I gave a series of concerts in the Art Room of the Hennepin Avenue Methodist Church. One was all-Mozart, one all-Bach, and in a third was mixed. As I put up posters everywhere from Orchestra Hall to Dinkytown, the hang-up phone calls to the phone number I had posted continued, as well as the ongoing shunning by Monostatos and other players. I became concerned, not only for my own well-being, but for that of my children.
The man I call “Monostatos” had enlisted the MO lawyers to try to keep from having to pay child support for the children he had so enthusiastically adopted just over a year earlier. He had also threatened my life on a number of occasions, including two which involved calling the Police in Hopkins, where we lived. I did not press charges at that time because I had no doubt that I would not live to see my children grow up if I did. For the same foolish reason I also did not ask for a restraining order. I decided to go under the radar and protect my children.
Our lives were not easy. All of this was extremely difficult for my children, who are the most flexible and good-natured people that I know…to this day. All the hopes they had for a stable environment, as well as mine for them, came crushing down on us, while Monostatos and his colleagues played on as if nothing had happened. I felt as though, by deliberately denying our credentials, they were taking food from the mouths of my children. In fact, I found a cruel irony in their vigorous complaints about all the hardships they had to endure during their own 18-month lockout.
But then, that is how the Zauberflote works — what others intend for us becomes their own fate…