Last night, I didn’t go to the football game — even though I already had a ticket. I went to support my friend and colleague , Jeff Lockwood. We were both Netjle Fellows, and I first learned about his work when I served as Dean of Arts & Sciences.

People may never fully understand why a biochemist loves the arts as fiercely as I do. But the truth is simple: the arts saved me. I was just a few credits shy of a minor in vocal performance at NC State (forgive me if I’m misremembering the exact title). During the times when I felt “othered,” it was music that kept me sane. I might have been one of the first African American undergrads to finish the Biochemistry degree, but theater, dance, and music were my refuge — my saving grace.

The opera I saw last night is absolutely worth seeing. Jeff, the librettist, welcomed us with context and warmth, joined by Pete Gosar of the Downtown Clinic. The Prelude, offered by UW trauma psychologist Dr. Gray, was unforgettable. His reflection on going from “hunter to prey,” from “theory to experience,” from “doctor to patient,” grounded the entire performance in the reality of hope born from suffering.

The opening scene, The Waiting Room, captures that tension — being a patient, clinging to hope, waiting for news, wrestling with the possibility of a miracle. This is where we meet the music of composer Michael Udow and the extraordinary five-piece ensemble of UW faculty musicians. Two of them (John Fadial and Beth Vanderborgh) I proudly supported during their trip to Carnegie Hall when I was Dean. The newer faces — Jiwon Han, Sophia Meda, and Ros McIntosh — were equally flawless.

Then came the voices.

Thomas Bocchi — even in his Colorado Buffalo gear — was fascinating to hear. His diction was so clear the projected text felt unnecessary. His tone reminded me of Justin Timberlake: soothing, warm, and deeply pleasing.

Dante Mireles brought power and levity. His one-liners broke the tension at just the right moments, giving us space to chuckle and to think.

But the voice that stole the night was Magdalena Wor. She has a technique that sends chills straight through you. Her lower register is bold and rich — rare for a mezzo — and her high notes were clean, defined, and luminous. She projects effortlessly across her entire range. I could have listened to her sing the phone book. I remembered her from the Virginia Opera, but I didn’t know she was now in Wyoming. Bravo, UW. You chose well.

I won’t analyze the remaining acts, except to say this: by the end, I was crying. The opera moves through hurt and arrives at Kintsugi — the art of mending broken things with gold — a metaphor for healing mind, body, and soul.

If you are carrying hurt, if you are cracked in places no one sees, stop by the Gryphon Theatre at 710 E. Garfield in Laramie. You will get the medicine you need — trust me.

~ Camellia Moses Okpodu (a former Arts & Sciences Dean)