Author Archives: Jeffrey Carter

About Jeffrey Carter

University administrator, voice teacher, choral director, professor, singer, professional theatre music director, brother, son, uncle, Anglican, Scotch drinker, chef of moderate talent, NPR fanatic, gin aficionado, proponent of the music of Herbert Howells and Elgar and Vaughan Williams, pianist, composer, theatre geek, dog love & cat hater, author & blogger, world traveler, church organist, Anglophile.

Happy teacher

Seven of my private voice students were on stage at the Muny this week.

I’m one proud teacher.

I caught six of them after the second performance of The Little Mermaid.


That’s two waves, two guppies, a Flounder, and 1/4 of an octopus.  Not a bad catch . . . at the Muny.

Holiday

My 2.5-week summer holiday has commenced, as of the close of the work-day yesterday.

Unlike other summers where I’ve taken a full four weeks away from the office, I’m departing for a shorter term this year, since I am music-directing two different shows and only have 1.5 weeks off between the end of The Sweet Smell of Success and the start of rehearsals for Out on Broadway: The Third Coming.

But summer holiday is filled, as usual.  I’m off to NYC next week, for a short visit and some research.  Then I have a dash over to Lee’s Summit and on to Des Moines to see Billy Budd at Des Moines Opera.


The next few weeks, until August 10 or so, are still three-days-in-office, and some long weekends.  I still have reading to do, and music to compose, and local tourism to do!


But I wish I were abroad this summer . . . .

The dentist

I saw the dentist again on Wednesday.

Cleaning.  Fluoride treatment.

And an appointment to see him again in two weeks for an adjustment on the crown he installed in April.


Then I walked across the street to HotBox Cookies and bought two yummy, sugar-laden discs of doughy goodness to bring home with me.

Sandy Creek Bridge

I went with a friend on Sunday evening to Sandy Creek Covered Bridge in Hillsboro, down in the county where my father was born.

Until about 1900, I would have paid 3¢ to walk across this bridge, and each head of cattle or sheep I drove across would have cost me 1½¢.