Well, it's the end of March. It's been a simply horrible month. It began with the death of my only parent, and her funeral the following week. A few days before that, I broke a sesamoid bone in my left foot and by this time am midway through six weeks in a 10-lb., $300 Bledsoe boot, which is a type of removable cast. It's a physically challenging period at the end of which, if not healed, I may require surgery to remove the bone fragments. So now, at the end of March, there's finally something to look forward to...Mathis is coming to town! How nice it is to have something to smile about for a change. Going to the show is surely going to be a tiring, but I dragged this foot to the funeral, I'll be damned if I'll miss the show because of it.

Fast forward to the night of the show! I need to make sure I have my tickets BEFORE I get into the car. I've been holding on to them for a six months, keeping them in my picture frame with all my old Mathis birthday & Christmas cards, and the ticket stubs from past performances I've been to. These tickets went on sale in August -- and by September I was already too late for the "good seats" since it's a Philharmonic show, and the season ticket holders get first crack at them. At least, thank God, there's no fan club in place here to siphon off even more of the seats. I still have a good vantage point, though, and I'm generally pleased. Of course, no matter how good your seats are, it's never close enough; and from where I'll be, I'll certainly need more than a bird's eye view; but on the other hand, when you have field glasses, any seat is a good seat, isn't it?

Deciding what to take with me is simple enough: I take a brown paper grocery sack with handles with me into which I'll put my field glasses, a pen and a notepad, as well as any souvenirs I might buy. I've learned a lot since my first Mathis concert, and this time I've made sure to dress for the occasion; well, reasonably decent considering a cast and panty hose don't go well together. Being March, it's still a little nippy, so I've got my wrap coat, the same one I bought for the funeral, so now I consider myself ready to go!

Well, I'm early enough by about an hour. Clutching both tickets in my hand, I don't know which one to use. I don't expect it really matters. I always buy two seats, just in case someone wants to go with me, but mainly to have a place to put my souvenir bag and coat.

I look around at the crowd in line for anybody I know, and I actually see a few, but they're with their families and I don't bother them. I'm glad I came when I did, even gladder that they have more than one line going...after a while it's starting to go out into the sidewalk, if you can call it that, that paved area underneath all the scaffolding that projects out to the street. The Myriad's being refurbished and at this particular point in time they are a long way from being finished yet...but seeing as how the Civic Center, where Mathis appeared in '89, is totally out of commission I guess this is the best they could do. Frankly, I think it would have been better off in Tulsa, but driving to Tulsa on a Friday night when you have to be at work at five on Saturday morning wouldn't have been feasible, either. So what do you do?

Finally! The ticket gates open. Slowly through the turnstile I go, walking with my slow rhythmic hobble to find the entrance closest to my seat, but it's still a while before the show, still. There's a small, makeshift souvenir stand set up. Hm... maybe I can replace my comfortable old black Johnny Mathis sweatshirt with a newer one. I see some T-shirts, sweatshirts, souvenir books, and a couple of the more recent Mathis CDs. I stand just off to the side for a while to observe the people minding the store, and also to watch what other people get. Then I pay more attention to the display just behind the booth attendants showing a sample of what's for sale and the prices of the merchandise. I don't see a black sweatshirt...too bad...but there is a pastel-colored one with a simplistic little logo on it for...

THIRTY-FIVE DOLLARS?!?!? Well, I'll tell you what, it'll be a cold day in hell before I pay that for a sweatshirt, I don't care whose name is on it! For my black one I bought at the Meyerson in Dallas I didn't pay but $20, and these here don't even come in black! Sorry, Rojon, but I'm going to settle for something cheaper. How about a T-shirt, then? $25. Next! Nightshirt, god knows how much. I give up at this point! I guess I won't be replacing old blackie anytime soon. The souvenir books are $10 apiece. Finally! Something affordable. This looks like the best I'm going to do. They'll make nice presents. I remember when these first came out, they were $15 apiece, so it's kind of a bargain. I buy three. After that disappointing little visit, it's time to go find my seat and sit down.

I find the entrance closest to my seat. I hobble up to the rail and look around. I wasn't up this high since I went to an OU football game back in the middle 80's. An usher, shows me the general direction of my seat. Now I'm worried. I've got to maneuver like a mountain goat up narrow concrete steps which my encased foot doesn't fit too well on. Cautiously and sslllloooowwwwwllllyyyy I make my way up to the still-empty row of red metal folding chairs with plastic padding, find my two seats, unfold them, put my sack in one, and gratefully sit down in the other. I thank the Father for allowing me to get this far without mishap. Whew! Well, the show doesn't start until 8:30, and it's going to take me at least that long to recover from my ascent. How I dread when the concert's over, and I have to try to descend these narrow concrete steps with my cast with a crowd behind me. But that's later. As I'm catching my breath, I scan the arena. Yes, arena. This is where our hockey team plays...and underneath the flooring where they now have rows of chairs is a sheet of ice.

You know, I have to think that having Johnny Mathis perform in a tent is better than having him perform at a sports arena, with a hot dog man in the lobby and juice vendors going up and down selling their drinks...I feel like someone should apologize to me for making me try to enjoy a concert in such an environment! They DEFINITELY should apologize to Mr. Mathis for having him perform under such circumstances. It was drafty in there! It's practically disrespectful, and Mr. Mathis showed a lot of class for even going through with it. We can't ever hope to attract quality performing artists the caliber of Johnny Mathis if we have them performing in an arena designed for semi-pro sports! Oh well.

What a contrast this is from the Civic Center show, where you had flowers being sold, and drinks, and it was clean and carpeted, and you got to sit on nice cloth seats like it was some fancy classical music concert, which in many ways it was, but I didn't realize it at the time. Ah, innocence!

OK. Let's just focus on the music then, if I can't enjoy the surroundings. Considering I got these tickets in September, and even though they are up high, these seats aren't that bad, and they offer a decent view of the stage, which is raised, too. I'm not way up in the ceiling in the nosebleed seats, not in the basement floor on top of the ice rink having to look up at the stage, and not too close to the speakers, thank God. I can see all the goings on, even the sound and lighting man's booth in the back. Of course, my ever present field glasses offer a great view wherever I may be, and it's time to get those adjusted.

Things are starting to happen. The orchestra members, a few of whom will pass me in the parking garage after the show, are coming on stage and getting ready to play. The Philharmonic guys and gals look great, as usual, in their white coats and black slacks. Remind me of the guys on "Evening at Pops". The horns toot their indeterminate little tunes, triangles tinkle, celloes moan. The core of the Mathis ensemble is not there yet, but I see where they'll go--the usual arrangement. I see a big piano---even my field glasses can't make out what kind it is, but it doesn't look like one of those long "concert Steinways". Someone just came to sit at it, possibly the concertmaster. I'm not really focused yet; I can't make out whether it's a woman or whether it's John Scott Lavender in black tights.

Sigh. it seems no matter how I adjust these field glasses, I see best with one eye through them. Ah!! I make a remarkable discovery! If I take my glasses completely off, I can see perfectly through the field glasses! How does that work? This has to be a happy anomaly available only to nearsighted folk like myself!

Ah, I can see the stage well now! And that's definitely not Mr. Lavender!

More of the orchestra has shown up, fifteen minutes to showtime. The sound and lighting man's area is, by comparison, relaxed. The two or three guys back there seem almost bored. I guess this sort of thing gets to be old hat to roadies.

Good grief! Someone almost fell just now a few rows down, and they don't even HAVE a cast. The Great Hall is filling up nicely now.

Well, at this point I'm trying to take some notes, relax and soak up the before-the-show atmosphere. All these voices and conversations, the tuning up of the instruments, not being able to hear yourself think, this will all change soon. After the lights dim and after Mathis shows up on stage and takes his bows you'll be able to hear a pin drop.

While the lights are still up, I can scan the audience better. An awful lot of older people. I'd dare say the majority. As usual. But there's a fair amount of younger people, too. This is good. A spattering of dark-skinned people in the audience, but Lord knows they're too far up for Mathis to see how well-represented we are. A few stragglers and late-comers, but not many. Classical music audiences are better trained about that than people who don't regularly go, I think. I hear at some venues, if you show up after the show has started, they won't let you in until intermission! I have a feeling this concert won't be for three hours. I'm betting on an hour and a half.

Oops, there goes the light. I'll be taking notes by feel from this point on. It's showtime!

This part of the show belongs to the Oklahoma City Philharmonic Orchestra conducted by Joel Levine. We really do have a great orchestra here. I'm sure Tulsa does as well, but I've never heard it. Tulsa's Phil is giving a concert this very night featuring Mathis' friend Roberta Flack. It would have been nice to hear them "set the night to music" together!

The "Phil" starts the show with the Joe Raposo song "Sing" from Sesame Street, then they play Mac Davis' "I Believe In Music". That gets me thinking about his TV show I used to watch every week. Next, they do a humorous parody of the construction that's going on at the Myriad and downtown OKC in general as part of our MAPS project. (MAPS stands for Metropolitan Area Projects.)The Phil is being accompanied by three construction workers, or folks dressed as such, playing sanding blocks. Mr. Levine even donned a hardhat for this number while he conducted.

A Gershwin medley follows, and as I listen I really find myself missing chairs with arms to lean on! A portly guy in the row behind me is totally uncomfortable and wants to come and sit in my row, where there are few people. This suits me, as I was kind of tired of his knees in the back of my chair, so I raise up and fold my chair to let him through. After I sit back down he notices my field glasses and asks to borrow them. That figures. Why can't people ever remember to bring their own? But I don't mind, since there's really nothing I want to see up close right now, anyway.

The man hands them back to me and tells me he'd like to borrow them again when Mathis is on...just to see how much he's changed over the years. I smile, say "sure". Everybody says that, then they marvel at how youthful the sixty-something singer is when they get a good look at him.

The next song, MacArthur Park, was written by an Oklahoman, Jimmy Webb. Joel Levine notes it is beautiful music with questionable lyrics. Why do people have such a hard time with metaphors? The song is perfectly clear to me. Sometimes I think that it's somehow fashionable to pretend you're stupid for social purposes...

Well, it's intermission time now. Wow, it's nine-thirty. Everybody makes a mad dash for the bathroom. Not me. I'm staying put. I'm not negotiating those bleachers with this foot. Right now I'm wishing I had gotten tickets for the Dallas show next week. I would be enjoying the atmosphere a lot better. But with the funeral and all, things just didn't fall into place.

I can see Gil Reigers, Mathis' stage manager and guitarist, making on the stage making preparations. Johnny Mathis' core musicians, Reigers, Eric Messerschmidt, Joe Lizama, John Scott Lavender, are all on the stage now. They are dressed like the rest of the Philharmonic, except the two guitarists Reigers and Messerschmidt are dressed entirely in black/dark clothing.

Once again the lights dim. The man I've come to see ascends the steps to the stage, and as soon as the audience sees him, a cheer erupts. Dressed for the occasion in standard dark tux, white shirt, black bowtie, Mathis nods appreciately, grabs his mic, and quickly gets down to business. As the music plays, the crowd becomes silent. I marvel at this with every show!

Mathis thanks everybody for coming and that it's time for "my part of the show"! He introduces the first songs he'll perform as being favorites from his friend, the late Henry Mancini. He breezes through "The Days of Wine and Roses" and especially "Moon River", which always seems to stir up the crowd with its strong finish. I let my neighbor gaze through the field glasses during these songs. Meanwhile, I'm watching Mathis intently. He's moving well, no limp to speak of, and this early in the show, there's no sign of fatigue or physical weakness (he doesn't need or want a chair). I'm glad. It's only been three months since his hip replacement surgery, and he seems focused, not distracted like he seemed to be in Dallas in 1996. Who knows what kind of pain he was in back then, but it sure seemed like something was affecting him then. Thank you Jesus! There seems to be none of that now. He looks and sounds wonderful--my Mathis is back!

Next, a fairly recent song in concert, hurray! "All In The Game", from 1989..unfortunately that's just about as recent as he gets in the show.

Time for his obligatory and thankfully brief foray into "Johnny's Greatest Hits", shortened versions of "Chances Are" and "Wonderful! Wonderful!" which he sings as a medley to get through them even faster. Good for him. Do the old stuff then move on, please!

One of the original hits, though, he does to completion, his classic "Misty", written by the late Errol Garner and Johnny Burke. I must say the performance was strong, and the trademark high note, the one that blends with the piccolo in the Phil's orchestra - was done to perfection, only slightly clipped at the end. It was better than I'd heard it done in a long time. It really did my heart good to hear my beloved Mathis back in top form. The old guy's still got it!

I now have my field glasses back, and seeing Mathis through a circular field offers a unique perspective, and I can't help thinking this would be a good scene to put on a collector plate.

Mathis takes a sip or two from a glass (hopefully it's water) and goes into the "Kismet" medley: "Baubles, Bangles, Beads", and "Stranger In Paradise". Kismet is a most horrible movie musical which I could not stand to even sit through even once.

One by one, without comment he goes through the songs, at the ends of which the Oklahoma City audience respectfully and appreciatively applauds and whistles. At one point someone calls out to him, getting a chuckle out of the bemused Mathis and the audience, but I didn't really understand what was said.

Johnny Mercer's "Laura", from movie of the same name. I do like THIS movie, even if it is strange. I've always said that the best movies were in black and white.

"And Her Mother Comes Too" is a cute little song I hadn't heard in a long time in concert. I'm glad he's reintroduced it into his shows. It's his chance to do show off his comical side.

A nod to his mentor and idol, Nat King Cole with "To the Ends Of The Earth".

At this point, Mathis finally speaks, paying fitting tribute to his friend "Tommy", namely producer Thom Bell, who, as Mathis proudly mentions, wrote several songs exclusively for him, two of which he performs: "You Make Me Feel Brand New" and "Stop, Look, Listen".

It's odd, but more and more I'm finding songs that Mathis did first that end up hits for somebody else. The two Thom Bell songs I know from the Stylistics; "Fallen", from the Once in a While album, ended up in a movie and became a hit (not for Mathis); recently I discovered that Al Wilson's "Show and Tell" was recorded after Mathis's version which appeared on his Killing Me Softly album. Same song, same PRODUCER, same guy mixed it. Guess which one was the hit?

The thought of John Scott Lavender trying to sound like Russell Thompkins, Jr. of the Stylistics is hilarious, but he really doesn't do that bad a job; Mathis is right to get someone else to tackle that than try to do it himself. Having said that though, I think that it wouldn't hurt the song if they just left the high part out altogether and had Mathis just sing it himself unaccompanied; after all, Mathis doesn't do a bad job of it with his lower-registered voice.

It's the Gil Reigers show at this point. "99 Miles from L.A." and the slowed-down "Twelfth of Never". Mathis takes his guitarist by the hand afterwards while the audience applauds.

After Reigers fades into the background, Mathis introduces the rest of the band. Then he goes into what I like to call "the Brazilian Medley", Manha da Amanha, from "Black Orpheus", and the show-stopping "Brazil", recently featured on his "Ultimate Hits".

"Long Ago and Far Away" is the last song of the night. He's been ending the show with that one a lot lately, from what I've been told. It's a good song, from his tandem album with Henry Mancini called "The Hollywood Musicals."

Well, that's it! The audience is most appreciative, we stand and applaud, he bows, gives one final wave, and off he goes. The audience continues to clap for him, but he's not coming back. No encore, no nothing. I look at the watch. Wow! It's eleven o'clock. I need to get home.

I watched Mathis as he descended the stairs, and I don't really see where he goes at this point...good God where CAN he go? They probably have him going to a locker room with all the hockey equipment. How horrible! I wouldn't blame him if he got off the stage, immediately went out to a waiting limousine and told the driver "Get me the hell out of here!". I even don't want to think about it. In fact, at this point, I'm so jazzed I'm trying to think of how I'm going to tone down to get to sleep when I get back home. I've got to get up and go to work in five hours!

Ambience aside, though, I was really, really pleased with Mathis' performance. It's the Mathis I want to see, the one I want others to see, when I go to his concerts. Looking healthy, sounding great. Had I brought a guest with me who had never been to a Mathis show, I wouldn't have been embarrassed at all. I would have been proud to show this man off, because my neophyte guest would have witness near-perfection. My neighbor, who borrowed my field glasses, said he hadn't seen him in twenty years. He said he wasn't disappointed. Neither was I.

Mathis' effort was genuinely appreciated by the Oklahoma audience, too, I'm proud to say! It was refreshing not to see so much of the seemingly-staged applause after he hits every high note that I've witnessed at other venues. Maybe I'm overly suspicious, but especially in the cities with large, established "appreciation societies" in place, it seems to me as if the audience has been trained to respond like Pavlov's dogs as if on cue at strategic points throughout the show. Thankfully, Oklahoma City's applause seemed to me quite genuine and untainted by politics. Oklahoma was glad to see him again, and they showed it.

As for me? Well. It was so good to see him again...it's like his being there brought a little bit of, I don't know, it's like things will be all right. After what I had gone through I really needed that. It's very hard to explain. I'm very glad I went to see him, and I'm very, very glad he came, to the middle of the country, to a city with absolutely no provisions for an artist of his caliber, to a sports arena that was being refurbished, in the rain, just so I could see him. I feel so honored. THANK YOU MR. MATHIS!