Yes Please!

"There is nothing more difficult than talking about music." -Camille Saint-Saens

Generally we like to escape to the south during fall break, but there was too much to keep us home this year. Namely Alicia and Ryan's Week of Happiness (more about that later) and the four college girls that decided to camp out in our living room for the first half of the break. There were no cute boys for said college girls to flirt with until all hours of the night, so they fell asleep at midnight and didn't budge until 10:30 the next morning when I started whipping up the cream for Swedish pancakes. 

I enjoyed having Jess and her roomies in my home. I felt comfort in walking into my front room to see them all sprawled out on my couches and floor, in that deep sleep that only overworked and overplayed college students can attain. It was nice to have them safe and sound under my roof. Mom talks about how she climbs into bed at night and thinks about all of her grown children in their various homes across the state and sometimes across the world, and she longs for the day that they could all be safely accounted for within her walls, and she utters a desperate mother's prayer for their safety. I get it now. I get it. For one blessed night, they were all nestled safely within my walls, and I was calm and happy. After scraping the whipped cream off their plates, those college roomies were out the door to Park City for a homework and cello free weekend. I reminded them to be safe as they rushed out the door. Sigh. And the praying resumes. 

By Saturday, I realized that Neil and I had spent little time with our remaining offspring who still reside within these walls. After some Cafe Rio, we were off to Salt Lake for a "better-late-than-never" Fall Break venture. Jessica had texted that we had to try out this cool bookstore, so we did. I was delighted to find out that we were actually entering the old Sam Weller Bookstore, now Eborn Books. A little different type of bookstore but the same great old building with floor to ceiling to basement books, books, books. When the store was still Sam Weller's, I seem to remember a delightful afternoon with Angie exploring the nooks and crannies of this bibliophile's dream land.

This store is all used books. All five of us scattered and reconvened about an hour and a half later. I had at one time been holding three books, ready for purchase, but by the end of the evening came up empty handed. It tends to be the case with me. Either I walk up to the register with twenty books that I simply must have, or I walk up shrugging my shoulders. Nope of all the trillions of books in this building, not a one felt like it needed to come home with me. Neil, the non-reader, had about four books in his hand but whittled it down to one, a history of the missions in Finland from 1947 to 1997. He even found our names in the book. I told him that that book needed to come home with us. All the others could be found on any used book internet sight, but this one was unique. 

On our way out, Neil had something to show us. He had a smug look on his face as he said, "Lest you think I never look up from my hobbitcom and notice the world." (Not that I ever accuse him of such a thing) As we rounded the corner, he pointed to this wall. And all of the children gasped.

It was a good wall. Perhaps the best wall in Salt Lake according to our delighted children. Neil wins! I'm usually glad when we send him off to find a parking space. We proceeded to have a ten minute photo shoot with our wall. Sabrina insists that we have to come back here for her senior photos.

We were now running out of time, for we had a concert to attend. It was off to the tabernacle for The Orchestra at Temple Square's 15th Anniversary Concert. We had extra tickets, so we handed them to the usher controlling the line of anxious stand-byers. I know what it's like standing in that line, wondering if you're going to walk away having wasted your entire evening. At least it wasn't 30 degrees outside. Hopefully we made someone's night.

We found one of our regular seats on the balcony where the kids could get a nice view of the piano and the violinists. Usually we're on the other side, because Jessica insists on having a perfect view of the cellists. But Jessica was partying it up in Park City, so Sabrina won out this night.

I feel at home in this lovely concert hall. The benches are uncomfortable, but the acoustics are amazing. I feel like I'm in the land of my people here. People who appreciate the best music.

We spend a lot of time waiting for these concerts since their is no reserved seating, so Sabrina came prepared.

The girl is obsessed with Dickens. She found that charming collection of his short stories at the bookstore.

Sabrina insists that she was born in the wrong century. I felt that way at her age as well. I was sure that somehow I had been rudely plucked from Victorian Age England and plopped into 1980's America. Sabrina and I are kindred spirits that way. Yes, the child carries a pocket watch.

Finally the concert began. The first piece was Tchaikovsky's Concerto No. 1 for piano, with George Li as the guest pianist. The guy looked like he was seventeen years old, but man could he command those ivories. It kills me that when I talk about these pieces that probably not a soul reading this even knows what I'm talking about. So here is a youtube clip of Tchaikovsky's piano concerto. If you're feeling extra stuffy, you can sit and enjoy the full 36 minute piece, but if not, just give it a listen for a good 3 minutes to catch the gist of this breath-taking piece of music. This is not the Asian that we were listening to. This is Lang Lang. He is quite the superstar in the piano world. We probably couldn't afford tickets to one of his concerts. I'll have to ask Jess what she thinks of the conductor's minimalist approach in this particular version. Maybe a little Barenboimesque.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_W1_shm7vdE

But our performer was amazing in his own right, wiping the sweat from his face in between movements. When I listen to and watch these soloists, I am confounded by the thought that anyone could be that incredible at anything.  

After intermission, we were graced by Symphony No. 3 by Camille Saint-Saens. I have only come to truly appreciate Saint-Saens since my children have been involved in music. He was a gifted composer, and he was French, so that makes him extra special. This piece is also known as the "Organ Symphony". I can't think of a more perfect place for an organ symphony than in this grand concert hall with these magnificent pipes.

The organist was none other than the Mormon Tabernacle Choir's own Clay Christiansen. Here is a clip of the finale of this great symphony, but of course a recording does it no justice. You must be sitting in the tabernacle and feel the bench beneath you vibrating as the organ pipes belt out those beautiful notes to truly appreciate this piece. You must watch the symphony as the individual members move and breathe with the music creating a living breathing thing that's movement reminds me of the tide coming in and out. You must be in the room as the sound fills the space and descends upon the whole enraptured crowd.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eW-7S9fjyfU

I feel the Spirit in church worship meetings. But I also feel the Spirit during these symphonies. I am touched by the Spirit in the temple and in places of worship. But I also feel the Spirit in concert halls as I listen to some of the most beautiful music ever written by men who were truly inspired by that Spirit I speak of. As I sat in that room being moved to near tears, I was sure that God loves music. Or else why would He have this great building, and these gorgeous pipes, and this orchestra, and those hundreds of voices in His choir? Yes, I am convinced that God is a lover of great music, which is why He blesses many with the gift of music. How grateful I am that those who have the gift are willing to cultivate it and share it with the world. For those of us who bear only the gift to appreciate great music feel close to Deity every time we are touched by its melodic notes.

Forgive me for devoting so much of my blog to detailed descriptions of my symphony experiences. But if the rest of the world can blog about their latest marathons, then I feel that I can blog about my latest concert. If people can talk about at which mile the leg cramps kicked in and at what point their nipples began to bleed, then surely I can discuss which movement moved me to tears, and which piece left a burning in my chest so great that I could only alleviate it by standing in ovation with the rest of my fellow music lovers. 

Barenboim seems to describe it best in this short segment.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LCKZDSIHV80

If nothing else, I know that there is one reader who normally sits with us at every one of these concerts and couldn't this night as she was making the trek back to Logan. This reader will probably watch the above youtube videos in their entirety and will probably be purring in her seat at the Fine Arts Center. This reader knows what I am talking about when I discuss that elevation of the soul. This reader is also my kindred spirit. And I miss her. 

We finished the night with a visit to our favorite Patisserie, which happens to be open until 11:00. Apparently it is all of Salt Lake City's favorite patisserie, because it took us about a half an hour to order five pastries to go. 

German chocolate cake at 10:30 at night? Yes Please!

Books, Music, Confections with my family. Yes Please! Any day of the week!