All right, I admit it: I’m a sucker for a good love story and a show tune. If that destroys my metal cred, so be it.
So here’s a love story I’ve been following for a few weeks. It’s made me laugh and cry and glow. It’s made me determined to ensure that my transgender fellow humans get to enjoy full and happy lives free of discrimination and prejudice. And it’s made me marvel at the beauty people are capable of. This love thing actually works sometimes.
So, of course, what else could the Sunday Song be but this?
I actually hadn’t known before now that Sarah Brightman ever performed this song. Speaking of love, I love Sarah Brightman. I first heard her in a record shop down in Phoenix, when we were on a trip for choir and had been allowed to mob the mall in between choir things. We were all from a microscopic town and went wild. I, wearing my metal shirt, went in for stuff like Ozzy and came out with an opera singer singing pop. Go figure. Of course, I was also the person who delighted in driving our old Cadillac with its Bose sound system blasting classical music. The looks on people’s faces when a headbanger stepped out with orchestras spilling after her was priceless. Also, I loved the music.
But this isn’t supposed to be about me, but about love. Here’s how I first heard the song:
Oh, yes. I did indeed own a copy of Michael Crawford Performs Andrew Lloyd Webber. Still do, in fact. Gorgeous music.
There’s places for everything in this world: opera and show tunes and metal, straight and gay and transgender. There’s places for life and love and discovery. Life is much better as a symphony. Life, in all its infinite variety, is beautiful, and so are the people who have let go of narrow categories, one-size-fits-all, and dared to take a chance on variations on the human theme.