26. April 2008 · 4 comments · Categories: Ramble

Did you hear that?

Me neither.

Thanks to The Standing Room I have learned that I really don’t have younger than springtime ears. Sigh. I like to think I can pass for younger. But, well, I can hear the 50 and younger** … and I’m 51!

So there.

Younger than springtime, they hear
Older than winter, my ear
So much for thinking I
might just pass for twenty, oh me.
They will get older, they’ll see
And miss a phone call, dear me!
Then I’ll be laughing, r – o – f – l
I’ll text with glee.

**I have removed the link; I think I was getting spammed because of it! Just search on m0squit0 ringt0nes and you’ll probably find it!


26. April 2008 · 1 comment · Categories: Links, Oboe

Bach brings me joy so much of the time. Yes, anguish too, but lots and lots of joy. I wish I was able to play more Bach. But since I don’t get to, I have to sit back and enjoy. You can too!

26. April 2008 · 2 comments · Categories: Ramble

Clarinetist David Thomas has requested that I read his letter to Columbus at his site.

Other bloggers have mentioned the situation as well (see here, here* and here for instance).

Having been in San Jose Symphony (RIP) since 1975, and having been there when it died, I feel for these musicians. Trust me, it is heart breaking to deal with. I do hope Columbus can get things together and that the musicians don’t have to go through what we did here. It’s devastating.

*link no longer working

26. April 2008 · 15 comments · Categories: Ramble

Last night, near the middle of the first act of Magic Flute, between two numbers, someone yelled out, “Is there a doctor in the house?” I didn’t see any reaction from the conductor, but I wasn’t looking right at him when this was yelled. We kept playing.

But my heart went to the floor.

I’m not sure why something like that shakes me up so much, but it does. I did play Les Mis once after a 30 minute delay, when a man was being worked on by EMT folks. We later learned he died. Maybe it’s that memory. But I don’t think so.

Anyway, after the next number was finished I still saw no reaction from anyone, so I leaned over to the second oboist and said, “Did someone yell out “Is there a doctor in the house?” or did I imagine that?” She heard it too.

For a time I heard voices faintly in the background, so I’m assuming they were treating the guy. During intermission I heard that, indeed, someone had a medical issue and a couple of doctors were helping him. I was told he was fine. (I was told the man at Les Mis was fine too, though, and only learned he had died through a bizarre story that will remain untold.)

Back in San Jose Symphony (RIP) days a chorus member went crashing to the floor during a performance. Our conductor was quite proud of himself for not stopping. I believe the stage hands went onstage to drag the woman, who had fainted, off stage. (I wasn’t there, but that’s the story I was told.) The orchestra was very upset and I believe actually managed to get something written up that said we’d stop if something like this happened again.

I’m guessing that in most instances the show simply has to go on … that there is really nothing we all can do. But last night I felt cold and callous, knowing we didn’t even stop for a moment. I wonder what other performing groups do in instances like this.

If I keel over dead while performing, I do hope someone will at least stop to make me look presentable; if my underwear is showing just take a few minutes, please, to cover me up.

The performance last night went well, if a little on the slow side in places, but I’m really struggling; if I breathe, I cough. And I’m finding it very difficult to stop breathing. I’ve not mastered that yet. Of course if I DO keel over dead I’ll at least have mastered that.