While trying to entertain my just turned one-year-old daughter recently, I handed her a stick of frozen butter, still in the wrapper, that I had just pulled out of the freezer. Thinking she would enjoy the cold wrapper on her hands, I returned to my task. A few minutes later I glanced over to see the stick of butter in her mouth, large chunks missing in several places. Her little mouth was greasy, and she was happily chewing on both butter and paper. When I pried the cold butter from her hands, she wailed like life had ended.
Once upon a time, my daughter’s cries related primarily to her needs. She cried when she needed a diaper change, food, or a nap. Now she is realizing that there are things she wants—to play with a certain toy, to chew on a certain book (or stick of butter), or to jam her finger into the electrical outlet—and when someone (most often me) stands in her way, she vocalizes her dismay with gusto!
In my daughter’s short book of life, needs and wants are all the same. When either one is not met, boy, can she howl. Part of growing up, of course, is learning to discern between needs and wants—a lesson I hope to teach her in the coming years.
Tenor Michael Fabiano learned this lesson from his successful businessman father, as he shares with Greg Waxberg in this month’s cover story (p. 18). “He [Fabiano’s father] lives religiously by the principle that one must prioritize needs over wants,” Fabiano relates. “He always insisted that I make priorities and execute them with precision. I learned that idea early, thankfully, and I apply it to my career. I always ask myself, ‘Do I need to do this? Do I need to have this?’ If I don’t, I table it . . . .”
This practical approach has helped Fabiano make critical decisions along his career path. As he approached graduation from the prestigious Academy of Vocal Arts, many told Fabiano to pursue Young Artist Programs rather than hire a manager at such a young age. But Fabiano, wanting professional experiences, ignored their advice and hired the manager. Now with hindsight, Fabiano sees that what others perceived as a need for his career progression was really a want. Looking back, he has no regrets.
Many other singers, however, are finding the YAP experience to be exactly what they need. Megan Gloss highlights four such singers who tell of the important lessons learned and skills developed participating in two different YAPs (p. 36). Gloss also highlights six other YAPs who are meeting the needs both singers and arts education through their outreach programs (p. 28).
Learning to differentiate between needs and wants can indeed help us prioritize. Cindy Sadler writes of a terrific opportunity at her university that many singers intentionally missed out on (p. 16). Thinking of such opportunities in terms of needs and wants is the difference between saying, “I wanted to go, but something more important came up” and “I need this experience, so nothing else will get in the way.”
My family loves to tell the story about when I was a little girl of 2 or 3, and while everyone’s eyes were closed for our dinnertime prayer, I reached up, grabbed the stick of butter lying innocently on the table, and happily took a big bite out of it. Like mother, like daughter.
In an age of first-world problems, learning to discern between needs and wants might just prove our biggest challenge. Whether we are 1 year old, 80 years old, or anywhere in between, we must continually re-evaluate our desires in terms of needs and wants. Doing that, I hope, will help me to pass on more to my daughter than simply my love of butter.
