I ran to the Opera House, hoping that somehow, in some way, I might find a coveted ticket for Monday night’s performance of Tosca.

Anna Netrebko. Of course. That’s explained everything.

While I walked, a memory surfaced. For a few years Netrebko had lived across the hall from my parents. I met her occasionally in the elevator, but my father had multiple encounters with her.

He was not a performer in grand halls, his voice was a humble one, yet whenever he served as a Baal Tefila in our small Stibl in Vienna, his voice created a stir of his own.

My father revered voices.........

© The Times of Israel (Blogs)