As my guide dog Mark and I approach the check-out line at Fairway, one of New York City’s biggest and most crowded markets, a woman who is around my age with a thick Haitian accent says, “Okay, Honey, that’ll be $25. Are you sure you can carry those heavy bags home?”
“I’ll be fine,” I assure her.
“Are you sure, they’re really heavy,” she asks, sounding very concerned.
“Oh yeah, nothing to it, I do this every day,” I say, giving her a friendly smile.
“Okay, my dear,” she croons. “Good luck. Be careful; you take care of your Mommy, doggie.”
And just like that, the exchange is over, leaving both me and the well-meaning check-out girl uneasy. As Mark and I walk the one block home with groceries that are truthfully only moderately heavy, I am grappling with a slight blow to my self-esteem. It’s one thing for me to know I am an opera singer living in New York with a wonderful life partner of six years but it’s another to know the rest of the world sees an isolated young woman living in a lonely dark world, probably with no job and most likely with a paid helper who gets her through everyday tasks. I know it shouldn’t matter what people think. After all, most people are putting others into categories in their own minds anyway, and there’s nothing we can do about this.
We certainly can’t get into other people’s heads and we just have to live our lives the way we see fit. Every time these innocent little exchanges at a supermarket, or seemingly innocuous comments, are made about my blindness, I can’t help but start thinking about the lack of heroes and public role models I have. The precious few, such as Andrea Bocelli, Stevie Wonder and Ray Charles, who are undeniably fantastic artists, are just not enough. I’m searching for the hot blind woman who, on an episode of Sex and the City, casually sits down at a glamorous restaurant with her guide dog discretely tucked under her chair, a handsome heartthrob in a wheelchair that Monica and Rachel fight over on Friends, or the gorgeous deaf lover of one of the doctors on Grey’s Anatomy. Where are these normal, everyday characters, who just happen to have a disability? Without them, grocery store check-out girls, opera directors who have the power to hire me, and others in everyday life situations are at a loss for what to do when a person with a disability crosses their path, or in my case, their stage.
When I started auditioning for competitions and operas, and otherwise navigating the already difficult and competitive world of classical music, I learned I needed to become a complete package. For many, this package not only includes a good voice and the right look but it also includes sight, something which I probably won’t ever have. As the years went by and I kept singing, I began finding ways of including my blindness as a unique asset in completing the package that is me.
Two years ago, I traveled to Israel to audition for the conductor of the Israel Philharmonic and found the most incredible part of my trip was visiting the Israel Guide Dog Center for the Blind. The director of the program, Noach Braun, told me prior to his founding this training center, blind Israelis had to travel to either England or the U.S. to be matched with a guide dog. This meant fluency in English was a must, and one had to be financially able to travel for several weeks at a time. Furthermore, there would be no local support to help the handler/dog teams acclimate to their home environments.
When I visited the beautiful campus and met the handlers and their dogs, I was touched by how happy they were. Many of them raved about Noach and the guide dog school, saying it had changed their lives. Some of them were newly blinded and thought they would never be able to be independent again until their new guide dogs entered their lives. Like me, some of them were born blind but the guide dogs with which they were matched still gave them a feeling of liberation beyond their wildest dreams. Being a guide dog handler myself, I could totally relate to their sentiments.
That same day, I told Noach I wanted to do something to contribute. Even though my dog hails from Long Island’s Guide Dog Foundation for the Blind, I feel such a strong connection to Israel as someone who is Jewish, and was particularly inspired by my visit. The Israel Guide Dog Center relies on funding from generous donors to keep the school’s operations running. It took me two years but I’m now in the process of preparing for a recital I’m giving in LA where I was born and raised, all the proceeds from which will go to the Israel Guide Dog Center.
Preparing for a recital is one of my favorite things to do. I’m often hired to perform in concerts presented by other people and organizations, which I love doing; when an entire program becomes my brainchild, I take a great deal of pleasure in putting it all together. Since this guide dog organization is in Israel, I called upon my friend Noam Sivan who wrote me a truly gorgeous song cycle called In the Mountains of Jerusalem, using texts by the late poet Leah Goldberg. Noam is actually flying to LA to perform this set of four songs with me. He also arranged a popular Israeli song called Hayu Leilot for piano, voice and clarinet which we will perform with my partner, clarinetist Jenny Taira.
A few years ago, when I was listening to KUSC, LA’s only classical music station, I heard some beautiful guitar music by Joaquin Rodrigo, whose name I had heard many times. When the piece ended, the announcer mentioned that Rodrigo was blind. I was shocked. Not once had that fact been mentioned to me before. After that, I couldn’t wait to get my hands on his vocal music, of which there is plenty. His daughter runs a foundation in his name, complete with a website where all of his music can be purchased. I found a treasure trove of songs for voice and piano.
Joaquin Rodrigo (1901-1999) was a Spanish composer who became blind from a diphtheria epidemic in Valencia, Spain, and despite the fact his family had no musical inclinations, he pursued a career in music, began composing at a very young age and persuaded his father to let him go to Paris to study as other great Spanish composers had done. He was a favorite pupil of Paul Dukas and obtained a scholarship from Spain to continue his studies in Paris where he met his future wife, the Turkish pianist of Sephardic origin, Victoria Kamhi.
Both families opposed their marriage but they prevailed and their union was very fruitful as she became his collaborator, companion and in his words “his eyes” for a long life together. He became very prolific, respected and well known but most people do not know he was blind. I had stumbled upon him at last, my blind classical music hero, a person who made music history and contributed so much wonderful repertoire to the array of music performed to this day. In my quest to find some of his songs to perform in my concert, I contacted his daughter Cecilia who responded to me directly upon hearing I myself am blind and am interested in performing her father’s music. I will be performing six of his songs for voice and piano in my concert.
I happen to be a huge fan of musical theater and can’t resist including some of my favorite show tunes in the concert. As I was rehearsing “You’ll Never Walk Alone” from Carousel, I dissolved into tears. When you’ve been traveling with a devoted four legged pair of eyes for seven years, the words of that beautiful anthem make you realize you indeed will never walk alone with a guide dog by your side. “The Impossible Dream” seems to relate directly to the trials and tribulations Noach Braun went through to start the Guide Dog Center in Israel. “For Good” from Wicked is another that seems appropriate for the evening. After all, we are changed by a guide dog that helps us become independent, navigating us through the rough terrain of the streets we travel every day. Kate Reinders, who performed the role of Glinda on Broadway, will be singing this poignant duet with me.
I hope that many of you will join me in supporting the Israel Guide Dog Center for the Blind. In return, I promise you a night of great music. I’m going to be performing with some of my dearest and most talented friends, and I’ll be sharing the music of my new found musical role model.
Supporting a cause I believe in and giving voice to a rarely done musical jewel by a celebrated blind composer is one of the most rewarding things I can do as a performer. Perhaps even tolerating a bit of ignorance once in a while is rewarding too when it means I’ve educated someone a bit about the life of someone with a disability. The only solution to the lack of role models out there is to become one you. That’s why when I put myself out there, I make sure what I say and what I sing sends the message I so passionately want to convey. Having a story to tell is the whole reason for creating and performing art. Music is my way of expressing that I indeed have a rich, full and valuable life, that of a normal girl who sometimes has to carry moderately heavy groceries around the obstacles of New York City.
Blind since birth, mezzo-soprano Laurie Rubin, a native of Encino and now a full-time resident of New York City, received high praise from New York Times chief classical music critic Anthony Tommasini, who wrote she possesses “compelling artistry,” “communicative power” and that her voice displays “earthy, rich and poignant qualities.” Recent career highlights include her United Kingdom solo recital debut performance at Wig more Hall in London as well as her solo recital debut at Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall. Rubin has performed concerts of new music with the Chamber Music Society of Lincoln Center and has performed numerous roles, including the lead role of Karen in The Rat Land by Gordon Beeferman with New York City Opera, Penelope in Monteverdi’s The Return of Ulysses and the title role in Rossini’s La Cenerentola. She has recorded a CD of art songs with renowned collaborative pianists Graham Johnson and David Wilkinson on the Opera Omnia label. Her memoir, Do You Dream in Color: Insights from a Girl Without Sight, is scheduled to be published by Langenscheidt Group in the fall of this year. To learn more about Rubin, visit: laurie-rubin.com or her blog at http://www.laurie-rubin.com/blog/ or call 818.905.1421.
Laurie Rubin and Friends, a program of works by Mozart, Rodrigo, Gershwin, Sondheim, Schwartz and Sivan, among others, will be Sun., Feb. 28, at 7:30 pm, at Zipper Concert Hall, Colburn School of Music, 200 S. Grand Ave., Los Angeles. Tickets: $50 (students: $20) are 100% tax deductible. Call 800.838.3006 or brownpapertickets.com/event/93740. Tickets will also be on sale at the door, subject to availability.













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