Soundwaves

As a music teacher, I’ve taught 4-year-olds, 76-year-olds, and everyone in between! But the vast majority of my students are little people whose legs dangle from the piano bench and beside whom I have to kneel in order to adjust their violin posture. They find universal satisfaction in placing their stickers in the oddest spots on the page; they don’t ask why the first sharp is F, they just take my word for it until they’ve advanced enough to understand the why; and they have energy in everything they’re doing, whether it’s 20 bow circles or “Pirates of the Caribbean.”

However, they’re all different in what they like to play. Romantic music, hymn arrangements, pop, and—oh yes—classical. Whether they know it or not, my students are getting classical training and my goal is to condition them to love classical music as much as I do.

Whenever I go to a concert, whether an Oregon Symphony concert at the Arlene Schnitzer Concert Hall in Portland, or a Seattle Symphony concert at Benaroya Hall, or a local concert in my own town, I am a 20-something swimming in a sea of white hair. I love the white hair—but the absence of youth saddens me. What will this concert hall look like in 20 years, I wonder? Will it be empty? Is a 500 year art form truly on its way out?

Then, my students started talking…about middle-aged dads who play classical music (with a healthy dose of popular music like the aforementioned “Pirates”). And my younger siblings started talking about them and playing them. And Disneyland was featuring them. And what choice did I have but to become enthralled by The Piano Guys, made famous by none other than YouTube?

It’s a fascinating time we live in. A time when the musical elite proclaims the intelligence of modern classical music and decries the taste of the masses. A time when the most popular form of instrumental music—soundtracks—is somehow “less than.” I believe the dissonant ugliness of modern classical music is already doomed, and furthermore that soundtracks are the opera music of our age: grand, glorious creativity, telling a story! Does it get better than that?

At the Arlene Schnitzer concert hall once again, I found myself surrounded by a crowd the likes of which I had never seen in a high-brow concert hall. Ever. Families with small children, 20-something couples, white haired gentlemen and ladies, and a generous showing of teenagers. I was at a Piano Guys concert, watching live performances of their own original compositions on acoustic instruments, watching videos (YouTube!) on giant screens of them performing on location, and watching live performances juxtaposed with video in the background.

Before they played Vivaldi melded with the Bourne soundtrack, Steven Sharp Nelson asked, “Who likes classical music?” The audience of several thousand cheered with contagious enthusiasm and energy, and I knew—John Williams isn’t going away, but neither are Handel, Bach, Beethoven, or Mozart. In the hands of creative, innovative performers, music teachers, and music students, a beautiful sunrise is dawning in classical music.

Photo Credit: fusion-of-horizons

How It Came to Be

"Sorry, we're sold out," the lady in the glass hexagon told us. Lauren and I both stared at her, hoping that the longer we stood there, the greater our chances that the answer would change. Finally, we turned away and stood under the marquee, murmuring about our options.

"I'll go inside," Lauren decided, "and see if they have any tickets there."

"Okay?" I answered, highly skeptical that the inside ticket sellers would be hoarding tickets when the outside ones were empty handed and apparently oblivious. "I'll stand out here and look pathetic."

Joshua Bell is one of the great violinists of our time--do not be deceived by his disarmingly youthful good looks. He is forty-four and has been a serious violinist since the age of twelve, having now recorded over two dozen albums, in addition to movie soundtracks, received the prestigious Avery Fisher prize, and been appointed Music Director at my favorite orchestra, the Academy of St. Martin in the Fields. So one might imagine the ecstasy of Lauren and I on our sweltering August birthday last year when our parents and siblings gave us each a ticket to experience Joshua Bell playing the Shostakovitch Violin Concerto (changed in the last month to the Brahms Violin Concerto) with the Oregon Symphony.

Snow was the last thing on our minds.

Nevertheless, as the monthly countdown melted into a weekly countdown and then into days, the weather report obstinately insisted that snow was predicted for the Northwest. We were all nerves, anxiously hoping our special day would not be snowed out. Sure enough, Sunday dawned cold and white, and though we made it to church safely, Mama was decidedly uncomfortable with the thought of Lauren and I driving to Portland on our own. At this point, our dear Papa volunteered to take us, reluctantly deciding that he could spring for a $45 ticket (the cheapest available at this late date).

Through relatively excellent road conditions we drove, making it to the beautiful Arlene Schnitzer concert hall in downtown Portland, where Papa dropped us off to investigate tickets while he began the arduous task of locating a parking spot. And yet, we were immediately informed of this terrible news that there were no more tickets available. I felt glum and melancholy as I stood outside the Hall, knowing that Papa would cheerfully brush off the fact that he had taken the long trip to bring his daughters to Portland, only to sit in the car or a coffee shop for 2 1/2 hours waiting to drive them home.

I turned to look at the entrance, watching people flood the doors with white and orange tickets clutched in their gloved hands. I didn't have to worry about looking pathetic--it came quite naturally. A coupled moved in front of me, blocking my view.

The man held up his ticket in the air. "I have an extra ticket," he began loudly. I was right there, and I jumped and exclaimed, "Yes!" I had been lost in my own world, not thinking about him, not preparing to pounce. But in the split second after I had reacted, two men behind the ticket benefactor also jumped forward to claim the ticket. Truly, the Spirit had prepared and prompted me, for I was now the rightful possessor of one $62 ticket, gratefully pouring out my thanks to the couple and explaining the situation.

I pulled Lauren out of line, and we jumped around gleefully, waiting for Papa to walk up so we could pretend we had spent $62 of his money on a ticket. The concert, which included not only Joshua Bell and his own genius cadenza, but also Handel's Music for the Royal Fireworks, and two Oregon Symphony premieres, one a Baroque piece--The Battle--by Adriano Banchieri, and the other a gorgeous Sinfonietta by Leos Janacek, was breathtaking. Joshua Bell was astounding. Meeting Joshua Bell was exhilarating. And going out to coffee afterwards with Papa was delightful.

Yesterday, as Lauren and I rested in the snow from our sledding endeavors with the kids, she asked, "Did you think why God sent snow?"

I paused, blank faced, thinking about the allegories of snow and purity and the wonderful application snow can have on our spiritual lives. But as Lauren explained, I realized what she meant. We bemoaned the snow and worried about its coming all week, hoping and praying the God would keep it at bay so we could attend our much-anticipated concert. God, however, had a much more magnificent plan in store for us. Even as Papa agreed to come, wondering where $45 would fit in the budget, God had it all worked out. And then, when the ticket lady told us they were all sold out--that was God's providence too.

Lauren showed me this passage that had come to her mind about Sunday:

"By the breath of God ice is given,
      And the broad waters are frozen.

 Also with moisture He saturates the thick clouds;
      He scatters His bright clouds.

 And they swirl about, being turned by His guidance,
      That they may do whatever He commands them
      On the face of the whole earth.

 He causes it to come,
      Whether for correction,
      Or for His land,
      Or for mercy.

 'Listen to this, O Job;
      Stand still and consider the wondrous works of God.'"

~Job 37:10-14

Such a small thing really, but oh so precious to me. I rest confidently in my God, knowing that each turn of events in my life are for my good and God's glory.

Scripture taken from the New King James Version. Copyright © 1982 by Thomas Nelson,
   Inc. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

Introducing the Next (Toothless) Itzhak Perlman!

I have a new student, and one who is preparing to take the music world by storm: Jonah Adam.

Jonah's career as a musician began this July with a trip to several Portland violin shops to hunt out the perfect violin. He ended up with an adorable 1/8 size violin that is his treasure and delight! This is only the stepping stone, however, to much bigger plans (and instruments): playing the viola.

This is the story, then, of the birth of a musician, and Jonah would love for you to follow how he began his journey into music this summer.

He couldn't wait for our first lesson! Here Jonah is concentrating very hard to make a "perfect bowhold" for y'all!

Behold: a bowhold above all bowholds--this is the gold standard by which all others are judged!

A model violin student, my little brother is standing straight and tall in an excellent demonstration of rest position.


He's a seven year old boy. What else can I say?
(He also informs me that his birthday is in approximately 9 1/2 months and 9 days! I'll have to start thinking about my gift!)

I love teaching Jonah, and it has definitely been great sibling bonding time. As we work through proper position, the parts of the violin, and how to play Twinkle Twinkle, we are also having the best time ever together!

And, according to the virtuouso himself, the best part about learning the violin is "that I'll get to play it soon!" Who could say it better? And it sure is a good thing you don't need those front teeth for the violin, Jonah, 'cause we all think you're pretty cute without them!

A Date with Dad and Other Wonderful Adventures

I remember seeing an Adventures in Odyssey album (a radio drama series) entitled A Date with Dad and other Calamities. I have never listened to it in order to discover if that was supposed to be tongue-in-cheek or not, but I must say that it has always made my blood boil! Last night, I was reminded again how I treasure spending time with Papa when Mikaela and I had a most wonderful date with our dad.

The beautiful evening began almost as soon as we were driving off. Someone glanced up at the rainy horizon and saw there, stretching across the sky, a double rainbow! For the next few minutes we were all spellbound as we stared at God's double reminder of His promise! After running a few errands we headed off to the Olive Garden for dinner. In a large family, one-on-one time with Papa is a treat, and we had a wonderful time catching up over pasta and salad. We were on a mission, though, because we had tickets to see Itzhak Perlman perform with the Oregon Symphony. (For those of you who don't know who he is...poor people...he is almost unarguably the greatest living violinist.) Therefore, we did have to slurp our pasta quickly.

While we were eating dinner, we mentioned to our waitress that we were going to this concert. She had a very interesting reaction. "Oh," she said. "That sounds like the kind of concert that you would come away from refreshed and...well, edified. Most concerts you leave and you're just exhausted and drained, you know? But that sounds like something that would really refresh you." Our waitress was quite the astute observer, not to mention a great balancer of plates.

All right, now here is where things begin to get exciting. We had just enough time to make it to the concert hall in Portland, but of course it could not be that simple. We had to make memories! We missed our exit, but finally got back on track with me as co-pilot. Whew! We could not find a parking spot, but finally settled for the garage. We ran up to the will-call booth, relieved that we had made it, only to discover that our tickets were not there for some reason. No worries, the customer service table wrote us out new ones. We finally found our seats in the sold-out concert hall with five minutes to spare and wondered, "Now where's that refreshment and edification?"

When Itzhak Perlman finally limped out on his crutches (he had polio as a child and cannot walk without them), everyone leaped to their feet and gave him a standing ovation. It was a very emotional moment, and I still cannot believe that I was able to see this amazing man in person.

For the next two hours, I can honestly say that I did not think about wrong turns, Barack Obama, the recession, my to-do list, or my messy closet. We all just listened with joy and awe to the lilting music. Today it's back to leftovers, dark circles under my eyes from last night, baby-sitting two-year olds, and messy closets. But do you know what? When you had a date with your dad last night, that stuff really doesn't matter anymore.

Note: The top photo is of me, Papa, and Mikaela last year. The photo of Itzhak Perlman is from performingarts.ufl.edu. We didn't get a photo of us and Itzhak Perlman, although there's always Photoshop... (-: