Saturday, I went to the opera. My son and I went to see Rigoletto at Hubbard Hall in Cambridge, NY.

Opera was not part of my upbringing. In fact, I thought I didn’t like it (without giving it a chance) until I was in my late 20’s. It was then that I was hired to videotape a season of the Roanoke Opera and discovered that I actually did like it.

But I haven’t gone to see an opera for some time. Since my divorce nearly a decade ago in fact. The reason was not really a good one. I had done that season of videotaping as an extra side job to earn the money to buy the engagement ring for my (now ex) wife, and operas brought back that sense of loss.

Not that I mourn the marriage. I did for a long time, but I am long since that. My life has turned out just fine, and I’m all in all, a pretty happy guy, with fulfilling work, lots of creativity, joy and love all around me.

Opera was one of those things that brings back old ghosts, the ghost not so much of the marriage itself, but of that sense of loss that always comes when one season of life ends, and new ones begin. I just sort of put it aside. I liked opera. But I didn’t miss it. It’s not like it was a huge part of my life.

My son moved up here to live with me at the beginning of the summer. It’s been a season of discovery. He and I have always stayed in pretty good touch via all the electronic means available in today’s world. (Skype is my friend.), and he has spent a fair amount of time up here over the years. But there is a difference between those kinds of visits and living with a person. You learn a lot about someone, living with them.

One of the things I learned about my son is that he likes Opera. While visiting over lunch with my friend Jon, we began to talk about theatre, and the fact that Rigoletto was playing that very weekend.

Ah, the way my son’s eyes lit up. No parent could say no to that kind of excitement, even in the face of ghosts. We bought tickets for the Saturday showing.

The production was wonderful. Maria Katz has already written eloquently about the power and intimacy of the production. Unlike big opera productions where you watch, in this production, in this small setting, you felt like you were in the production. You didn’t just hear the voices, you felt them.

It was wonderful and afterwards, both my son and I were glowing with the energy from the show. And best of all, the ghosts were gone.

Ghosts, I have learned, don’t just go away. They are replaced. In this case, the memory of operas, which was tied to saving to buy an engagement ring for a lost marriage was replaced by the excitement and joy of sharing the day with my son.

It is a lesson I have learned many times, that ghosts only leave us when they are replaced. And yet I am surprised every time it happens. This time though, it has me thinking. What other ghosts do I have? What can I do to replace them with spirits of joy? It’s time to be proactive, to be my own ghostbuster and push aside any remaining haunters of my soul and replace them with sunlight.

And maybe experience some great music along the way.

Be well. Travel Wisely.

Tom