"The hills were alive with the sound of music." The hills were located in Alpine, Utah and music was incredibly produced by the brand new Timpanogos Symphony Orchestra, with John Pew as the conductor and founder of the fledgling orchestra. I saw a flyer posted at a local business and two phrases drew my attention: Rachmaninoff's Piano Concerto No. 2, and Free! I am not a person who likes to go out alone on a Friday or Saturday evening, maybe it's because I don't want to appear to be friendless, but nothing was going to keep me from this entertainment. Well I won't say I was that determined. As a matter of fact last night all it took was a couple conversations on Facebook to keep me in front of the computer instead of in the audience at the premier performance of the Orchestra. But not tonight, even though I noticed how my house could use some of my time. I uttered outloud, "Oh pish posh it can wait", and then into my chest in Brick-ish (The Middle Sit-com) manner "It can wait". Grabbing my GPS to navigate my way through this new community I was off for an incredible evening. The performance was held at Timberline High School Auditorium and I really didn't expect a huge turnout so I didn't allow myself much lead time. As I drove up the street I was hugely excited and worried at the same time because there was a large number of cars parked on the street. It was great to see many were there to a cultural event. Luckily I found a parking place relatively quickly and hurried inside. Indeed the venue was crowded and I was directed to a far and high corner, but one of the benefits of being a single is the opportunity to find a lonely seat closer to the stage. I did. I'm pausing in writing this wondering if I should take this blog through my whole evening or just the serene pleasure of the music. Since the "mind talk" and the music seemed to combine into one thought pattern I will include it all.
I went down to the 4th row and there was a nice young man with his date about 4 seats in. There was a purse on the ground between the 1st and 2nd seat. When I asked the young man if the seats were being saved, he said he wasn't sure, because an old lady sat on the aisle seat earlier and that was her purse. He didn't know if the other seats were being saved by her. I was very un-Leslie like because I moved in and took one of the seats saying "I'm sure if she meant to save them all, she would have asked you to", and "I'll move if she needs them all". It was perfect timing because as I sat down the orchestra ceased their tuning and the director came to the microphone. His name is John Pew. From his emotional introduction to the evening, his biography in the program and mostly from his vibrant and expressive conducting style, I was able to recognize his passion for music and for this new orchestra. He had me ready to support, applaud, and encourage, but what a treat it was that the orchestra doesn't need me to be absolutely fabulous. They were so perfect in their response to their conductor that they just lead me right into my trance-like reverence to the music and the composers. It is probably not necessary to explain that I am not an expert. I don't know a concerto from an opus. I wonder what is in that makes a symphony a symphony. No education or knowledge of music at all, but I do know that I was given a gift to enjoy the talents of others. So as I write of these things it is from a very layman's point of view. First up was the Sabre Dance by Aram Khachaturian. As soon as they started performing this piece I recognized it. Frequently it is music played for trapeze artists, fire eaters or others who are doing something terribly courageous. It has soft parts in it as well and I found that even through the staccato my stress was melting. There is just nothing like classical music from a live orchestra that can touch my soul so quickly. Peer Gynt by Edvard Grieg was the next portion. Our music director told us that this was a familiar piece that was even used in some cartoons. I did immediately recognize "Morning Mood" and the rest of my tension liquified around my feet as I listened. But in the back of my mind I still wondered "Where was the "old lady" whose purse was still on the floor beside me?" Was she in a restroom ill? Should I go check on her? I don't know anything about her and I certainly wasn't going to ask the people around me in the middle of this performance. "Oh, Grieg it's impossible to stay worried when your music is being played so smoothly and sweetly." Concerned, yet simulataneously promising myself to become more immersed in the classics. It was an interesting internal conversation while enjoying the ebbs and flows of Griegs "Aase's Death", "Anitra's Dance", and the very familiar and strident "In the Hall of the Mountain King". Grieg has a sweet melody flow through his music. I really felt the conflict of worrying about the poor missing "old lady" through the Johannes Brahms selections. Brahms rocked my babies to sleep. I was very familiar with Brahms lullabye but not too much otherwise. I was quite surprised when we were told that Brahms was considered one of the best in his time along with the two other "B" named composers, Beethoven and Bach. How intimidating would that be? We did not hear the Lullabye we heard variations on a theme that Haydn wrote. I love to consider perspective in life. It is always interesting to see what different people see in the same piece of art, or even current events. Brahms really treated us to a lot of different perspectives of this same theme. It was recognizable, yet hardly so, as we heard eight variations of the same music. Sometimes the music was in the back of my head as my concern about the missing woman moved to alarm and then even dread. "Okay we are two thirds of the way through with the concert, even if she found another seat, why would she have not returned for her purse? I haven't heard any sirens or seen any other cause for emergency, so she must still be here somewhere. Boy if we were any where else I might really wonder about a purse left with no sign of its owner. Eeeek! What if it was a bomb or something. There are alot of people from the area here. Even the Mayor is attending. What if it is something? I shouldn't just be sitting here getting lost in the music I should alert someone. Who? Even if I went out and told someone what would they do, stop the orchestra and ask for the lady to claim her purse. Maybe she just found friends on the other side of the theater and will return at intermission. That's it. Now just relax into the music. Maybe I should just pick up the purse and set it on the seat. I could take it out to someone in the lobby at intermission. Yah, that's if I'm still here at intermission. Maybe it's set to go off at a particular time in the music....like at the cannon booms in the 1812 overture. I sure wish I knew when there was drama ahead of time in Brahms work. How can I be so concerned, yet so relaxed at the same time. Well I guess if there's a bomb in that purse then I'll definitely be gone. Oh well. No better way to go than listening to this great orchestra, I guess." "Oh no. If I'm gone then my kids and others will see how messy my house is. I KNEW I should have cleaned it. But if I had then I wouldn't be here listening to this fantastic music. Then there wouldn't be "the purse" to even worry about. But I am here, maybe I should be the one to do something. Oh, Leslie, you are so silly. This is American Fork, UT. Nothing is going to happen here. Just relax and enjoy." I got lost in the rest of Grieg's variations and in watching the enthusiasm and enjoyment of the violinists sitting directly in front of me. They created such beautiful tones as they drew their bows across the strings. I especially love the surprises that come in the minor notes. I notice a fluitist sitting in the middle so patiently waiting for her turn to play the flute. After looking at the program I see there are actually four fluitists (are they called floutists) but from my seat only the one is visible. I love the flute, but it does take a secondary place in an orchestra allowing the stringed instuments to be the stars. The very recognizable "In the Hall of the Mountain King" is hard to sit still to. I find myself tapping my foot. Then, it's over. The applause is almost like the end of the entire event. But there is a promise of more to come. It's intermission. Turning to the gentleman to my left I stated the obvious, "The lady never came." Duh. I headed out to see if I could find anyone to share my concern, fear, obligation to the lady. After locating an usher he told me that if after intermission it was still there to bring him the purse. Well there, anyway I told someone so if a bomb blows us all up at least I wasn't the only one who knew. Besides I was just being crazy. I returned to my seat half expecting the purse to be gone along with the owner to the other side of the theater. But no, it was still there, but also there was another gentleman who joined a group behind me. I grabbed my jacket and headed up a row or two to a perfect location for the next selection. I sat down wishing that I had someone I could share my appreciation of the orchestra as a whole and each individual talent that made up the orchestra. But then again I could comfortably sit in my seat without feeling like I was taking too much space from my neighbor, and I could even overflow onto the next seat with my jacket and purse. I knew this was a prime spot to enjoy the piano soloist. I could enjoy every stroke of the ebony and ivory. To top it off it was Rachmaninoff who has been one of my favorites from way back when. The director told us some very interesting information about Rachmaninoff, about his size, 6 foot 6 inches, and his bouts of depression and overcoming it to write this concerto. He told us also that this was the favorite piece of classical music next to Beethoven's 9th. I wouldn't even have known how to vote on that because I don't know the names of the selections. I do always say that Rachmaninoff is one of my favorites for the variety and passion in his music, and that I love Vivaldi for his sweetness. That's the thing about classical music it can take you to places that are so sweet and tender and then to powerful and foreboding places that might be recognizable to those parts of us that are tormented. The music chosen for this occasion though was powerful but more in attitude than in darkness. I was grateful for this because probably the bomb would have definitely gone off in my mind. Once I was settled into my new seat I just forgot the "Old Lady", the purse, and the bomb. I was exactly where Rachmaninoff, Conductor Pew, and pianist Shumway wanted me to be. I was putty in their hands. What excruciatingly beautiful talent they possess. Shumway was powerful in his keystrokes. I couldn't believe the trills and runs up the piano. Rachmaninoff had huge hands, but Shumways had great magic as they performed with agility the nimble moves this piece required. He didn't have much time for his hands to rest but I noticed when he did he dropped them to his sides. He occasionally would shake them to possibly get the blood to flow? Jeffrey Shumway is most likely younger than myself, but I thought about the joints, muscles and nerves in my own hands, and wondered if these things were a challenge to him. If they were the only possible evidence was that momentary drop to the side because his talent was magical. He and the conductor were in sync with their signals to one another and I'm sure there were many practices and rehearsals. They were rewarded with a wild standing ovation that gave them the opportunity to come back for well deserved multiple bows. I was swept away and it was only as I was driving away that I remembered the poor little old lady who didn't have her purse. I will definitely be at the orchestra's next appearance on June 4th at the American Fork Auditorium. In the meantime I am going to start reading up on my favorite composers and start listening a little more to Grieg and Brahms than to Oprah and Ellen. Thank you!!
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