An abiding love

Last night, I attended a high school orchestra concert at my alma mater to watch my little brother play the cello. The school has a top-notch music education program, and in the past decade has won best in state honors 5 times. When I was a junior, our orchestra was the first to bring home that particular prize. So it was with both pride and nostalgia that I watched, rapt, as my old conductor directed this particular group of musicians. They're a phenomenal bunch, but the standout was definitely one Danny Hahm, All-State cellist and superstar, who performed "Kol Andrei" with such expressiveness and pure, raw talent that tears sprang into my eyes, unexpectedly. Watch out for that kid -- he's going to be a star. Here's a sampling of that piece of gorgeous, gorgeous music:


"Kol Nidrei" by Max Bruch


The whole experience left me, as always, with a feeling of longing and regret. I rarely pick up my viola anymore, and I haven't played in an ensemble for almost five years. That's such a shame. It's not that I was ever particularly talented, but I love playing music. I do, I love it. I love the warm, rich, resonant sounds of the cellos and violas, the delicate and more strident tones of the violins, and the heavy, profound vibrations of the string bass. I love symphonies and string quartets, concertos and cadenzas, elegies and etudes. I love it all. I miss the feelings that musical performance can evoke in me. Watching that group perform last night made me ache in more ways than I could possibly describe.

All hope is not lost, though. I still own the most gorgeous instrument, one I can pick up at any time. I can always join another ensemble (with enough practice, of course!). So I haven't given up that dream, not yet. It just might take me a while to get there again. And I'm okay with that.