I’d better write something about it, because I pretty much said I would.

Sunday August 3, 2015 4pm.

On the way over, Chaz driving, I made conversation by talking about my life. He answered by talking about his.

I like these drives through Berkeley.

We got to the church, first one in the parking lot. Probably means we’ll be the last to leave, after everyone else is gone. Once he got boxed in for three days by tenants next door who parked behind him but didn’t have a phone.

Oh well. At least we’re early.

In by the back door. Elysha was rehearsing Das Marienleben. Evangeline was at the piano. It gloriously filled the room. I crept around to the stairs, went downstairs to the gathering room, got two books of theosophical philosophy off the shelf so I’d have something to read until it was clear to go upstairs and claim a seat for the concert.

Then the guy came in who takes the money and gives out a copy of the program.

I went over.

He said, “I’ll be back in a minute.”

I said, “Take two.”

He said, “I’m only going to the restroom.” He may have said bathroom.

I may have said something like, “Don’t let me stop you,” or “Be my guest,” or “Take your time,” or “I’ll be here.”

He came back in about a minute and I said, “I brought money this time.”

He said, “I’ll take it.”

I’ve got to learn his name so I can remember it. He’s always cheerful, wide awake, very patient with me. Last time he took my check without any problem, even offered to help me spell Renee’s last name, Fladen-Kamm, but I had already written it in, having checked the spelling from the program. I wrote “Thank you” at the bottom of the check, which was for everybody in the enterprise.

I was very witty and clever and entertaining so he would be sure to remember me and look at my blog. I shamelessly mentioned my blog, that he’s probably already in it, has he been reading it? He said, “No.” I gave him my card. He might now remember what I talked about. I wish I could.

I told him, “I have a vision of a Christmas concert. The stage is bare, then the women come in from the left, chanting Britten’s Ceremony of Carols, and they sing the whole cycle, they don’t have to be a boys’ choir because everybody sings it now, and they already have the soloists needed.

“Then the women go out in the recessional and the men come in on the right, carrying a Boar’s Head on a stick, singing “The Boar’s Head Carol.” Then they sing “We Three Kings” with three men taking each one’s solo as a king, and they sing a few more men’s songs, I always like hearing Chaz not just for the fine voice which makes me a little jealous, but for the superb musicianship which stands out as he embodies the music, and the women come back in to join them in Christmas carols from countries around the globe in different languages, and end with a sing-along with the audience, carols everybody knows, and then everybody goes downstairs to drink wassail and eat Christmas cookies…”

Chaz had said, when I told him of my vision, “Sounds great, but we’re not doing that this year. We’re doing Bach.” I said, “Then maybe I shouldn’t mention it to Renee.” He said, “It’s up to you.” That’s also what the ticket guy said at the door.

So I gave him my card and we talked for as long as there wasn’t anybody else in line who wanted to pay for admission.

Admission is $20. I told him I had gone to the bank just because, and I gave him two tens. He said, “Thank you.”

Then some people came in so I got out of the way, charmed them so they’d want my card as the key to my blog, then I went inside and sat down at the table because the big cushy chair I usually sit in was nowhere in sight. I picked up the two books I had pulled off the shelf and looked at my program.

All Hindemith.

Then a big oversize guy came in with two ladies, he sat down at the table and they went into the restroom.

I said, “It feels good to sit down.” He looked part way in my direction and said, “Yeah,” or “Yes.”

I said, “I usually sit in the big comfy chair that looks like it isn’t here anymore.”

He looked like he wanted to go to sleep. Then the two ladies came out and they three went upstairs.

I got up to follow, passing two ladies buying tickets. I charmed them by saying, “I’d better hurry upstairs so I can find a seat in the crowd.” I thought I was making a joke, expecting a small audience, but there actually was a crowd. I found a seat and sat, putting my walking poles against the wall.

The lady I had charmed was sitting off to the right and we waved at each other.

Then, with everybody settled upstairs, Renee came out front and center and told us a lot about Hindemith, as much as she could because there isn’t as much available as you might think, most of which I didn’t already know.

She said, if I remember correctly, that Hindemith got into an argument with Schoenberg. Hindemith wanted to keep the connection between the audience and the composer, but Schoenberg didn’t, and unfortunately more people sided with Schoenberg.

She said something about the order of the cello sonata, and then Elysha started singing Das Marienleben, very beautifully. She’s an artist.

I love the soprano voice when it’s done right, not shrill, not strained. Elysha does it right. She also makes the music seem naturally the way it should be. That’s a gift that not every singer has.

Then she finished the first song of the cycle, words by Rilke whom I love as a poet, and out came John Ott with his cello and started playing the cello sonata, Opus 25, no. 2, First Movement.

Then Elysha sang the second song and then he played the second movement. Then the third song and he played the third cello movement. I could see how this was going.

Pretty clever.

They finished the song cycle and retired from the stage after bows and applause and Evangeline stayed at the piano and played solo, In einer Nacht opus 15 nos. 1-4, Traum und Erlebnisse, 1917-1919.

I had heard her before and said in an earlier blog how good she is. She uses both hands to play the piano, and each one knows what it’s doing.

She made the Hindemith sound like music we want to hear and are happy when we do. She’s an artist too. We don’t get enough of those.

Then the choir came out in full force and the women sang some, and then the men, all three, had a turn, and then they all sang together.

The end.

There were only two bad moments. One was when my glasses slipped off the seat I had them resting on and fell to the floor with a loud clear snap right in the middle of a pregnant pause, perfect timing.

The other time was when Paul’s phone went off with a loud alert that stopped the show for a minute. Again, perfect timing.

Then, after the concert, everybody congregated in lines to greet each performer, and I went from one to the next doing my usual, gushing, shamelessly mentioning my blog, proffering my card.

John Ott gave me the chance to say things about cellos and drop names, like Piatigorsky, and Rostropovich, Lynn Harrell, and, of course, these days, Yo Yo Ma. He told us, there were several of us clustered, about his own cello childhood, how his parents in horror said “No!” when he told them he wanted to be a musician. He told us a story we hadn’t heard about Hindemith, how Hindemith was hanging out with five or six of his friends and they made up a competition to see who could write a cello sonata the quickest, and Hindemith wrote the first four movements that afternoon, and in the morning finished the sonata. Of course he won the competition. I loved the story, which is why I just re-told it.

I told Renee again how she’s in my blog, she professed surprise, so I gave her my card.

Elysha and Evangeline hugged each other and said how much they enjoyed working together and should and will again soon.

Evangeline and her friends/family were going to dinner. So were Elysha and her entourage. They discovered they were both going to the same restaurant, La Mediterranee.

Chaz says it’s very good, food, ambience, and it’s now on my list. We should go there soon.