And so tomorrow I go back to Virginia. This has been my longest season ever. I've never stayed three days into the post-season before. It's a whole new place. . . . and yet it is the same place. Only quieter, and sleepier.
I'm sitting on the 2nd floor balcony of the Disciples house. I've stayed here in years past before I came for the full season. Betty and David who run the place are dear friends. It took me staying here to even get to see them this season. That's how it is at Chautauqua.
From my perch I can see the roof of the amphitheater. Totally empty now. All the benches deserted. Nobody warming up. No stage crew running around getting ready for the next thing. It has stood in that location for a very long time. And now they are talking renovation for this icon of the grounds. We don't know when the actual construction will start. But for people up here it is excruciating to give up something that has stood for decades. Yes, the benches are uncomfortable. Yes there are support posts that block the views from some of the seats. Yes the storms cause a large portion of the audience to get wet, even under cover. Yes, it smells of must and bat droppings. And still we don't want to part with it.
Below me is the brick walk. . . the main walking thoroughfare connecting all the major buildings on the grounds. No bikes or vehicles allowed. There are no people walking there tonight. I can't hear snippets of conversation as people leave a lecture and keep the conversation going. I don't hear children and dogs playfully dodging the walkers or those on scooters.
I can hear the bell tower chiming the quarter hours. Carolyn, the bell ringer has gone home, so no songs are coming from there at 8 in the morning, and 6 and 10 each night.
The regular season is over, but other things are starting. Today I walked down to the Atheneum Hotel to see the arrival of the seniors participating in the chorus/dance/theater program called Encore. And in stark contrast the "major league fishermen" have arrived in huge 4-wheel-drive vehicles, bedecked with graphics of advertisers. They look like Nascar folks. The fishermen are wearing jackets adorned with the names and logos of their sponsors. More cigarettes in that group than have been on the grounds all summer. I guess they are going to fish competitively in the lake in the next few days. Who knew?
As for us, the "interim" librarians, we have put away the music, weeded out old moldy music for disposal, and put all the detritus of a choir season to bed for the winter. We could have done more. But we knew when to stop. And if Jared is successful in getting us a fair pay rate next summer, we will be back doing the job again.
Nancy and Jared and Janet and I had our last lunch at the fancy La Fleur restaurant. We invited Jared to be our guest, but he double-crossed us at the door when we weren't paying attention and told the waitress to let us pay for his lunch, but then he paid for the rest of us. We'll have to plan that better next year. . . . . .
Day is dying in the west (as we sing every Sunday night to start the Sacred Song Service) and I'm going to retire, get up and try to leave by 6:00. It's been my best season ever at Chautauqua. But I must move forward. If I get out of here at 6, I'll be able to join Sandy at the Afton Mountain Winery for "Thursdays at 3:00." I've missed 10 of those now, and it's time to get back in the groove. And it's time to face the music with George the Trainer. My working out and eating pristinely took a hit starting about week 4. Oh well. . . back on the horse.
Goodbye Chautauqua. You are my heart and soul. I look forward to missing you. I'll be back in 10 months. My cup of gratitude overflows.
Wednesday, August 29, 2012
Wednesday, August 22, 2012
THE PERFECT DAY
It seems silly to call this the perfect day because then what have all the other blissful days at Chautauqua been, if not perfect?
But this is hump day of week 9, the last themed week of the summer, and the days events unfolded in the most glorious and memorable way.
Earlier I wrote a blog about "Just Saying Yes." Because as it turns out, I have loved my library job.
Last night at dinner at Andriaccio's Italian Restaurant, so close to the grounds that we can walk there, Jared and the three librarians re-enacted the evening during week 2 when we had our beginning of the season discussion. Only this time we were 8 weeks better friends than we had been back then. And among other things discussed, we mutually decided that we loved the job enough, and Jared loved us doing the job enough, to agree to go again next summer. That felt really good. And allowed us to have discussions aimed at closing out this summer with next summer in mind.
So after that lovely evening I woke up this clear, crisp, sweatshirt demanding morning and walked over to the amp, as I do every weekday morning. We set up our third-to-the-last Motet Choir rehearsal, practiced a piece, and sang it at the church service. I have enjoyed singing in this choir. It's not the Choral Arts Society, but it has it's own personality, culture, and challenges. Learning a piece every single day during the week and performing it after one rehearsal has been fun and not at all easy.
After choir when we finally got all the music put away, I attended the lecture. It was Lynda Johnson Robb and Susan Ford Bales. . . . presidential daughters who gave the most delightful talk about what it was like to have a father as president. Both of these fathers took over their presidencies under traumatic conditions. Both of these women were young women at the time. . . Lynda was in college when JFK was assassinated. She had the most fascinating story about being in college and finding out about the death of JFK and what happened next. Susan was a senior in high school when she was thrust into the life at the White House. I remember all these years vividly as I was a young woman at the time also. So to see these women and hear their stories was wonderful. Chuck Robb (former governor of Virginina) and Susan's husband were in the audience. Both women were very poised and funny. . . particularly Lynda Robb. So that was a memorable lecture. Perfect!
Next was Jared's final organ recital in the amp. He had told me that he needed me to turn pages for all 4 pieces. I was still feeling the post traumatic stress of having turned for last week's concert. I guess I never blogged about that. But it was a scary ride for sure. He played the music of Franz Liszt which can tend to whiz by. The score is nothing but black notes that move at a breakneck speed. And then he opens a score called (I'm not making this up) "Death Dance" which is really a piece written for two pianos. There is no pedal part in the score (when the going gets tough I follow the pedal part!). He's flying through this piece playing a little from both parts. It is virtually impossible to follow this music. All I could do was hang on for dear life and hope to not mess him up. After that performance last week, I was seriously doubting my competence to do this job. But he needed me today. So I remembered my favorite graphic which shows the big circle that has written inside "Where the magic happens." Then separated from the circle is a little square that says "Your comfort zone." So I boldly walked up to that organ and faced down my demons (solidly out of my comfort zone). And boy did the magic happen! The four pieces were challenging but follow-able (not sure that's a word). And one of them was the spectacular Franck Chorale in a minor, which I played on my junior recital in college. To be up there watching that score go by as Jared played it was like seeing a long lost friend that you had loved from college but had not seen in 40 years. My fingers practically itched with the memories of how it felt to play that piece. It was all I could do not to just be reduced to tears during the playing of that one. What a gift to me. And then the last two pieces went well and were spectacular. Even the finale, again by that wild Mr. Franz Liszt who traumatized me the week before. But I held on tight and was transfixed and transported by the splendor of the music and by Jared's virtuosity. I floated out of that amphitheater and straight into the company of my choir friends who had attended the concert and were waiting for me.
Because we had been invited out on the lake for a boat ride by one of the tenors in the choir. I have been longing, no aching, to get out on that lake every summer since I started coming here. And now, as a choir librarian, I was in the select group that was invited to get on the pontoon boat for a 30 minute ride to Bemis Point across the lake where we docked and had lunch at a restaurant called the Italian Fisherman. Such a nice time. Complete with spiked coffee for the boat trip back. Sweaters were needed, but sun was shining brightly. Paul drove us north so that we could see the complete shoreline of Chautauqua from the water. Such a blissfully fun getaway!
I got home in time to get ready to go see the last classic movie! It was The Mortal Storm with Jimmy Stewart and Margaret Sullavan. Not a happy topic. . .pre Nazi Germany, but a wonderful movie. Had never heard of it. So glad I saw it.
The Capitol Steps perform in the amp tonight. I'm going to complete my perfect day by NOT going to see them. For some reason I find no humor at all politics these days. I'm so tired of the whole thing that I don't even want to see anybody make up funny songs about it.
Nancy's coming over for a glass of wine on the porch. The perfect ending. In a week I'll be home and Brigadoon will fade away for another year. And I will always remember how this beautiful day made me feel. From beginning to end.
But this is hump day of week 9, the last themed week of the summer, and the days events unfolded in the most glorious and memorable way.
Earlier I wrote a blog about "Just Saying Yes." Because as it turns out, I have loved my library job.
Last night at dinner at Andriaccio's Italian Restaurant, so close to the grounds that we can walk there, Jared and the three librarians re-enacted the evening during week 2 when we had our beginning of the season discussion. Only this time we were 8 weeks better friends than we had been back then. And among other things discussed, we mutually decided that we loved the job enough, and Jared loved us doing the job enough, to agree to go again next summer. That felt really good. And allowed us to have discussions aimed at closing out this summer with next summer in mind.
So after that lovely evening I woke up this clear, crisp, sweatshirt demanding morning and walked over to the amp, as I do every weekday morning. We set up our third-to-the-last Motet Choir rehearsal, practiced a piece, and sang it at the church service. I have enjoyed singing in this choir. It's not the Choral Arts Society, but it has it's own personality, culture, and challenges. Learning a piece every single day during the week and performing it after one rehearsal has been fun and not at all easy.
After choir when we finally got all the music put away, I attended the lecture. It was Lynda Johnson Robb and Susan Ford Bales. . . . presidential daughters who gave the most delightful talk about what it was like to have a father as president. Both of these fathers took over their presidencies under traumatic conditions. Both of these women were young women at the time. . . Lynda was in college when JFK was assassinated. She had the most fascinating story about being in college and finding out about the death of JFK and what happened next. Susan was a senior in high school when she was thrust into the life at the White House. I remember all these years vividly as I was a young woman at the time also. So to see these women and hear their stories was wonderful. Chuck Robb (former governor of Virginina) and Susan's husband were in the audience. Both women were very poised and funny. . . particularly Lynda Robb. So that was a memorable lecture. Perfect!
Next was Jared's final organ recital in the amp. He had told me that he needed me to turn pages for all 4 pieces. I was still feeling the post traumatic stress of having turned for last week's concert. I guess I never blogged about that. But it was a scary ride for sure. He played the music of Franz Liszt which can tend to whiz by. The score is nothing but black notes that move at a breakneck speed. And then he opens a score called (I'm not making this up) "Death Dance" which is really a piece written for two pianos. There is no pedal part in the score (when the going gets tough I follow the pedal part!). He's flying through this piece playing a little from both parts. It is virtually impossible to follow this music. All I could do was hang on for dear life and hope to not mess him up. After that performance last week, I was seriously doubting my competence to do this job. But he needed me today. So I remembered my favorite graphic which shows the big circle that has written inside "Where the magic happens." Then separated from the circle is a little square that says "Your comfort zone." So I boldly walked up to that organ and faced down my demons (solidly out of my comfort zone). And boy did the magic happen! The four pieces were challenging but follow-able (not sure that's a word). And one of them was the spectacular Franck Chorale in a minor, which I played on my junior recital in college. To be up there watching that score go by as Jared played it was like seeing a long lost friend that you had loved from college but had not seen in 40 years. My fingers practically itched with the memories of how it felt to play that piece. It was all I could do not to just be reduced to tears during the playing of that one. What a gift to me. And then the last two pieces went well and were spectacular. Even the finale, again by that wild Mr. Franz Liszt who traumatized me the week before. But I held on tight and was transfixed and transported by the splendor of the music and by Jared's virtuosity. I floated out of that amphitheater and straight into the company of my choir friends who had attended the concert and were waiting for me.
Because we had been invited out on the lake for a boat ride by one of the tenors in the choir. I have been longing, no aching, to get out on that lake every summer since I started coming here. And now, as a choir librarian, I was in the select group that was invited to get on the pontoon boat for a 30 minute ride to Bemis Point across the lake where we docked and had lunch at a restaurant called the Italian Fisherman. Such a nice time. Complete with spiked coffee for the boat trip back. Sweaters were needed, but sun was shining brightly. Paul drove us north so that we could see the complete shoreline of Chautauqua from the water. Such a blissfully fun getaway!
I got home in time to get ready to go see the last classic movie! It was The Mortal Storm with Jimmy Stewart and Margaret Sullavan. Not a happy topic. . .pre Nazi Germany, but a wonderful movie. Had never heard of it. So glad I saw it.
The Capitol Steps perform in the amp tonight. I'm going to complete my perfect day by NOT going to see them. For some reason I find no humor at all politics these days. I'm so tired of the whole thing that I don't even want to see anybody make up funny songs about it.
Nancy's coming over for a glass of wine on the porch. The perfect ending. In a week I'll be home and Brigadoon will fade away for another year. And I will always remember how this beautiful day made me feel. From beginning to end.
Saturday, August 11, 2012
NECESSARY MELANCHOLY
Before I start I just want to mention that I don't think I've ever gotten 8 syllables out of two words in a title before. Of course I haven't checked.
It's Saturday afternoon at the end of week 7. I have been to the gym and Wegmans. There is cabbage cooking on the stove and Les Miserables on the IPhone/IPod. It's a grey day with occasional misting showers. And it's a perfect set up for the close-to-the-end-of-the-season melancholy.
The list of all that I've seen and done so far this summer would be pretty long. And yet, I can hardly believe that we begin the second to the last week tomorrow.
During week 8 the last play closes, the opera company finished up last week, the orchestra has the final concerts this week, the dance company has their last concert as well. All the interns are packing up to get back to school. . . including Amazing Grace, the intern we have had for help with weekend choir rehearsals. The good news about Grace is that she is attending graduate school at the University of Virginia, and we have already made plans to meet for lunch in the near future. She scored one of the historic "dorm" rooms as designed by Mr. Jefferson. Can't wait for her to show me her digs. This is a testimony to the strength of her graduate school application resume. But I'm not surprised. . . she came into our job and just mastered it the first night. Tonight I do the job without her, and I'm more than a little nervous. I would have never been assigned one of the historic rooms!!!
The evenings are getting a little darker earlier. The leaves are already showing signs of wanting to change color. When we sing "Day Is Dying In the West" at the beginning of every Sunday evening Sacred Song Service, the day has died a little bit more with every passing week.
All of the signs that soon we must depart this Brigadoon so that it can close down, go to sleep and wake up again next June.
So yeah, it's a little bit sad. My summer family will be absorbed into the mist to be relegated to emails and Facebook postings over the next 10 months.
But truth be told, I also have the sense that I don't want this to continue for the rest of the year. This is such a stimulus-rich environment. It is Utopia. But even Utopia gets to be mundane if it goes on and on. It needs to end so that we can be sad and then anticipate it for 10 months. So much joy when we all come back together. So much energy and enthusiasm to tackle the new season each summer. Without the melancholy, the joy doesn't come.
Hmmmm. . . . metaphor for life? I think so. Without the knowledge that in two weeks we will be cranking down the next two weeks would not be magic. I would not be consciously paying attention to each and every moment. I would not be treasuring every encounter with friends that I won't see for 10 months.
I truly try to live my life that way now. Treasuring and paying attention to each and every moment. Because at 63, there's way more behind me than ahead.
So welcome MELANCHOLY! You are a gift that reminds me to pay attention. Live in this moment. And for heavens sakes. . . . SNAP OUT OF IT!!! Being sad is no fun!!!
Nothing says "Stay in the moment" more than the smell of cabbage boiling too rapidly on the stove! LATER!!!!
It's Saturday afternoon at the end of week 7. I have been to the gym and Wegmans. There is cabbage cooking on the stove and Les Miserables on the IPhone/IPod. It's a grey day with occasional misting showers. And it's a perfect set up for the close-to-the-end-of-the-season melancholy.
The list of all that I've seen and done so far this summer would be pretty long. And yet, I can hardly believe that we begin the second to the last week tomorrow.
During week 8 the last play closes, the opera company finished up last week, the orchestra has the final concerts this week, the dance company has their last concert as well. All the interns are packing up to get back to school. . . including Amazing Grace, the intern we have had for help with weekend choir rehearsals. The good news about Grace is that she is attending graduate school at the University of Virginia, and we have already made plans to meet for lunch in the near future. She scored one of the historic "dorm" rooms as designed by Mr. Jefferson. Can't wait for her to show me her digs. This is a testimony to the strength of her graduate school application resume. But I'm not surprised. . . she came into our job and just mastered it the first night. Tonight I do the job without her, and I'm more than a little nervous. I would have never been assigned one of the historic rooms!!!
The evenings are getting a little darker earlier. The leaves are already showing signs of wanting to change color. When we sing "Day Is Dying In the West" at the beginning of every Sunday evening Sacred Song Service, the day has died a little bit more with every passing week.
All of the signs that soon we must depart this Brigadoon so that it can close down, go to sleep and wake up again next June.
So yeah, it's a little bit sad. My summer family will be absorbed into the mist to be relegated to emails and Facebook postings over the next 10 months.
But truth be told, I also have the sense that I don't want this to continue for the rest of the year. This is such a stimulus-rich environment. It is Utopia. But even Utopia gets to be mundane if it goes on and on. It needs to end so that we can be sad and then anticipate it for 10 months. So much joy when we all come back together. So much energy and enthusiasm to tackle the new season each summer. Without the melancholy, the joy doesn't come.
Hmmmm. . . . metaphor for life? I think so. Without the knowledge that in two weeks we will be cranking down the next two weeks would not be magic. I would not be consciously paying attention to each and every moment. I would not be treasuring every encounter with friends that I won't see for 10 months.
I truly try to live my life that way now. Treasuring and paying attention to each and every moment. Because at 63, there's way more behind me than ahead.
So welcome MELANCHOLY! You are a gift that reminds me to pay attention. Live in this moment. And for heavens sakes. . . . SNAP OUT OF IT!!! Being sad is no fun!!!
Nothing says "Stay in the moment" more than the smell of cabbage boiling too rapidly on the stove! LATER!!!!
Tuesday, August 7, 2012
TYLER AND JARED
Two men. One my age, almost exactly. One just barely a man. . . . . maybe early 20's.
Jared I've spoken about. Born in the same year I was. Virtuoso organist. Child prodigy. This year he's my boss and my choir director and my friend.
Tyler. . . stage hand. He's tall and lean and warm and friendly. Most even- tempered young guy ever. He is all smiles, and positive energy. Never says no to any request. Does everything with a smile on his face. Turns out in addition to working full time on the stage crew in the amp, he also lives on a farm. And by the time he gets here in the morning he's been up for hours doing his chores. Also turns out he has a pet bull which he recently rode in a bull-riding contest locally. He won 5th place. When asked how he got his "pet" bull to be angry enough to try to throw him off, he explained that the cinch around the middle for the saddle irritates a bull's "privates" in ways that make him "out of sorts" in the extreme! The things I learn at Chautauqua.
So these two guys, Jared and Tyler played a part in a brief drama this morning during church that was one of the most wondrous things I've seen up here. And if you've been reading for the last couple of years, you know that there is no dearth of wondrous things to see up here.
So the choir files into the choir loft for the daily church service. I noticed right off that sitting in the front row this morning was none other than Andrew Young, civil rights activist, former UN Ambassador, former Atlanta mayor. He spoke this afternoon. It was a thrill to sing for him! But that wasn't the amazing thing (imagine. . .that NOT being the amazing thing!).
Apparently after the opera production last night in the Amp, all the microphones and hook-ups were all catty-wompus. Which meant that the choir member who was supposed to be the scripture reader and who was supposed to read the scripture from the choir loft using a floor microphone, was going to be unable to do that. Which was not discovered until after the service had started.
Now having set that scenario, let me digress a minute. . . As most of you know, I was an organ major in college. I only started playing the organ my freshman year because I needed a minor. I wasn't that good on piano which was my major! But I loved organ from the start and just wanted to practice it all the time. So I switched it to my major in the middle of my freshman year. And then switched to a performance major at the end of my freshman year. Learning the organ is difficult. What I found most difficult was playing hymns. You had to play the bass line with your feet, and I just wasn't that experienced. So playing in church services was always a source of huge amounts of anxiety. I know, now that I'm 63, that if I had played for years and years, I would have eventually become a competent hymn player. But I quit altogether before I could get there.
So here comes Jared. Our service books for the daily services has hundreds of hymns. At least 60% of them are printed with only the words. . . no music. Jared plays all of those by memory, or maybe by ear - probably a little of both. Which means he's only looking at words when he plays. He modulates keys, improvises between verses, plays them in different styles and moods depending on the service. For someone like me who struggled so badly with hymn playing, to see this guy do this with such ease and virtuosity and creativity is a marvel of nature each and every service.
So back to the story. Poor sweet, sensitive, competent Tyler was faced this morning with a microphone that didn't work. He needed to let the choir member who was going to read the scripture know that the mike didn't work. He didn't know which choir member it was, and we were already in the loft for the service. His only option, as he saw it, was to go out on the stage and ask Jared, who was at the organ, to tell him which choir member he needed to see. Jared, by that time, had launched into the introductory verse of the hymn. One of the ones that has words only. He's about 6 bars into it and here comes our own little sweet cowboy, Tyler, creeping on the stage and around the organ. Jared does not skip one single beat. He sees Tyler, looks him directly in the eye as Tyler asks about the choir member. Jared then turns his head 180 degrees up to the choir to see where Mary Ellen is sitting, turns back to Tyler and describes to him where she is sitting, at which time Tyler turns and sneaks back off the stage. The whole time he is having this CONVERSATION his hands and feet continue to play the hymn. We are up in the choir loft watching all this go down with our mouths dropped to the floor. Once Tyler has gone, Jared just continues to the end of the verse, cranks up the volume and leads the congregation into the singing.
For me who struggled with hymn playing this is like watching a miracle. It certainly drives home the notion that there are certain gifts that people get at birth that will remain a mystery to others. Most people in the congregation missed this exchange. And maybe no one who wasn't a musician would have appreciated the unbelievable demonstration of talent that it represented.
I've seen big stuff here. . . . . big stars, operas, New York level plays, international celebrities, breathtaking virtuosity and talent. But nothing I've seen anywhere can eclipse that 30 seconds of magic brought to us by Tyler and Jared.
Jared I've spoken about. Born in the same year I was. Virtuoso organist. Child prodigy. This year he's my boss and my choir director and my friend.
Tyler. . . stage hand. He's tall and lean and warm and friendly. Most even- tempered young guy ever. He is all smiles, and positive energy. Never says no to any request. Does everything with a smile on his face. Turns out in addition to working full time on the stage crew in the amp, he also lives on a farm. And by the time he gets here in the morning he's been up for hours doing his chores. Also turns out he has a pet bull which he recently rode in a bull-riding contest locally. He won 5th place. When asked how he got his "pet" bull to be angry enough to try to throw him off, he explained that the cinch around the middle for the saddle irritates a bull's "privates" in ways that make him "out of sorts" in the extreme! The things I learn at Chautauqua.
So these two guys, Jared and Tyler played a part in a brief drama this morning during church that was one of the most wondrous things I've seen up here. And if you've been reading for the last couple of years, you know that there is no dearth of wondrous things to see up here.
So the choir files into the choir loft for the daily church service. I noticed right off that sitting in the front row this morning was none other than Andrew Young, civil rights activist, former UN Ambassador, former Atlanta mayor. He spoke this afternoon. It was a thrill to sing for him! But that wasn't the amazing thing (imagine. . .that NOT being the amazing thing!).
Apparently after the opera production last night in the Amp, all the microphones and hook-ups were all catty-wompus. Which meant that the choir member who was supposed to be the scripture reader and who was supposed to read the scripture from the choir loft using a floor microphone, was going to be unable to do that. Which was not discovered until after the service had started.
Now having set that scenario, let me digress a minute. . . As most of you know, I was an organ major in college. I only started playing the organ my freshman year because I needed a minor. I wasn't that good on piano which was my major! But I loved organ from the start and just wanted to practice it all the time. So I switched it to my major in the middle of my freshman year. And then switched to a performance major at the end of my freshman year. Learning the organ is difficult. What I found most difficult was playing hymns. You had to play the bass line with your feet, and I just wasn't that experienced. So playing in church services was always a source of huge amounts of anxiety. I know, now that I'm 63, that if I had played for years and years, I would have eventually become a competent hymn player. But I quit altogether before I could get there.
So here comes Jared. Our service books for the daily services has hundreds of hymns. At least 60% of them are printed with only the words. . . no music. Jared plays all of those by memory, or maybe by ear - probably a little of both. Which means he's only looking at words when he plays. He modulates keys, improvises between verses, plays them in different styles and moods depending on the service. For someone like me who struggled so badly with hymn playing, to see this guy do this with such ease and virtuosity and creativity is a marvel of nature each and every service.
So back to the story. Poor sweet, sensitive, competent Tyler was faced this morning with a microphone that didn't work. He needed to let the choir member who was going to read the scripture know that the mike didn't work. He didn't know which choir member it was, and we were already in the loft for the service. His only option, as he saw it, was to go out on the stage and ask Jared, who was at the organ, to tell him which choir member he needed to see. Jared, by that time, had launched into the introductory verse of the hymn. One of the ones that has words only. He's about 6 bars into it and here comes our own little sweet cowboy, Tyler, creeping on the stage and around the organ. Jared does not skip one single beat. He sees Tyler, looks him directly in the eye as Tyler asks about the choir member. Jared then turns his head 180 degrees up to the choir to see where Mary Ellen is sitting, turns back to Tyler and describes to him where she is sitting, at which time Tyler turns and sneaks back off the stage. The whole time he is having this CONVERSATION his hands and feet continue to play the hymn. We are up in the choir loft watching all this go down with our mouths dropped to the floor. Once Tyler has gone, Jared just continues to the end of the verse, cranks up the volume and leads the congregation into the singing.
For me who struggled with hymn playing this is like watching a miracle. It certainly drives home the notion that there are certain gifts that people get at birth that will remain a mystery to others. Most people in the congregation missed this exchange. And maybe no one who wasn't a musician would have appreciated the unbelievable demonstration of talent that it represented.
I've seen big stuff here. . . . . big stars, operas, New York level plays, international celebrities, breathtaking virtuosity and talent. But nothing I've seen anywhere can eclipse that 30 seconds of magic brought to us by Tyler and Jared.
Wednesday, August 1, 2012
JUST SAY YES!
This has happened to me over and over in my life. Somebody calls me out of the blue and offers me a job or asks me to do something and my first reaction is: NO WAY!!! Don't want to do it. Won't do it. You can't make me.
My first teaching job. I wasn't qualified to teach! I didn't want it. I told them so.
My job teaching pregnant middle school girls. Are you kidding me?
Those are just two examples.
Early in June I got the call from an acquaintance from the choir up here in Chautauqua. She left a message. She wanted me to call her back about something. I was with Dave at the time. The only thing I could figure out was that they were going to try to pawn off this music library job on me. I told Dave. . .There's NO WAY I'm taking that job! I don't go to Chautauqua to work!
Turns out they were offering me 1/3 of that job. I still have no idea why my name came up with the other two. But it was NO, NO, NO from the beginning.
Until we started to chat about the job and my NO, NO, NO went to MAYBE, MAYBE, MAYBE and then to OKAY, BUT ONLY FOR ONE YEAR AND I'M NOT HAPPY ABOUT IT.
I need to trust that when the universe comes at me out of the blue to suggest something that was not formerly on my radar screen, I need to pay attention, and yell out a lusty YES in spite of all the voices in my head to the contrary.
Because now that I'm 6 weeks in, not only do I enjoy this job enough to accept doing it next year, but this week alone demonstrates why YES is a good answer.
On Monday, Jared took his librarians, their intern, and one of the husbands out to dinner at a restaurant in Mayville called Le Fleur. Fancy schmancy. With prices to match. French all the way, obviously. He had been there before and assured us it would be 1. his treat, and 2. an unforgettable dining experience.
Well I have had some fabulous meals in fancy and not so fancy restaurants. But nothing approaching this one. From the kir cocktails (champagne and lilac. . . the most amazing color of soft purple) to the breads before dinner, to the 1st course pear tart with mixed greens, to the rack of lamb, to the sublime Shiraz that accompanied my dinner, to the key lime macaroons for dessert, and then the long stem red rose that each woman who dines there receives at the end, this was nearly 5 hours of pure dining bliss. Every morsel, every sip was memorable. And the conversation and laughter around the table was such a pleasant way to spend an evening. We all got to know each other outside the Chautauqua gates. Jared was showing his appreciation for our efforts thus far in the most extravagant way. I would not have been there for that evening if I had said no to the job!
My chance encounter with Peter and Paul last week would not have happened if I had not been on library business!
Today I turned pages for Jared's Massey concert. He played all Bach. Only my musician friends will appreciate that I turned pages for the magnificent Prelude and Fugue in Eb . . . .the St. Anne! An epic piece. I was so excited standing on that organ watching him play that piece that I almost forgot to keep track of the pages. Then he followed that with the behemoth Bach Passacaglia. OMG!!! I positively floated out of the amp after that experience. I would not have become Jared's page turner without the library job.
Tonight Nancy and I went to the choir room to stuff the folders for the weekend choir and the bluegrass band which performed Monday night while we were at the restaurant was back to accompany an extended dance piece called "Shindig" for tonight's dance concert. While we began getting the music ready, they began warming up and practicing in the same room. Live professional bluegrass music 10 feet away from us. They played for about 20 minutes while we danced around sorting music. I was in hog heaven. I adore bluegrass. I know that somewhere out there my daddy was appreciating that I was in that room with those guys. Without the library job, I would not have had that experience.
The richness of my experience up here this year is eons more-so with this job. I could have never dreamed that something I didn't want to do so badly would end up so well.
No kidding. . . . just say YES!
My first teaching job. I wasn't qualified to teach! I didn't want it. I told them so.
My job teaching pregnant middle school girls. Are you kidding me?
Those are just two examples.
Early in June I got the call from an acquaintance from the choir up here in Chautauqua. She left a message. She wanted me to call her back about something. I was with Dave at the time. The only thing I could figure out was that they were going to try to pawn off this music library job on me. I told Dave. . .There's NO WAY I'm taking that job! I don't go to Chautauqua to work!
Turns out they were offering me 1/3 of that job. I still have no idea why my name came up with the other two. But it was NO, NO, NO from the beginning.
Until we started to chat about the job and my NO, NO, NO went to MAYBE, MAYBE, MAYBE and then to OKAY, BUT ONLY FOR ONE YEAR AND I'M NOT HAPPY ABOUT IT.
I need to trust that when the universe comes at me out of the blue to suggest something that was not formerly on my radar screen, I need to pay attention, and yell out a lusty YES in spite of all the voices in my head to the contrary.
Because now that I'm 6 weeks in, not only do I enjoy this job enough to accept doing it next year, but this week alone demonstrates why YES is a good answer.
On Monday, Jared took his librarians, their intern, and one of the husbands out to dinner at a restaurant in Mayville called Le Fleur. Fancy schmancy. With prices to match. French all the way, obviously. He had been there before and assured us it would be 1. his treat, and 2. an unforgettable dining experience.
Well I have had some fabulous meals in fancy and not so fancy restaurants. But nothing approaching this one. From the kir cocktails (champagne and lilac. . . the most amazing color of soft purple) to the breads before dinner, to the 1st course pear tart with mixed greens, to the rack of lamb, to the sublime Shiraz that accompanied my dinner, to the key lime macaroons for dessert, and then the long stem red rose that each woman who dines there receives at the end, this was nearly 5 hours of pure dining bliss. Every morsel, every sip was memorable. And the conversation and laughter around the table was such a pleasant way to spend an evening. We all got to know each other outside the Chautauqua gates. Jared was showing his appreciation for our efforts thus far in the most extravagant way. I would not have been there for that evening if I had said no to the job!
My chance encounter with Peter and Paul last week would not have happened if I had not been on library business!
Today I turned pages for Jared's Massey concert. He played all Bach. Only my musician friends will appreciate that I turned pages for the magnificent Prelude and Fugue in Eb . . . .the St. Anne! An epic piece. I was so excited standing on that organ watching him play that piece that I almost forgot to keep track of the pages. Then he followed that with the behemoth Bach Passacaglia. OMG!!! I positively floated out of the amp after that experience. I would not have become Jared's page turner without the library job.
Tonight Nancy and I went to the choir room to stuff the folders for the weekend choir and the bluegrass band which performed Monday night while we were at the restaurant was back to accompany an extended dance piece called "Shindig" for tonight's dance concert. While we began getting the music ready, they began warming up and practicing in the same room. Live professional bluegrass music 10 feet away from us. They played for about 20 minutes while we danced around sorting music. I was in hog heaven. I adore bluegrass. I know that somewhere out there my daddy was appreciating that I was in that room with those guys. Without the library job, I would not have had that experience.
The richness of my experience up here this year is eons more-so with this job. I could have never dreamed that something I didn't want to do so badly would end up so well.
No kidding. . . . just say YES!
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