I am the very model of a modern opera singer

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I hardly ever use the big, big "D" word. Really, hardly ever. Except when the situation demands it, like if my beloved and beautiful daughter were making noises about running away with a simple foremast sailor aboard a British man-of-war at the height of English civility or at least at the peak of humorous anecdotes about the silliness of rank and privilege when compared with the love of the human heart. All viewed from the quarterdeck of the H.M.S. Pinafore.

In September a friend extracted from me a promise that I would attempt to sing in an opera. After a long series of e-mails and scheduling modifications, I find myself standing on the stage at the Gallo Center for the Arts during rehearsals for the Townsend Opera Players' production of Gilbert and Sullivan's operetta "H.M.S. Pinafore."

Perhaps their best known and possibly most beloved, and certainly the most familiar (and funniest) of their works, "Pinafore" has stood the test of time with a story as old as time. Rich girl loves poor boy; she is courted by rich, spoiled boy but spurns him in favor of the poor boy despite the social stigma and potential embarrassment, and so let the comedic brouhaha ensue.

It's a family show, with much controversy over one simple word, the D-word, which the gallant captain utters upon discovering his daughter's intention to steal away with one of the simple foremast hands.

In the world of community theater, I am something of a neophyte, and in the world of opera I would definitely qualify as a much more competent audience member as opposed to a British sailor on the end of the chorus line.

Yet I find myself having a great deal of fun, even the intense moments of rehearsal with folks who do this for a living.

As I stumble through a number trying to remember if Captain Corcoran is gallant or if he is just well bred (he's both, depending on the verse), I realize that this was always supposed to be about making people enjoy the moment and find that in life, as in theater, there is something to be learned.

There is also something magical about the stage at the Gallo Center. Every valley resident ought to have the chance to stand here and face an audience. It is enthralling and humbling at the same time.

In one of the most emotional moments for me, even as I turned the wrong way again and bumped the whole line of sailors out of position, earning me a deserved chewing-out by the director, I heard beside me a voice that I knew well laughing and reminding me that he wanted me to do this because he knew that I would have fun.

And the late Buck Townsend was right: It is fun.

Bowman is a former submarine weapons specialist who lives in Modesto. E-mail him at columns@modbee.com.