Serene Karplus, Nederland.  As a child enjoying summers on the beach in Heringsdorf, a tiny resort town on the Baltic Sea north of Berlin, my father experienced his first opera. Mozart’s Die Zauberflöte, or The Magic Flute, charms its audience with sweetness, humor, and a simplistic hero story of good vs. evil in settings of castles and forests. Sung in his native language, the story was accessible and memorable to a German youth.

On a recent Sunday morning, we learned that one of our party of seniors attending the Central City Opera production of this work could not attend that day. To avoid wasting the ticket, we invited my 92-year old Dad to join us. He was alert for the entire ride, from Boulder to Nederland to Central City and back again. Prior to their marriage in 1951, my parents toured through the area and I have a snapshot my mother took of Central City at that time. He almost remembers that trip.

After perusing art in the gallery across the street, Dad climbed 8 stairs to reach our opera seats. When he stated at intermission he could not discern the words on stage, neither sung nor spoken, the House Manager found a slightly better seat for him and we provided an audio enhancement device. He still had trouble understanding, even though he has been conversing in German several hours a week with a caregiver. The diction was quite clear to us, so it was disappointing he could not enjoy the language on stage. His eyes couldn’t quite make out the supertitles (even I have to squint to make the too-dotty lights form letters), so he could only follow the gist of the story, absorbing instead the visual and musical delights.

One of the immutable Laws of Nature is that it must rain during Central City Opera matinees and we shivered under umbrellas while Jim retrieved the car. Returning to Boulder too late for dinner at his independent living community, we took him out to eat. As the last raindrops fell, we prevailed on the restaurant to reopen its patio, as Dad loves dining al fresco. We watched as the fog lifted off the Flatirons and the sky converted to azure with white puffy clouds. He was absolutely tickled to be out for the evening, watching passers-by of all ages, keeping company with the younger folks. We were all proud of his all-day alertness and enthusiasm, his sparkling eyes and huge smiles all evening.

Monday morning, he walked into the dining hall and ate his breakfast, but they had to wheel him 20 yards back to his apartment. Maybe we’d had too much fun the day before and he was just exhausted. Feeling better later in the day after a serious nap, he eagerly accepted Jim’s invitation to the Boulder Band concert in a nearby park, where he walked across the grass and sat in a low armless lawn chair next to our blanket. He clapped and sang along with the Americana tunes so familiar to all of us. A friend of ours visited with us there, sporting a decorated cane cleverly covered with the body of a flute.

The next morning, Tuesday, he walked into breakfast, but once again had to be wheeled out. He complained his left hand was numb. We sent him back to bed for another long nap. In the evening his hand was fine, confirmed by visits from both Jim and the caregiver, who tucked him into bed after a late dinner.

Wednesday morning, caregivers found him on the floor by his bed, unable to get up. The front desk called to report that paramedics had left after lifting him back into bed. Dad exercises almost every morning and hasn’t fallen in years. I rushed down to find him dressed by the caregivers, sleeping in a chair, with his left hand flopped awkwardly in his lap. He couldn’t stand up, so I begged two staff members to help transfer him to a little walker seat with foot rests and out to my car, where he listed to the left as he slept on the short trip to the emergency room.

Five days later, he moved to a rehab facility to try to regain the left side of his body after the stroke. Time will tell whether he will ever walk again or attend another opera. If he does, maybe our friend will swap canes with him so a magic flute can protect him for the rest of his days.

******

All ages of adults are welcome at all events, attended mostly by folks over age 50. Sign up for all meals and events at 303-258-0799 or Meetup.com/Mountain-MidLife-Social-Group or by email at NederlandAreaSeniors@gmail.com. Meals are served at the Nederland Community Center. Please call two days ahead for lunch reservations (more for dinners and breakfasts if possible). Missed the deadline? Call anyway. Costs listed show first the over-age-60 requested anonymous contribution, then the under-age-60 price. Please note that all over age 60 are welcome at meals regardless of ability to contribute financially.