37. Happy Holiday

I woke up on Christmas Day with a deep sense of gratitude. As the early morning sun shone thru the window I took a few minutes to count my blessings...good health, a loving family and long marriage, a happy daughter, meaningful work, enough money, many dear friends, hope for the future.

This Christmas has been very special and full of joy. Emily and Jeff spent the holiday with us and they brought a welcome addition to our celebration. We had a full house with gifts, books, laptops and iPhones scattered all around, movies of varying quality, music, NPR, and a bustling kitchen. I can't remember the last time someone prepared Christmas breakfast for me, and this one was stellar- omelettes, bacon, and babka. And to add to it all there was a little levity...

All four of us attended the 4 pm service on Christmas Eve, came home for a simple supper of fish stew, then Bill and I went back to St. Saviour's to play and sing for the 10 pm service. While we were gone some kitchen elves made a cake, frosted it and then decorated it with this: Happy Birthday Jesus. Those same elves hid it on the front porch, cleaned every trace of preparation from the kitchen, and presented it Christmas morning on our special occasion cake plate.

Keep in mind this comes from a Jew and soon-to-be Jew...and this is humor that I like. Come back soon, Em and Jeff!

36. Found in the Offering Box

The best of what makes us human will survive as long as there is just one person left who can play music like that!

As one enters the main doors of St. Saviour's Episcopal Parish in Bar Harbor there is a locked, metal box on the wall for gifts of money to the church. The above note was found in that box in August.

From June until the end of October hundreds, maybe even thousands of tourists flock thru our doors during the week and on Sundays. Being next door to Acadia National Park and sporting an unbelievable location combining ocean and mountains, Bar Harbor is a big tourist destination. The year the town will be visited by approximately 100 cruise ships alone. St. Saviour's is on the National Historic Registry and is famous for its Tiffany windows; hence many, many people want to see it for themselves.

But there is so much more to this beautiful space than the windows. There is a profound, awe-inspiring sense of the sacred here. I have witnessed countless examples of people of many nationalities and faiths (or no faith) be struck dumb as they enter the church. The feeling of something greater than ourselves is present, and I confess to being aware of it every time I am there.

I do a lot of practicing in August and many visitors sit down to listen for a few minutes. Often they are even on their knees praying. It's a little strange to be off in my own world of the music and discover that someone is listening, and I have to put that out of my mind so that I am not distracted. Sometimes someone will quietly say thank-you as they are leaving and at times the listener will have the courage to approach me on the bench. But I never fail to see that somehow the music has comforted or transformed the listeners, even if just for a few minutes.

This posting is not about me and any special ability I might have as an organist. It is about the power and meaning of music, whether new or ancient, in this special place. How fortunate I am to be the conduit for that, and I am filled with gratitude.

35. Happy News

I am delighted to report that our daughter Emily is engaged to be married. She and Jeff have been together for almost two years and I think they are a good match. As an example, he is able to make Emily laugh in a way I've rarely seen and that is good! Bill and I are looking forward to having Jeff be a part of our family, and as a bonus we really enjoy his parents, too.

This is turning out to be one of those moments when I am acutely aware of the passage of time, of entering a new phase of life, of handing over the keys to the next generation. My head is now bursting with memories of Emily's presence in my life as well as my own two weddings. I feel as if I'm on a cloud, looking down at my life and seeing many good times, mixed with a dash of regret and some mistakes.

Lately I have been listening to Elizabeth Gilbert's Committed. She is a wise and thoughtful writer and I can only wish that I had been tuned into her sort of wisdom when I was younger. Emily is 25, and by the time I was her age I had already been married and divorced from my childhood sweetheart. When I married Bill at age 28 I was only slightly more aware of what a long-term commitment involved. We have rolled with the punches, however, and in September joyfully celebrated our 27th anniversary.

From what I've witnessed both Emily and Jeff have given much thought to their vision for a life together. Is there any way I can tell them that the gift of love is what makes life worth living? Can I speak of the importance of cherishing one another above all else? Will I be able to support them during the rough spots while encouraging them to keep their faith in each other? These precepts are what I've come to believe through experience and observation. Already I see that their love for one another is deep and that brings me great joy.

Congratulations, dear ones.

34. Island Cottage

The past two months have been frenetic, rather like an Allegro con fuoco, yet full of many good things...the AGO convention in DC, a weekend with Emily and Jeff in their new place, the Sewanee Church Musicians Conference, visits from several good friends...and full of an enormous amount of work including playing two recitals and managing a concert series. I feel like I spent the entire month of August sitting on an organ bench somewhere. As the last tremendous chord of my recital at St. Saviour's in late August resonated throughout the church, I let myself think ahead a bit...vacation, a true vacation!

For 18 years we spent some time around Labor Day in the north woods of Maine (see Homage to Spencer Pond, No. 18). This year felt like the time to try something different, so for a week we rented a cottage on Campobello, a small island roughly 10 miles off the northern coast of Maine. It is reached by means of a short bridge from Lubec, and even though a passport is needed to get through customs it is the easiest international trip I can imagine. Simply by driving over that bridge you're in friendly, bilingual Canada.

Campobello is perhaps best known as the summer home of FDR, but mainly this is a quiet and often poor place, where many people just barely get by with fishing or service jobs. The island has its share of rundown houses, abandoned trailers and trash alongside the roads. It is also an immensely beautiful place with a bold rocky coast on the east side and quiet coves and harbors on the west. There is a dramatic lighthouse where one can spot whales, seals and eagles.

I wanted long days with nothing on the schedule but hours of reading, walks along the coast and quiet candlelit dinners. I got my wish, and more. Despite intense and unusual heat we dutifully traipsed out for a hike each day and discovered the natural air-conditioning at Liberty Point. I read a fantastic book, Saturday by Ian McEwan, and evenings were spent with a simple supper and glass of wine on the deck overlooking the water and magnificent sunset. Best of all, I began each day on that same deck with a cup of coffee and some poetry and realized, this is enough. I am renewed.

And now it's back to the hectic fall routine of conducting, teaching, accompanying and practicing. As I do at this juncture every year I vow to somehow stay on top of things while at the same time looking after that part of me that needs quiet and time alone. I don't have the answer to that conundrum, but I can keep trying.

33. Challenge

Last week I had the great pleasure of performing in recital at St. John's Roman Catholic Church in Bangor. This was my third time to play there, on an instrument I lovingly refer to as The Beast. A 3-manual tracker situated in a high, rear loft, the organ is celebrating its 150th birthday this year. The sounds from the pipes float out over the organist's head to fill the cavernous space. That is one of the reasons I like to play there: the acoustics are so good that the quietest flute stop will surround the audience and full organ will rattle the pews. But, as I said, I do call it The Beast for good reason: the pedal board is flat and a couple of notes short, the lettering on the stops is faded and illegible, which means I have to have my cheat sheet nearby, and there are no pistons to pre-set registrations. All those things mean that I am definitely out of my comfort zone.

This year an oboist friend, David, played on two numbers with me. I had thought that the sound of the oboe would be gorgeous in that space, and I was right. In addition to the works for oboe and organ I played several solos, including Karg-Elert's Nun danket, Vierne's Clair de Lune, some spirituals arranged by Calvin Taylor, and Denis Bedard's exciting Suite du premier ton.

The past couple of years I have struggled some with performance. There have been times when it was hard to muster enough energy for the intense preparation, when I couldn't focus as I was playing, when my nerves threatened to get the best of me. This time I was truly ready to play and I kept repeating to myself a clinician's recent advice: if you have adequately prepared, just open the door and walk thru it. As I strode out to take my first bow I saw many friends (even Christie from Connecticut), colleagues and strangers, and felt a warm rush of support for what I was about to do.

Our newspaper, the Bangor Daily News, has been following an interesting story lately. A 50 year-old woman, recently laid-off and divorced, with grown children, decided to attempt a 740-mile solo kayak odyssey along the Northern Forest Canoe Trail from Old Forge, New York, to Fort Kent, Maine. One hears about these mid-life adventures fairly often, but for some reason this one caught my eye. I tried to imagine the courage it took to even start out, the necessary preparation of careful packing and the need to be in superior physical shape. After 58 days she successfully finished the journey.

Bill asked me if I could imagine doing something like that and before I could blurt out No! something clicked inside my brain. While I'm not inclined to go into the wilderness by myself, I think playing recitals is my own sort of mid-life challenge. There are actually a number of similarities: I didn't begin playing organ recitals in places other than my own church until age 52, I am entirely alone on that organ bench, and the preparation required is long and intense. A well-played concert is a combination of the mental and the physical, plus a bit of grit thrown in for good measure.

No performance is perfect-there was a missed repeat, some new harmony coming from the pedals, and my left hand on the wrong manual at one point-but all in all I was pleased. I think, and hope, that the spirit of the composer's wishes came through in my playing and I continue to be grateful for both the ability and opportunity to make beautiful music.

32. Master Class

This month I spent a week at the Sewanee Church Musicians Conference in Monteagle, Tennessee. Situated on the beautiful Cumberland Plateau, the area is full of winding roads and lush forests. Many artists and writers call this part of the state home, and for good reason. It is high enough to be away from the unrelenting heat of the Deep South and far enough from a major city that the night sky is brilliant. Although Monteagle is the base for our activities, a number of events also take place on the beautiful campus of the University of the South in nearby Sewanee.

This was my 4th year to attend the conference and by now it is sort of like a homecoming...I've made a number of good friends there as well as many acquaintances, and reconnecting after a year is both fun and interesting. Most of us work as organists and choirmasters in Episcopal churches and that common bond usually allows us to converse on a meaningful level despite political and theological differences.

Each day begins with a Eucharist at 7:30 (I confess to not always attending these) followed by rehearsals, workshops, lectures, recitals and music-reading sessions. There is not much free time, but I try to squeeze in a swim now and then and a late night walk with friends. And of course, there's the food...tons and tons of marvelous southern-style cooking served 3 times a day. Grits, sausage, barbeque, chess pie-we all laugh at our expanding waistlines while we continue to shovel it in. I dare say 100% of the attendees are on a diet this week! But along with the food come great opportunities for ample conversation with folks from all over the US, and this year, Barbados. Most evenings after dinner a large group gathers on one of 2 verandas to have a drink, tell a joke and wind down.

Yes, it's a lot of fun, but the musical and liturgical ideas plus the training I receive are on a par with none other. This year that was especially true because I signed up to play for a master class for our organist clinician, Peter Richard Conte. Peter is a world-class performer: in addition to his duties as organist-choirmaster at St. Clements's Church in Philadelphia he is the Grand Court Organist for the Wannamaker Organ at Macy's department store in the same city. The famous Wannamaker organ has 6 manuals and 28,000 pipes. When not touring Peter performs there twice daily, 6 times a week.

The master class took place on the next-to-last day of the conference. I had plenty of time to get used to an unfamiliar instrument, but it also meant that the event was hanging over me for most of the week. It is not easy to play for a famous organist and your peers! I was nervous and particularly struggled to put it out of my mind at night; however, at the same time I really wanted to play.

I chose Louis Vierne's Clair de Lune, an evocative, somewhat hazy piece of about 10 minutes duration. I did alright: as with any performance some things turned out very well, others not. But I was able to hold my head up afterwards and best of all I got some very practical tips from Peter on registration, articulation and phrasing. The end result was definitely worth the effort.

I am grateful to my friends Ellen, Elise, Nina and Lyn (left to right, below) for their encouragement and support. When I threatened to back out they would not hear of it, and on that free Saturday afternoon when they could have been out exploring the countryside they came to hear me play. Thank you! I hope I can do the same for you all next time.

31. For the Beauty

An exceptionally long and mild spring, a beautiful beginning to summer in Maine, and a recent roadtrip rambling thru the backwoods of Vermont have reminded me of a favorite hymn. How lucky I am to breathe fresh, clean air...to see the ocean everyday as I drive to work...to walk on still forest paths...to look up at a bright night sky and see hundreds of stars...to be loved by dear friends and family.

For the beauty of the earth, for the beauty of the skies,

For the love which from our birth over and around us lies,

For the beauty of each hour of the day and of the night,

Hill and vale, and tree and flower, sun and moon, and stars of light,

For the joy of ear and eye, for the heart and mind's delight,

For the mystic harmony linking sense to sound and sight,

For the joy of human love, brother, sister, parent, child,

Friends on earth and friends above, for all gentle thoughts and mild,

Lord of all, to thee we raise this our hymn of grateful praise.

Folliet Sandford Pierpoint (1835-1917)