Sunday, August 23, 2015

The Only One?



"Have you ever gone to a Star Trek movie?" I said as I turned to the gentleman near me on the lawn at Tanglewood. I think he was stunned by the question that had been prompted by the Boston Pops presentation at John Williams' Film Night of the opening sequence of "Star Trek into Darkness."

"Well, I've seen some of the earlier ones," he replied, "but not the latest movies."

"I haven't even seen the early ones, and after seeing the sections of film presented here tonight, I probably won't see any of the movies."

His daughter overheard the conversation. "We (She and her sister) have seen a couple of the movies. You're probably the only person of your generation who has never seen Star Trek."

I was caught again, out of step with more than several generations this time. A few years ago, I was told that I was out of step with the latest generation because I had not read any Harry Potter. I remedied that by reading the first book and watching although it really hurt to do so the second installment. There were some good points made. Certainly there are some unforgettable characters, whom I can't remember now. But I now was in touch with a generation that I had not been in touch with before. Phrases and characters from the Potter series will live on for many years as they are incorporated into the dictionaries and Wikipedia.

While I was at a party a few weeks later, I sat with a couple of young girls, aged 7 and 10. Fresh from reading and seeing Harry Potter, I attempted to relate by using my new arsenal of information gleaned from Potter. "So, do you read Harry Potter?"

The ten year old replied, "Not really. I like Lemony Snicket."

She and her sister told me about Lemony Snicket. I listened the best I could, distracted, knowing that I had some more reading to do to relate to another generation. I didn't go out and by a Snicket book, but I Googled it, and found a few things that would help me in the future. On the other hand, the next thing is probably already out there, and the generations keep on coming.

"No, I don't read Lemony Snicket... I just read good stories," is the latest response.

After the Star Wars sequence, I used my flashlight to see what the second half of the pops concert was about, "Jurassic Park," "Jaws," Throne Room and Finale from "Star Wars." Yes, I'm out of touch with something. "Scent of a Woman," "Fiddler on the Roof." I saw those two. Maybe I'm okay.

The daughter was folding up some of the equipment they had used for their banquet on the lawn. I reached down and helped unscrew a table leg. I thanked them for the great crisp chocolate chip cookie that tasted like the ones my mother had made. Then I packed up my chair. The daughter helped me with that. She assured me. "You may be the only one but you seem to be a man who has done a lot over the years, so you probably shouldn't worry about it."

"If I'm that singular, it's one more achievement. This is a big crowd tonight and I'm tired. I need to get to bed early more than I need the second half of this program. Enjoy and thanks."

Am I really the only one who has never seen a full episode of Star Trek?

Wednesday, August 19, 2015

Transformation: From host to guest



I sat dazed; not entirely sure of my feelings; where to start. I looked up, moved my head as if to speak. She gazed at me coaxing me with her eyes. "You want to say something… take your time…I'm listening." I had just been through one of the most moving experiences life has to offer on a Sunday afternoon in the Berkshires. The Boston symphony just completed a stirring rendition of Beethoven's Ninth. It's a tradition at Tanglewood to close the season with this inspiring piece that includes soloists and choir singing the Ode to Joy in German, but understandable in any language. You just know something great and wonderful is being spoken.


The wonder of this moment began about three weeks before. I am an Airbnb host. My guest was a young man named Nat who described himself as an extra viola player with the BSO. He wanted a clean place, where he could practice, and have some shelf space in the fridge. That was easy. I must say, and he would agree, that he got much more. A garage to park his bike, large bowls for morning cereal, a room with a fourteen foot ceiling and open sliding doors where he could practice without disturbing or being disturbed, and even a dresser that he could use as a workbench for his second career, rejuvenating bows for stringed instruments with horse hair.


Daily we sat at breakfast, he with his huge bowl of mixed cereals, fruits, and yogurt. Me with my cuppa. "So what's on today?" "Rehearsal for Saturday." "Who's performing?" "Andris Nelsons' wife will be singing. She's with the Metropolitan Opera. The second part is Richard Strauss, 'Ein Heldenleben', a story about a heroic life. Usually there is a story portrayed in the music; you notice it by the interaction between musicians and instruments" Nat then told me the story behind each of the movements. The next morning we talked about Beethoven's Ninth.


Although he was an extra, Nat played most of the nights. Over breakfast we covered Mahler "Watch for the hammerschlag, a huge hammer"; Sebelius, "Kavakos on the violin, an imposing presence, but only about six feet tall"(I thought he was a giant).; Mendelssohn "Tetzlaff on the violin loves to play softly, challenging the orchestra to also play very softly; that can be difficult for the conductor"; Berlios "You'll like this one"; Shostakovich "Not everyone likes to play Shostakovich"; and others. We talked about conductors, why one such as Nelsons was able to get so much out of an orchestra with what seemed to me to be such erratic and eccentric movements, and "The orchestra picks up on the passion of the conductor. He puts out. The orchestra responds." "Keith Lockhart, conductor for the Boston Pops, limits his movements and is more precise… it's clear what he wants you to do." We talked about Yo Yo Ma, the renowned cellist who is traveling with the BSO now and on a trip to Europe next month. I went to three of Ma's performances during the three weeks. It's apparent why he is so popular. At least three great violinists also performed revealing different styles and different strokes, each engaging the audience in various ways.


We talked about having a cookout for some members of the BSO, but they were busy entertaining relatives and friends. I wanted Nelsons, and Ma to come. That didn't work out, so we went out to Lagonia's in Chatham for pizza, and talked for about two hours. I prepared and we shared Indian food and lasagna on a couple other nights. Nat's bright charming Irish friend joined us for the lasagna. He brought a different kind of beer in every few days for me to try. We made up beds for a couple of his guests who stayed on some nights. "I don't care how you use the space," I told him. "I'm getting an awful lot from this experience."


So that final Sunday was the culmination of a three week immersion for me into the life of a gifted, struggling musician. He got me passes to the lawn for four weekends. The last Saturday night, he actually found tickets that put us into the fourth row in the Shed, just short of the stage.


The us who sat in the fourth row, and the she who was gazing at me in the first paragraph, was Mary, Nat's friend. She's a PhD. Mathematician from Ireland. I had two mornings of math seminar with her over coffee. Geometry, and specifically symmetry was her field in math. She also baked some terrific bread/cake laced with raisins and chocolate chips. She accompanied me to the Saturday night concert with the soloist and the Strauss piece. She sat next to me on the lawn on Sunday afternoon under a maple tree, entranced by Beethoven's Ninth. The music, the friendship, overwhelmed me. I got my voice back. "I just feel so grateful." I had become the guest in a wonderful world for three weeks.