Friday, December 29, 2006

Bigger is Not Better

Everybody wanted to see a movie and the movie selected was Night at the Museum. The reviews were good and the advertisements looked fun. My wife was especially excited that the film was designed for an IMAX theater. Now, for me, movies are an average source of entertainment. I could go several months without seeing one and then might enjoy a couple of them. Mainly, I enjoy attending a movie for the conversation value later in a social setting. When stuck for something to say, it always works to throw in, "Have you seen [insert movie name]? What did you think?"

I also recognize the artistic elements that take place in a film--from literary to drama to background music to visual elements. In many ways, movies combine the best aspects of entertainment and the arts to form an elaborate corroboration of ideas, skills, training, experience, and creativity. Using a myriad of emotional technique, movies can be fun, entertaining, profound, ridiculous, sublime, superficial, frightening, or joyful. The potential for affecting human behavior in both subtle and obvious ways is astounding and I am thankful for the opportunities we have to experience this complicated and amazing art form--the film.

So we loaded up the car and headed to a city to experience Night at the Museum on IMAX; but it turned out not to be an IMAX theater. Instead, it was an OMNIMAX theater. Of course, neither term meant much to me one way or another until I actually entered the obelisk and discovered the difference. We waited in a long line to insure we could all sit together since it was "first come, first serve" situation rather than assigned seating. Finally, the doors opened and we entered only to be totally awestruck by the sheer size and magnitude of theater. We made our way up to the seats by climbing several levels of stairs and settled into fairly comfortable seats without much legroom (which I find typical of most theaters).

The screen was dome-shaped and seemed to cover an eternal space up, down, right, and left. The curved view gave me a sense of being in outer space or in another universe without an ending or beginning. As though I had been dropped in a spacious prison located on a planet whose purpose was to surround me with unending false visual sensations that had no lasting value. I was trapped but decided to retain a sense of optimism that my movie adventure would be entertaining and enlightening.

And so it began. Like everyone, I was entranced with the movie world that engulfed me in both sound and pictures. That sensation lasted approximately 3 minutes at which time a mental queasiness overtook my every being, and I realized that the next hour and half would feel like a 2x4 was knocking on my skull with a constant dull thud as I expended some effort to try to survive this movie. For one thing, I could not see all the action at once. It was too close and too wide. For another, the sudden scene changes left me spinning and unable to process what had just happened. Furthermore, my neck quickly ached as I looked up and down and sideways at all the action on the screen.

It was similar to a roller coaster but without the openness and without the moments of reprieve and mostly without the fun. Like a whirling trap from which there is no escape and no end and from which there is only mental anguish and pain. All in all, it was an awful experience that I do not wish to repeat. Adding to my consternation was the awareness that everyone else, including my family, loved it. The theater was full of joy, laughter, excitement, and energy.

So my conclusion is that while this OMNIMAX may be a positive thing for most, for me it is not. Bigger does not make it better. Only different and in this case, worse!

Tuesday, December 26, 2006

A Need Met...

While waiting for some food at a nearby fast-food restaurant, not one of the more well-known chains in the area, in fact, it is not a franchise at all, but rather a small, privately owned establishment with a unique specialty in its fare, I noticed an African-American poorly dressed and waiting for his order. He wore inexpensive, dirty pants, a wrinkled t-shirt, and a pair of boots with the bottom sole not completely attached to the shoe. This was a cold, winter day and like everyone, he was cold from having been outside. Unlike the others in the restaurant, with their warm jackets and coats, this gentleman did not have a coat and was wearing only a T-shirt.

He was also having some difficulty comprehending the money exchange and the expected order for food. He referred to a piece of paper that apparently someone had given him, but his reading ability was negligible. He obviously had some learning disabilities and was very uncomfortable ordering the necessary items. At the same time, he was shaking both from the cold and from nervousness. But he was also intent on his task to make sure he did it well and came out with the correct food. I glanced outside to see a lady obviously waiting for him as she sat behind the wheel of an old tan vehicle.

Inside the small waiting area were a nice looking couple and two other men either waiting for their food or about to order. The nice looking couple were dressed warmly with conservative but nice clothes and showed signs of attention to detail and self-respect in that their appearance included clean pants, fairly new shoes, and a perceptive awareness of their surroundings and the people in the room. They were pleasant, friendly, and patient.

The man with the piece of paper in his hands received his food and showed the cashier his list to make sure he had received everything correctly. While he did this, the other man removed his jacket and said, "You know, I don't need this jacket anymore and I bet it would fit you perfectly." He then took it off, placed it around the other man and left with a big smile on his face. I looked at the couple in amazement as they got in their car and drove off. The man with the "new" coat looked around the room and said, "They gave me a coat and I didn't even ask for it." He then said, "I had one but it was all torn up so I had to throw it away. This will help me not to be cold." He had a big grin on his face, left the restaurant, went to his car, and left with the food and a coat on his back.

As I reflect on this incident, I realize that the man who gave the coat recognized a need and met it without grandeur, without expectations, and without affirmation of the good deed. He gave freely and got nothing in return. Perhaps this is the greatest expression of love we can offer. To give and expect nothing in return. God gave us His love and His grace freely and that love continues to be given. Our method of demonstrating that love is to extend it, feed it, let it grow, and demonstrate it at every opportunity.

Sunday, December 24, 2006

Blogging Responsibility

"...the Internet, like all free markets, has a way of gratifying the mediocrity of the masses"--Joseph Rago.

I love this quote. I hate this quote. It is so true and so wrong. It cuts to the chase so to speak and insults many people including myself. The quote came from an article criticizing the writing ability and thought processes that take place in the seemingly unlimited number of blogs being produced almost daily throughout the world. Blogging is a shockingly new "art" form allowing anyone regardless of his education level, status, income, race, gender, or age to participate in world-wide publishing. It is an awesome experience that is both exhilarating and frightening, enlightening and dangerous. This is due to the awesome impact and responsibility of the written word.

Thoughts tend to be random, selfish, entertaining, and devoid of any kind of meaningful collective purpose. Writing (to use an archaic term since we really do not write any longer. We really are typing or inputting but not writing), whether fiction or non-fiction, traditionally, has been goal-oriented, directed, and reserved for the educated and/or creative elite. This is partly or even mostly due to market constraints and publishing demands. A publisher does not and will not want to produce a work that will not turn a profit. Respect for the craft or art (another great topic) of the piece may encourage "taking a risk" in publication, but sales will ultimately determine its place in the world of the written word.

But now, with blogging, which is in effect publishing, where is the accountability and where is the establishment of a standard? Who determines excellence in content and form? Are we going to slowly but surely lose the "expert" editor? How will we separate the wheat from the chaff? Maybe it will all be wheat? Or maybe it will all be chaff? A frightening thought for sure. Unlike the world of popular culture, food, and merchandise, the academic literary world has been held accountable (or hostage depending on your experience) through publishers, editors, scholars, experts, and of course readers.

Blogging, however, opens the door for literary masterpieces to be produced by virtually anyone in the world and available to everyone. It also opens the door for literary garbage and potentially damaging, corrupt, dissident, and uninformed writing that in the wrong hands could create discord and havoc. Only the individual is culpable and quality is determined by the reader without any kind of accountability or burden of proof of excellence. It is freedom of the press at its finest and its most terrifying.

But in the end, the masses choose the excellence. The demand for blogging, for ideas, for knowledge, and for perception have led to the vast array of published thoughts. Some are life-changing, some are perhaps world-changing, some are worthless and some are corrupt; but blogging has given all of us the right to put in print our thoughts. May we do so with grave responsibility and may we do so with commitment to the highest standard of excellence available to us. Bloggers should not aim to "gratify mediocrity" but instead should dedicate themselves to serve and oblige arete within the confines of personal ability.

Like a carpenter given adequate tools for creation, or an artist with brushes, paint, and canvas, blogging provides the tools, the impetus, and the instant ability for the sharing of ideas in print. Time and the masses will decide the value. Not only is this nothing new, it is also right.

Saturday, December 23, 2006

Sofa named Sol-fa!

It all began at the factory as I slowly but surely self-actualized into a sofa. Like others similar to my ilk, I had little personality and no character until it was decided I would be covered with cloth and with a color unique to me—an off-red, burgundy rust color, a color with personality, not too bright or ostentatious but with a depth of intelligence not immediately discernible but obviously urbane and sophisticated. The finishing touches were made with two matching pillows and I was shipped off to a large store in Brownwood, Texas where I resided for several months.

At first I was excited to be in my new surroundings where the climate was generally comfortable and I had friends. But soon my friends disappeared and were replaced with more friends who again were purchased and the cycle continued as I remained in place. I become somewhat lonely and withdrawn as I sat on the floor being admired but never purchased. Sort of a bridesmaid, but never a bride. I began to doubt myself and question my appearance. Was I ugly, uncomfortable, or too unique to ever fit in anywhere? My confidence began to dissipate and I felt alone, destined for a bland life on the floor of a store where eventually I would be placed in a back room—a cemetery of unwanted furniture.

Then one day it happened. At first it seemed an ordinary day of being touched and even sat upon, but then lingering discussion filled me with hope and took away my despair and my fear of eternal loneliness. The conversation was warm, positive, excited, energetic, and even a little garrulous! Loved, wanted, admired, and eventually purchased was I. The next day I was delivered to a beautiful office at a University known for its academic integrity and Christian values. The office was full of music, books, poetry, and art. I had found a home and was happy. My new owner was full of gratitude for my presence and demonstrated care and nice treatment as he experimented with the best location.

He cleverly named me Sol-fa, an abbreviation of solfeggio, which is a play on words since this name references singing syllables used in music education. I am honored to have this name and honored to be in this office. I could not have found a better home. Thank you.

Friday, December 22, 2006

Lost Art of Caroling

Sadly, the days of people gathering together to sing Christmas carols seem to be gone. Disappeared with drive-in theaters, black and white televisions, dial telephones, record players, and honest politicians (forgive me for the cheap shot). Recently, our church gathered for an evening of caroling and giving of gifts to the elderly in nursing homes. Unfortunately, very few showed up for this annual event. I myself was under the weather and missed as well. But each year there are fewer people dedicated to the art of Christmas caroling. I recall the days of people gathering and breaking into a carol that included White Christmas, Joy to the World, Jingle Bells, O Come All Ye Faithful, and even Frosty the Snowman. Old and young alike would sing with great joy and zeal, the result being guaranteed smiles on everyone’s face. Often the singing would be accompanied by some cookies, wassail, eggnog, and Christmas stories about family times of opening gifts, Santa Claus and the inevitable, “I remember when…” story of a funny mix-up in gifts.

Singing bonds people together with commonality and unified purpose. Singing is good for the lungs and great for the soul, and singing Christmas carols is especially gratifying with its seasonal bliss and service to the greater good. Carols are rich in story, meaningful in content, and melodically satisfying. Carols have withstood the artistic test of time and often combine the greatest elements of folk song and classical development. In the case of The First Noel, for example, the text and music blend together in a beautiful marriage destined for musical eternity.

But the days of carol singing are slipping away as society and culture shifts into a different mindset and practice. As in most societal transformations, there is probably no one particular reason for this change but is probably the result of several things. One thing is obvious, people today, in general, do not sing as much as they once did. Oh, there are pockets of singers around and there are still church choirs and schools continue to have thriving choral programs, but rarely is there an outburst of collective singing when people are together.

Why? What has caused this situation? I postulate that the amateur, which includes most of us, feels threatened by the constant “professional” musical performances heard on the radio, in stores, in concerts, and on the television. There is a feeling that there is no place for the average or the untrained or the unrecorded. Or perhaps it is the fear of not knowing the words or public embarrassment in some way. Music is such a vital part of our lives but more in a passive sense than an active one. We are moving toward our musical needs being met by the professional without the public participation found in earlier times. Maybe it is fear but maybe it is apathy.

Or even worse, maybe it is that we no longer value singing as having any meaning. But I do not subscribe to this view since I regularly see people singing in the car to the radio, and I watch students moving and singing to live music every chance they get. So as I write this and pontificate, I am beginning to think that Christmas carols as a genre have lost their appeal. We have been so inundated with carols of every type that it is no longer special to sing the very things we hear all the time.

I am anxious for your opinion, so please comment on this blog. Agree or disagree with me. Perhaps my thesis is wrong. I look for an answer to the two questions: Is the art of Christmas caroling disappearing from our society? If so, why?

Thursday, December 21, 2006

Gift Giving

When the three wise men traveled from afar to deliver gifts to the newborn baby Jesus, they began a tradition that continues today—the tradition of gift giving. We love it, we treasure it, we sacrifice time, energy, and lots of money for the tradition. At this time of year the wealthiest may receive houses, yachts, airplanes, land, stock options, and automobiles. Others may receive clothes, costume jewelry, toys, food, shoes, gift certificates, books, movies, compact discs, and electronic equipment.

Some have traveled many distances for family time, whereas others have stayed close to home. Many have ordered gifts through the Internet but many others prefer to touch and feel the gift prior to its purchase. Some have found a small specialty shop but others found the large department store and braved a difficult parking situation in order to find the perfect gift. The hustle and bustle of gift buying coupled with candy-making, cookie, baking, decorating, light hanging, Christmas caroling (another topic for later), concerts, and Christmas trees, all form a collectivist spirit called Christmas.

Of course contemporary society and the media are also working to present Christmas generically with emphases on Santa Claus, Rudolph, the Grinch, Snowmen, and general moral-isms found in the marvelous old films of which It's a Wonderful Life is my personal favorite with Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer being a close second. These films present warm, sacrificial, and purposeful parables that leave us realizing that we are not alone and we can make a difference.

Nothing is wrong with the rather benign and enjoyable holiday films, and icons, but there is also no taking away from the beautiful and factual story of Epiphany. Many churches honor Epiphany beginning with a Christmas feast and followed by 8 days of celebration with the feast beginning 12 days after Christmas. Different churches adhere to variations of this calendar but modern culture tends to ignore events after Christmas as having any kind of religious significance. Yet there is little doubt that the selfless tradition of gift-giving, regardless of the modern timing flaws, symbolizes the gifts of the Magi to the Messiah and in a sense symbolizes the gift of God's son to the world.

While the secularism of Christmas seems to pervade our every step during this season, I suspect certain practices will never change including the practice of giving gifts. Giving demonstrates altruism, love, compassion, sacrifice, sharing, and communal spirit. A Randian might turn around and say, however, that giving is ultimately a selfish act in that the experience is ultimately self-rewarding; but regardless of the interpretation of the act of giving, the fact remains that giving is one of the greatest of the traditions of the Christmas season.

In addition, giving can include a multitude of practices apart from the expenditure of a new item. I recently opened 3 gifts from a friend. None were extravagant but each was personalized and special. My friend had given the gift of love by sacrificing time and emotional energy. Each gift was perfect. Another friend recently gave a gift that showed much forethought and care. All gifts, large or small, pricey or inexpensive, are special and are always worth a sincere thank you. Giving of your time, energy, love, and talents is a positive way to demonstrate care of another person. Let us continue this beautiful and benevolent practice and let it extend beyond the Christmas season.

Wednesday, December 20, 2006

Predetermined Reactions Through Control

Although I work to control my environment, there are many things and events that are out of my control. This is both right and good. While it would be nice to guide, direct, and manipulate all situations, ultimately the adventure begins when the control ends. And life is certainly an adventure--a wild ride that though bumpy at times is also immensely rewarding.

But the issue is control. While we attempt to control many things in our lives, the truth is that very little is under our thumb. So much of what we experience are simply things that happen to us. We are shaped through our experiences and we demonstrate who we are by our reactions. So the question is not how can we be victorious over our need for approbation in a reactive sense, but is rather how do we avoid puling over the vast olla podrida of emotions that seep maliciously through our veins seeking opportunities for advancement through abdication of responsibility.

We claim that reactions are simply reactions without any kind of foundation or representation of who we are. We claim that there is no control over reactions, emotions, and ultimately behavior, that as we experience events and respond to them, we in turn become a product of our own deliberations. All then becomes an effort to avoid inveigling tricks and predetermined machinations that form our inner beings due to outside influences. It is therefore anathema and counterproductive to develop the psyche as a shield against the constant encroachment of demands that threaten to disembody our very being.

If human responses are not governable then all is despotic, contentious, and contumacious without the parameters necessary for refined civilization. With this level of acceptance, we fall into the trap of irrevocable pessimism and loss of will. We are then victims of our own mediocre human frailty and find ourselves in a self-made slavery and personal tyranny of our design. Taken to its extreme, all personal efforts to overcome any perceived weakness are in vain. In this regard, the reaction of which we have no control is in fact a vapid expression of a shallow and constant flood of purposeless emotions.

And yet it cannot be. We are not shaped by our reactions. We shape our reactions through personal application and organization of our emotions and expressions. This requires discipline and order. But that in itself is not enough for it is useless to pretend that all emotions can be framed into a neat, clean picture of geometrical lines devoid of expression. We cannot and should not reject our emotions or attempt to deny their existence, but we do need to control them and educate them. This can be done through a process of catharsis--purging of emotional tensions--and reorganizing them into productive commodities of energy. A sort of galvanizing of the good and a dampening of the bad.

The control is impossible if we accept that we are molded purely by our experiences and our responses thereto. While there is little denying the role of events as deciding future reactions, it is also conversely wrong to deny the value of strengthening the inner self in preparation for the experiences that will fall in our paths. The adventure is wrought with joys, sorrows, fears, and excitement. Be prepared for it, react to it, and grow from it. Let us all control our reactions through self-governance, but let us also continually learn from the journey.

Sunday, December 17, 2006

The Singing Bridge

It was getting closer and the excitement was building as we neared the phenomenon known to the family as The Singing Bridge. Joel was beside himself in joy and zeal with the inevitable harmonious music of the upcoming experience. The tires rolled methodically across the bridge with the grooves of the road providing the "groove" of the road. The emanating music once again brought smiles on our faces and joy in our hearts that lasted well beyond the bridge itself. The Singing Bridge once again worked its magical charm and left us feeling cheerful.

Sound is caused by vibrations and when the vibrations are organized into pitches and the pitches are ordered the result is music. Now this is a somewhat narrow definition because it limits the ordered pitches into human expectations. When you limit your expectations, you are actually approaching ideas or in this case music, with a preconceived concept of what it should be. This, then, becomes a dangerous practice and eventually sets forth parameters that could inhibit creativity. But this essay is not about a definition of music--perhaps that will come later. It is about finding music all around us.

Fun, entertainment, and music emanate from The Singing Bridge and the vibrations send forth sounds that followed us for the rest of the day. Music is like that. We need it, we love it, we respond to it in so many special ways. Music can be found everywhere. In nature, it can be heard in the wind, in the birds, and even in the insects. In modern society, music results from constant activity of humans and machines.

All speech has rhythm and most of the rhythm has repetition (which brings to mind the repetitive speech of many people--another subject for another day!). Music surrounds us on many levels and becomes an invaluable part of our lives. For a musician, we seek to codify it and organize it according to our training. For the non-musician, we may not understand it but we can enjoy or not enjoy it based on personal preference. In the end, music is difficult to define but not difficult to love.

I challenge all of us to find The Singing Bridge everywhere we go. There is music in the most insignificant and seemingly superfluous events but it is the music in those times that provides the most joy.

Wednesday, December 13, 2006

Attack on Ataxia

In this oddly chaotic world, we often find moments of order and form and these moments give us objective rules that can be comforting in a systematic way. Although my general free-spirited and independent nature is rewarded through music, literature, and different adventures, at the same time, I recognize the vast benefits of governance and prescription. Somewhere there is a balance of free creativity versus systematized rigidity and as we journey through life, we hope we achieve symmetry in our expectations for the waves of experiences thrown in our pathway each day.

For our 17 year old autistic son Joel, however, he often demands order and rule following as a system of life and organization. Some of this is born out of his trust of authority and some of this, unfortunately, is a reflection of his lack of creative thinking. And yet, for all its stereotypical characteristics of autism, it is a charming trait and one that bears modeling. If the sign says turn, then you must turn. If the rule states cross at the crosswalk, then you better not do otherwise.

Recently, at a formal dinner, there were name tags placed for seating. Unfortunately, the person who was supposed to sit across from me did not attend the event which then left a seat empty. Joel's name tag was placed next to the empty seat. Joel, of course, insisted on sitting where his tag was located even after I invited him to sit across from me. After thinking about it, I exchanged the name tags thereby making him comfortable to change seats. He was happy to oblige and we enjoyed the rest of the evening.

The following day, Joel and I ate at a nice restaurant together and as we prepared to leave, I noticed a door with an exit sign and another door with an enter sign. As we neared the doors, the enter door opened with a couple entering the restaurant. Due to the efficiency of the open door, I chose to leave the restaurant through that door. But Joel remained inside. As the door shut behind me, I noticed that Joel was not with me. I went back into the restaurant and saw Joel standing with his finger pointing at the exit door.

The hostess was looking at him oddly and I said it would take too long to explain. We both then left through the exit door with a happy Joel and perplexed looks on other people's faces. Joel followed the rules and was satisfied. He often reminds us of the speed limit, the red lights, the stop signs, the parking signs, and all the other myriad rules that help govern our behavior. In the library, he quickly but deliberately places the books in the sequential order that is needed. Conversely, he is not comfortable in a chaotic environment and does not respond well to subjectivity or even excess emotions.

In Joel's embracing of order, rules, and direction, he in turn resists the ataxia often found in large social circles and in certain environments. He seeks to order his world and grows concerned when all is not as it should be. In many ways, Joel's desire for objectivity is often refreshing and reminds us that chaos is ultimately nihilistic and that cultural growth occurs through order not confusion. Let us all choose times to attack ataxia and respect the Joels of the world.

Sunday, December 10, 2006

Festive Fortitude

He spent his life as a musician performing and teaching, a family man, and a man rich in goodness and commitment to excellence in all matters. His was and is a fulfilling life replete with children, a career, laughter, love, success, and honesty. But with several years left before retirement, he received the debilitating news of the onset of Parkinson's Disease. A disease that would methodically and deliberately overtake his body, rendering him incapable of even the easiest and most mundane of physical motion.

All the symptoms were there and later it was confirmed by a physician. In addition to muscle stiffness, uncontrollable tremors, and a general feeling of physical sluggishness, was the need to hold on to things when walking for fear of falling down. His speech became slower and softer with little definition and displayed a marked lack of vocal articulation. It was Parkinson's Disease and the future was somber with little hope of improvement. His own countenance became atramentous, as though he became a shadow of his former self who carried his disease everywhere he went, like the sun entering a long eclipse from when there is no end. He gave up on his life as an active musician and was resigned to finishing his stellar career as a teacher in decline without the same level of musical performing application that had been such an important part of his life.

And yet, due in part to the medical profession and in part to the courage and application of the human spirit, he discovered he was not through as a musician. He was not ready to quit, not ready to give up, and mostly not ready to let it win. Research, medical help, and personal discipline led him to heights he did not know he had, and he found within himself the same courage and determination that built skyscrapers, led us to the moon, built highways, and composed symphonies. He reached deep and set aside the sickness and rejected that which had previously affected him.

He now picks up his instrument and makes music, beautiful music of promise and beautiful music of optimism for the future. His music rings loud and clear for all to hear and he walks the pathway of success. Each day finds him with a smile, a spring in his step, and a song in his heart.

So in this festive season there are many heroes, many champions, and many inspiring stories of endurance and perseverance. And in this festive season is a man battling Parkinson's Disease. He is a performing and teaching musician, performing a song of hope, and a song of victory, and above all a song of human spirit. Each day as he teaches music, his life teaches so much more. May his song of strength teach us to face our problems and not quit. And may he have many years of music, love, and risible moments that make the world a better place for everyone.

He, who could give up easily, battles onward and he, who won't let it get him, has become a testament to courage and fortitude in this festive season. May rich blessings continue along his pathway.

Wednesday, December 06, 2006

Special Relationship

I have a special relationship with my owner. He takes care of me and treats me right. I, in turn, try my best to treat him in like fashion by offering to him the best that I have within me and asking very little in return. I am a horn--commonly referred to as a French Horn. My owner, Robert Tucker, purchased me used from my previous owner where I used to play in the National Symphony Orchestra. My previous owner believed, like Rob, that my tone is superior and my construction is of the highest order. While I don't mean to be arrogant, my creators from the Alexander company, used the finest metal and the finest engineers in my design. Few, if any, horns have the inherent beauty and warmth that I impart in sound. This tends to give me an edge over other like instruments.

In addition, I am a descant horn meaning I am three feet shorter in overall length from most French horns which, in turn, enables my owner to be more accurate on notes in the extreme upper register. Like most horns, I do have my idiosyncrasies with a few notes that lean sharp or flat at certain times and a few difficult slurs in certain registers; yet, even with those minor flaws (which incidentally are fewer than most), I am superior in many other respects. Unfortunately, I am getting older and, like my owner, I don't look all that great anymore. I have lost my natural attractiveness and my joints are getting loose. I am a little spotted, weak at certain points, and get worn out quicker than I used to. I am having to be repaired fairly often and my soldered connections are not holding up as well. But, be that as it may, I still have a charm and beauty that belies my old, worn out appearance. Inside, like my owner, I am as good as ever (I wouldn't mind, however, if he would polish me occasionally--it would at least make me appear a little newer)!

Because Rob treats me well and has recently used me for many great pieces and concerts, I feel I owe it to him to do the best job I can in all circumstances. Playing a Mozart Concerto and a Bach Mass within two days of each other, gave me an opportunity to demonstrate my golden nature and to prove to the world that even though I am getting long in years, I can still hold my own with the younger generation of instruments.

But not all is rosy between my owner and me. He often neglects me and in the interstice between playing, I feel unimportant and become less effective. My valves sometimes need oiling, my slides greasing, and mostly my purpose for existence--to make beautiful music--is negated. It leaves me rather pensive and lachrymose, without a sense of fulfilling my mission as a musical instrument. Yet one could argue that is also makes the musical times more special and momentous. My only other complaint against Rob is that my case is pretty worn out and I personally think I deserve a new case, one that will both protect me and provide great comfort.

In the end, though, our years together have served us well in a beautiful team spirit of cooperation and aesthetic enjoyment. Many thousands of hours of music making and we are far from done yet. We look forward to many more years together in our loving and special relationship that only comes from years of joys and struggles and years of searching for perfection in music. We are far from perfect but it is the journey toward that ideal truth that is satisfying.

The Test of Time--Brahms

Johannes Brahms was one of many great composers of the Romantic Period. It has been argued that he could be considered the greatest of that genre although it is certainly a difficult announcement to prove. But there is little doubt that Brahms excelled in many different musical genres and mastered the art of chamber, vocal, and instrumental music on a small scale and in large forms. His music is powerful, beautiful, touching, complex, unpredictable, rich, and provides that unusual marriage of sophistication and elitism with folk tunes of the people.

Through tonal melodies, modalism, and folk song, Brahms provides ultra-sophistication without sacrificing accessible, often enjoyable music. Drawing from musical forms of the past and using techniques that hearken back over 100 years, Brahms' music often incorporates stretto, canon, chaconne, augmentation, sequence, development, and variation technique. His application of creative contrapuntal complexity is not an academic exercise but instead provides a unified framework and a focus for his brilliant musical language.

Melodically, Brahms is richly German with long melodic, singable lines that seem to flow smoothly from one instrument or voice to another. Many composers tend to run dry over a period of years, reusing the same material, or altering it slightly and presenting it as a new composition. With Brahms, however, each composition, is fresh, rich, and memorable and perfectly blended with his uncanny ability for vital harmony that moves aggressively but always tonally through many subtle key changes and tonicizations.

But it is in the area of rhythm that Brahms excels. Rarely does his music change meters but also rarely does it stay in the same grouping of accents and unaccented beats. His constant rhythmic shifting of the accent mixed with the anticipations and rhythmic enhancements give the music a constant energy by propelling it forward. Although a little unsettling at times, the poly-rhythms, the syncopated rhythms, the fast-changing harmonies leading to a bold cadence, gives his music a mesmerizing energy that reaches into the heart of soul of the listener.

Although generally serious and at times rather dark, Brahms' music does have moments of great positive expression and uplifting emotions. From his piano music, song literature, choral literature, and orchestral works, Brahms excelled in all genres and continues to be respected as one of the musical giants of the Romantic era. His music withstands the ultimate test of great art—the test of time. If you can only pick one piece to hear, I would encourage listening to his 2nd Symphony. It is a marvelous work in all respects and greatly representative of his style, his harmony, his rhythms, his skill, and his emotion.

Friday, December 01, 2006

New Deacon

While growing up, I often heard these words, "Those Darn Deacons" from my father! Dad was one of the most devout church attenders in history and also one of the most critical. In his frequent capacity as a part-time minister of music in various churches, Dad found himself at odds with the local deacons of the church. Discussions on purchasing a pipe organ or timpani or handbells were common and any irritation was exacerbated by the inevitable deacon's meeting during choir practice. The result was a rather antagonistic relationship between my outspoken father and the leaders of the church. Therefore, I grew up with the view that deacons are the enemy and are not to be trusted.

It has never been a personal ambition of mine to be a deacon. My busy schedule, my continued commitment to my family, and my efforts to be successful in my new position as Dean, leave little room for any additional experiences. But as I type these words, I know that when God calls you to serve, you are wiser to say yes than no!

So it came as a great surprise when I found myself being ordained as a deacon. I experienced a wide variety of emotions during this service with the prevailing emotion being that of great humility. I am now among men who are giants in the church. Men whose devotion to spiritual matters is only excelled by their commitment to ministering to the needs of the people. How can I, with my many flaws, walk among them and be a Christian leader in the church?

It is ironic how quickly I embrace leadership opportunities in music and even in other capacities but experience fright and insecurity at being a deacon. God has now called me to serve outside of my comfort zone and to be a part of a ruling body and to make decisions that uphold His will in all situations. Am I truly up to the task? I think not, but I also recognize that God gives us the strength and the ability to accomplish more than our human frailty and inherent natures would normally allow. I suppose it is time to "step up to the plate" and be one of those "darn deacons" and to become the Christian man that God demands from me.

So I humbly submit myself to His will, and I seek his guidance and his leadership as I take on this new endeavor. While I remain very humble, and somewhat fearful of this new role, I also know that I can do "all things through Christ who strengthens me." I will fail on my own--as is always true--but will succeed through Christ. It also won't hurt to have a few friends help along the way! But it is time for my deaconship to be about serving others and not myself. I now work to toss my natural selfishness aside and instead focus on ministering to others. Praise be to God for this great opportunity.