting to living here, we learned that they won’t make Las Vegas their permanent home but will stay a few years longer before moving, perhaps back to Boston where they feel there is more opportunity for them as artists.

I’m not a big Las Vegas fan either, but each visit increases my tolerance for this city of ostentatious glitter.  I’ve never been a gambling aficionado!  It seems such a waste!  Consider me a scrooge!  The closest I’ve come to gambling is an occasional lottery ticket and the church bingo. To me it’s disturbing to stroll through a casino of transfixed faces and mechanized arms in front of a slot machine, including the equally intense, immobile gazes at the blackjack and poker tables. I fear that many are addicted gamblers who do not have sufficient financial capital for these idle pleasures.  But in the words of Pope Francis, “Who am I to judge?”

After a pleasant afternoon at the theater to watch the Star Wars prequel, Rogue One, the kids are preparing a festive meal of salmon with grilled vegetables.  Earlier I browsed through dozens of slides from my early adulthood that Paul commandeered sometime ago.  This photographic journey brought back many memories of my Vietnam year, including my R &R  in Hong Kong,  my travels as a Fulbright teaching assistant in France and  NEH scholar in West Africa.   I was struck by the quality of the images captured by my untrained eye. (Even Paul mentioned once that he liked the composition of some of my images.) The pictures of Vietnam and West Africa were arresting in their depiction of the rhythms of daily life; those in France were of monuments and buildings.  Vietnam was a significant marker in my life.  I was amazed by the numerous slides of inebriated merriment of me and my fellow soldiers.  Their  faces I remembered, but few of their names.

A highlight of our trip was the Stations of the Cross at St. John Neumann Catholic Church,  moving photos of suffering people across the world to whom the Maryknoll Fathers and Brothers minister.

Together they gave a powerful message of social justice to which we need to commit and make real.  The congregation itself was the most diverse we’ve ever experienced.  We noticed at least ten different ethic groups and nationalities among the packed congregation.

Today we leave for Portland, OR to visit our newest grandson, Theron.  And another chapter in our Christmas travels begins.