Wednesday, November 14, 2007
Symphony Serenade
A night at the symphony..... Images of dining that includes white linen tablecloths, a waiter with a napkin over his arm, pouring a bubbly beverage, then stepping onto the curb while valet parking whisks away our car. Sitting entranced by the music, while trying to take in all the finery surrounding us. Leaving full to the brim with memories of amazing music, amazing people, an amazing night.

Here's what really happened.

I'm not really a clotheshound, I don't especially like to shop for clothes, I'm tall, and a bit of a tightwad. I'd scored a lovely outfit at Anne Taylor Loft a month or so back, and set it aside as suitable for whatever the upcoming holidays held. I tried it on in the store, but never at home.

The morning of the Symphony we realized we didn't really have time for dinner out, so I picked up McDonalds and brought it home. We wolfed down dinner, and proceeded to dress. DH put on a beautiful suit, white shirt and tie, was ready in 10 minutes and looked ever so dashing.

I took the outfit out of the closet, put it on, and then came to the dilemma I always hit - oh my gosh what on earth shoes do I wear with this? Being 5'10" it's not unusual for slacks to be too short, or barely okay. They were long enough in the dressing room when I was barefoot. It's too late in the season to wear the open-toed ones I'd planned on. I don't understand shoes at all, but I could tell nothing else in my closet worked. The only option was a pair of boots that went far enough up my calves to not look dorky when I sat down, which is what I'd be doing the entire evening. There was no other recourse. It'd have to do. I'm used to barely long enough slacks and not getting the shoe thing right, so off we went.

We're not good at navigating big cities, and were proud to find Heinz Hall. We found a parking garage, left the car and rode down an elevator. Coming out of the garage we were already lost, and within two minutes I looked so bewildered that some nice man said to me, "You look really lost. Do you need help?" We found out there's a 6th avenue and a 6th Street, right next to each other so DH decided we needed to walk entirely around Heinz Hall so we could get our bearings. I just loved tagging along in my dumb boots that made walking feel like a military experience.

Inside, the building was amazing, we had a glass of wine while some 14 year old piano virtuoso entertained us. He was amazingly talented but I found myself wondering if he ever hangs out at the mall, or plays video games. He looked more serious than I would have wanted my kids to look at that age. His music was amazing in a loud, angry-sounding way.

We had fabulous seats, 10 rows from the front, next to the aisle. We seemed to be in a section of wealthy older people who had season tickets, as they said hello to each other over heads. The conductor came out. He had a bald spot in back with a little circle of hair around it, tuxedo with tails that would flop back and forth, up and down as he conducted. Something in me was reminded of a field of golden retrievers - all eyes were locked on the conductor as he gave the sign - begin. Bows raised, horns up, it was lovely from the moment it began.

Within two minutes the man to my right went fast asleep. For awhile I thought he was deep in thought, but after many sideway glances I realized he was down for the count. His wife didn't seem to mind a whit - she was enjoying herself. After the first act he woke up, clapped, and appeared ready to stay awake.

The stage was rearranged, a beautiful Steinway piano was moved to the very front, and a young Russian man emerged from the side of the stage. His hands looked like they had never seen sunlight. The Beethoven Symphony he was performing had four parts, each one was over 7 minutes long. This particular symphony is unusual because it's a response between the other instruments and the piano, he'd play his part, then listen to them, then play, over and over. What was remarkable about it was that he had no music. He simply sat and listened then played like nobody's business.

I sat and thought about when I go to the grocery store for an unexpected stop I absolutely cannot remember what's on the grocery list on the side of the fridge. If I can come with half a dozen things we're out of, I have to assign them letters - B for bread, C for chips, etc. - to have any hopes of remembering them. If it's more than six it's hopeless. This pianist played for a total of 34 minutes without a single sheet of music, he not only knew his parts, he knew the entire symphony. I think he's a bit smarter than I am. I also doubt he ever cooks, so he has no need for remembering the grocery list, and that's a shame because boy would he be good at it!

When he finished playing, and we were all sitting there amazed, some older delightfully interesting looking woman two rows up shot up out of her seat and shouted "Bravo!", so we all stood up and clapped too and Mr. Asleep to my right, shot up too - he'd obviously slept through many symphonies and knew the drill.

It was then intermission time, and I thought he'd probably be good for the rest of the concert, that he'd just been really tired. We milled around awhile, they removed the Steinway, and the concert began again. The last part was mostly allegro, and if I remember nothing else from my few years of piano, I know that means "fast", one part was allegro passionata, so I thought for sure Mr. Asleep would stay awake through this. Not a chance. Within minutes of sitting down again and the houselights going down, he was back asleep.

My boots hurt like heck, and my restless legs went a little nuts. When you have restless legs you have to move them, and if you are wearing boots, it sounds a bit like a parade, but that was during the allegro passionata part, so the marching noises I was making sounded appropriate and didn't disturb Mr. Asleep.

When we left the theater, thanks to DH's work ahead of time we were able to find our vehicle, leave downtown, and navigate home. Halfway there I mentioned I was starving. We headed to a semi-trashy little place that stays open most of the night and had pancakes and bacon.

At home, I took off my boots, put away my outfit, made a mental note to lengthen the slacks before our Christmas party so I can wear more bearable/wearable shoes, and climbed into bed. Bad food, getting lost, shoes that hurt, more bad food. It didn't matter at all. That's what really happened - amazing music, amazing people, amazing night.

Labels: ,

  posted at 12:12 PM

Subscribe in a reader
Past Chats
  • April 2006
  • May 2006
  • June 2006
  • July 2006
  • August 2006
  • September 2006
  • October 2006
  • November 2006
  • December 2006
  • January 2007
  • February 2007
  • March 2007
  • April 2007
  • May 2007
  • June 2007
  • July 2007
  • August 2007
  • September 2007
  • October 2007
  • November 2007
  • December 2007
  • January 2008
  • February 2008
  • March 2008
  • April 2008
  • May 2008
  • June 2008
  • July 2008
  • August 2008
  • September 2008
  • October 2008

  • Filed Away Neatly
    Busy Buzz
    Creative License
    Dusty Stuff
    Family Affair
    Girl Talk
    Glimpse of the Heart
    Photo Album
    Slavin' Over the Stove
    The Price is Right

    Search This Blog


    Creative Commons License
    This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.

    Page copy protected against web site content infringement by Copyscape

    About Me

    Girl Raised in the South

    I have a deep, abiding love for full octane coffee, sewing, knitting, quilting, reading, cooking, gardening, God and my family - not in that order.

    My Complete Profile

    Family is Everything
  • A Chelsea Morning - Barb
  • And Baby Makes Three - Leslie
  • Creative Worship - Chris
  • Flight Song - Mom
  • In The Midst of It - Sarah
  • At A glance - Krissy
  • In A Moment - Mandy

  • Recent Comments

    Fruit of the Spirit

    Family Friendly

    Family Friendly Blogroll []

    Family Friendly Blogroll [-]

    Blog Design by:

    Powered by:
    Powered By Blogger

    Meter by: