It felt like a small miracle to me, Maria and I drove into town and parked on Main Street and walked across the street to Hubbard Hall, the beautiful old opera house preserved by good samaritans decades ago and we saw a modernized opera, or a mix of operas – “Le Nozze Di Figaro and Gianni Schicchi,” music by Giacomo Puccini and set in Florence in 1299 with some modern touches – Playboy Magazine. It is a comedic story of a nasty and feuding family and a wily outsider who outsmarts them at their own game – greed.

What is miraculous about this opera was that we went to see it in our little town at 2 p.m. – about 2,000 people live here – in this gorgeous old mostly restored vaudeville house (they called them opera houses to keep the ministers off their back). Hubbard Hall is a couple of miles down the road, and we were back home by 3:30 doing the farm chores. It was easier than going to the market for groceries. I used to love opera, but eventually found opera productions too elaborate, lengthy, expensive and cumbersome, I came to see opera as the private cultural preserve of the rich. I just drifted away from it. To me, Lincoln Center became a monument to dying and subsidized culture.

In Hubbard Hall, though, it felt like I was experiencing opera in my own living room – this small company turned out a full orchestra and a large and polished cast of terrific singers and voices. I loved the music, I was closing my eyes and tamping my feet, you could cry sometimes, it felt so beautiful.

This experience of opera was extraordinarily intimate and comfortable, it fit so well into the ethos of a small town, it was beautifully produced and presented, yet it was about as far as one could get from the Met in New York City in tone, feeling and informality. The singers were practically in our laps, we could see the sweat forming on their brows. The orchestra and conductor were right behind the small set, I could see the conductor peering out at the singers to get her cues.

A miracle, I said to Maria, that this was a few minutes from our house, and that this community arts center – I am a proud faculty member, I teach writing and blog  workshops there – could put on such a production and already have sold out two performances (three, I think, counting tonight.) In rural America, or almost anywhere in America, that is a miracle. This is a nice place to live, creativity matters here, and we have a beautiful old opera house that keeps it alive.