Lyrics and Lyricists

When we moved to the Upper Eastside many years ago,  we never imagined how much time we’d spend at the 92nd St Y.

My husband joined the gym and swam several times a week in their Olympic-size pool;  I became a Poetry Center member and twice or thrice a month I heard the most acclaimed writers of the day read from their latest works;  and we enrolled our toddler in a wonderful children’s art class called Red,  Yellow,  Blue,  and Glue.

One year at the Y I learned to use a potter’s wheel;  and a few years running I had Sunday morning bagels there as literary biographers talked about their subjects in a series called Biography and Brunch;  and one year I took a memoir-writing class;  and twice at the Y I read James Joyce’s masterpiece Ulysses.

And for many years I used the Y’s wonderful members’  library until sadly it closed.   A librarian myself,  I bonded with the Y librarian,  now a good friend.   And over the years we’d hear movers and shakers in every field from politics to science to the arts lecture at the Y,  and in the same elegant Y auditorium we enjoyed concerts in musical genres from classical to jazz.

In fact for more than 40 years we’ve subscribed to a concert series called  Lyrics and Lyricists.  In five concerts mounted between January and June,  L & L pays tribute to an American Song Book or a Broadway lyricist,  or a musical theatre theme,  with songs performed cabaret style by an always fabulous cast of singers and dancers.  And to the delight of loyal L & L fans,  each first act closes with an audience sing-along.

But each fall when our L & L tickets come in the mail,  I’m reminded of the time I almost landed myself in the doghouse.   That year when the series renewal letter arrived it somehow buried itself in my desk and was forgotten.  As January approached  I realized we hadn’t gotten our tickets and I called the Y box office in a huff to complain.

”Sorry,” I was told by the young lady on the phone,  “we have no record of your renewal.”

”That’s impossible,”   I said,  “we’re long-time subscribers,  we sit in the balcony, house right,  seats DD1 and DD3.  We’ve had those seats for years!”

“I’m sorry,”  she said again,  “but it seems this year you didn’t renew.”

I demanded to speak to the box office manager,  but he rebuffed me too.

“I’m sorry madam,”  he said,  “we didn’t receive your renewal and the dates you want are sold out.”

Then it dawned on me that with no cancelled check or credit card receipt to present,  indeed I may NOT have renewed.   It was time to bring out the big guns.

”Please sir,”  I cried,  you must give us back our seats,  we love Lyrics and Lyricists,  we’re loyal fans!”

”Sorry madam,”   he said,  “there’s nothing I can do.”

”But you must,”  I wailed   “my husband will kill me!” 

Between sobs I begged a bit longer until over the phone line I heard the box office manager heave a big sigh.

”Hold on please madam,”  he said,  “I’ll see what I can do.”

Soon he was back on the phone.

“Madam,  you’ve worn me down.”  he laughed,   “I’ve got your tickets.”

And so here we are back in the balcony,  house right,  seats DD1 and DD3,  getting ready to sing along!

– Dana Susan Lehrman

Dana Susan Lehrman
This retired librarian loves big city bustle and cozy country weekends, friends and family, good books and theatre, movies and jazz, travel, tennis, Yankee baseball, and writing about life as she sees it on her blog World Thru Brown Eyes!
www.WorldThruBrownEyes.com

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