Lost and Found

My alma mater boasts a college president who conducts orchestras. A six figure degree from this institution isn't helping me get a job, so I was thrilled when the college offered me free tickets to a symphony performance at Lincoln Center's Alice Tully Hall last night.

I invited a couple of friends who also appreciate good music and an inexpensive night out.

I've grown more fond of classical music in the past several years. It used to be a struggle to remain attentive by the end of a concert, but now my mind is too active to grow bored. It isn't necessarily an outgrowth of an increased appreciation of the music. Nor do I think I've become more focused. This trait probably reflects a more purposeful use of distraction.

Initially, I concentrate on the music. Then, I attempt to pick a thread from the sound tapestry and determine which instrument made the sound.

I was amused by the percussion section, and the utter seriousness of the triangle player as he approached his periodic ring. The gravity he assumed while preparing to play a single note seemed ridiculous.

Later I simply use the music as a soundtrack for all of the thoughts swirling around my head. I suppose the creators of Fantasia, Sesame Street, and Bugs Bunny cartoons were guilty of similar modes of thinking.

The last piece was Mahler's Symphony 4, which I really enjoyed. The 3rd movement made me think of an image of a bride with a veil and train blowing wildly in the wind.

I vaguely recalled a painting called "Bride of the Wind" associated with Mahler. Mahler's wife, Alma, had a heated affair with painter Oskar Kokoschka. Her relationships with creative men were notorious. Kokoschka created the painting after she concluded the relationship. It's strange that this information surfaced after listening to the music.

The weather in New York is in flux again, so I wore a light jacket and my favorite pashmina to the concert. The Hall was warm and I placed the pashmina beside my seat near the ticket taker. This was the last time I saw it.

The shawl has accompanied me around the world, and it is unlikely we will be reunited. I'm surprised that a Lincoln Center symphony patron didn't take it to lost and found. Another stereotype shattered.

I walked home significantly cooler. I suppose this was karmic retribution for laughing at the percussionists.