A Rose Is Still a Rose

A month ago Roselinda K. Rampp passed away after a difficult battle with ovarian cancer. As this video shows, Rose was deeply passionate about sharing the joy of music with others. She was one my former supervisors at the Levine School of Music and had a huge influence on my professional career. I credit her with playing a part in my decision to pursue a career as an arts administrator. Her dedication to help build not only a program, but a school, that would provide a strong musical presence in the community was inspiring to me.

Before I go on I feel the need to be completely honest. Although I loved Rose, our relationship wasn't perfect. Our personalities and work habits could be very different, so sometimes we butted heads. After I left Levine I pulled away a bit, but in the past year I began to realize how big a role she'd played in my life when I started to apply for graduate school to study arts administration. I'm not sure if I'd be as passionate creating my own performing arts institution at this stage in my life if it wasn't for the experiences that I had working in her office so early in my career.

I hope she knew I thought she was a woman with wonderful ideas and I admired her passion for the arts. Sometimes, I'm not sure if she realized how unique she was. I would say one of my biggest pet peeves with her were the moments when I felt like she didn't. She had a heart bigger than I think her body could hold. If something bad happened to someone she cared about she would start crying before a tear could even fall down their own cheek. She was beautiful and funny. Even after she lost her hair during her first fight with cancer in 2008 her beautiful eyes still shone right through. She was so giving wanted everyone to be happy. As I look around my own bedroom, I see I have so many items that were gifts from her.

When I moved to New York she told me she was afraid I would forget her. How could she think I ever would? The memory of her was long ago tightly woven into the story of my life. I'm still processing the fact that she's actually gone. When I see pictures of her smiling face, it really hits me.

I want to end with a "Rose quote" that I posted on my wall the day after she passed away:

"I love hearing the children sing as they come out of class, give out hugs, and play with each other. Thank you for being a part of our lives."

Actually....when I think about it, I feel like it might be more appropriate to use a quote that accurately sums up our relationship. Well, I know she would laugh at this anyways:

Rose: That's what she said!
Me:...I should have never taught you that.

<3 I won't forget.

Rose and my former colleague Youlee playing a duet at Levine's ECEM Grandparents Day Recital in October 2007

To learn more about ovarian cancer, please visit the National Ovarian Cancer Coalition website.

An Open Letter to Winter

Dear Winter,

Hi, how are you? You really seem to be thriving lately. I was wondering if we could have a little chat? Great.

At the beginning of the season, you seemed like you couldn't decide if you really wanted to come or not. Why it was 50 degrees one day, and 35 the next . . . I was beginning to wonder if your heart was really into it. Let me say I am so sorry for having doubted your staying power. Now that you've been hanging around for a couple of months and making a really strong impression, I just have a quick question: Will you be leaving any time soon?

Don't get me wrong, I understand you have a job to do. There are seasons, and you must oblige by the laws of nature . . . but do you have to be so cold and so snowy? Seriously Winter, a low of 7 degrees? If I wanted to live in a tundra, I would have moved to Chicago. Yes, yes, I know I live in the North Eastern region of the U.S., but really?!?! 7 degrees? Ok.

Also, what's with all the snow? It's getting to the point where last week I walked half a block before I noticed there was new snow on the ground. Perhaps I'm bitter because in my new home city, NYC, they really don't start shutting things down for anything under 10 inches. Back in my hometown area, Washington D.C., about two inches was enough to go into panic mode.

So, I guess I'm just trying to figure out when you're planning on leaving. I get that February is coming, and you probably plan on sticking that one out, but are you going to start making your exit around March? I don't want you to feel like you've worn out your welcome but . . . you kind of have. If it's so cold that you can feel the chill beneath a layer of five mixed vodka drinks, it's REALLY cold.

It's not you, it's me. I just have other things I really want to do with my time. I want to lay around Central Park, wear sundresses, and watch movies in Bryant Park at night. You can't give me this. You can give me ice skating at Rockefeller, but that's really about it.

In short, take the time you need . . . but please leave soon. I hope I wasn't rude. In case we don't get to speak again, I'll see you next year. Take care of yourself ok?

Love,

Erika