I fully accept that I'm getting back to writing far too late in the game. What you wanted to read about (or maybe you don't) was the devastating early days of the pandemic-- the impossible decisions, the cancellations, the budget cuts, the furloughs and salary reductions, the forced optimism, the heroic smile, the dozens of uncomfortable conversations. All the elements that came together to force a monumental shift in the collective consciousness of the orchestra field about which it would have made a lot of sense to write. Keep a journal, everyone said. Write things down-- thoughts, feelings-- it will help you process. Did any of you actually do that? How could we? None of us were sleeping. We were afraid to go out. Our livelihoods were being obliterated before our eyes. As with most of my childhood, I can imagine that I've already forgotten or even blocked out a lot. It's probably best.
Clearly, I haven't been blogging. But I'm ready to start now.
I included the two previous posts as a kind of context. One from before I embarked on my Johnstown journey as I was preparing to move from Baltimore to Southwestern Pennsylvania, and then one from 6 months in. As of today, I've been doing this job for 16 months.
Last night, we staged our first public performance with our avocational string orchestra, Community Strings. It was in the mall. People brought chairs or stood on the second level to hear the music. It wasn't glamorous but it was what we could do and I was very proud.
When the first strains of tuning began, I knew I was going to have a lot of difficulty controlling my emotions. Of all the things I take for granted in my extremely fortunate life, one of them is unquestionably music. It's been present in my everyday since I was small. Playing, singing, chorus, church, college, graduate school, always enveloped in music, and in the last 20 or so years, very very high quality music. For the last many years, I worked in worlds where an orchestra was always playing and where halls lined with practice rooms were always full.
From the beginning of the pandemic, we tried to rely on playlists, livestreams, Zooms, and recordings. We are trying so valiantly to be okay with them. Trying is important. Making do is a thing.
But when Community Strings played last night, it became so clear what we were missing and why the other never worked for me. And I said to myself, "It's okay to cry."