The end of November is rapidly approaching, which brings to mind several thoughts, not the least of which is trading leaf raking for snow shoveling.
The next thought that pops into my head, since it’s Thanksgiving week, is that I want to put in a plug for a concept that we all associate with this time of year, but that we don’t necessarily practice in our lives as much as we should - gratitude. Yes, we will gather together this week, surrounded by our respective bounties, be they food, fellowship, family, or friends, and we will find some moment or two to offer thanks with our words or actions or thoughts, but do we take the time to really be thankful? I believe thankfulness is learned behavior, and as such it is dependent on each of us to practice it and to pass it on to those around us. It goes beyond the act of an individual counting blessings or following a long-established tradition of perfunctory statements offered and quickly forgotten. Gratitude comes with recognition of the worth of everyone’s effort and the great good fortune we enjoy in this time and in this place.
We have so many great folks to be thankful for here at The Music Settlement, from the fantastic instructors and therapists who bring the joys of music into so many lives, to the administrative staff who provide excellent service and thoughtful information, to our outstanding maintenance crew who make our campus the most welcoming place it can be. I am thankful for their efforts every day. I’m sure the same applies to you in your life, and I urge you take this opportunity to spread the good karma around a bit.
In my opinion, there is never a case of too much thanks being offered, and this rule should apply to the whole gamut of opportunities life presents to us. Thank the people whose work is often taken for granted but makes our world better - people who clean and serve and repair, or those who deliver or prepare or haul away. Make sure that your thanks include spoken words, so that they know it’s not just an obligation. Thank the people in your world, your co-workers, your friends and your family; never take it for granted that they know what’s in your heart. Best of all, try to be someone who accepts the thanks of others graciously: don’t brush it off and say, “Oh, it’s nothing,” which negates the gratitude being offered and leads to it being offered less and less frequently. Let’s face it - in these challenging times, when we witness the rise of thoughtlessness, rudeness, and incivility every day in even the highest levels of discourse, a bit of thanks goes a long way.
Another thought that occurs to me as we approach the end of 2009 is the oddness of the decade that is coming to an end. I don’t mean the events or history that occurred during those years, but rather the way we pronounce the names of the years themselves! Here’s an example: I was born in 1957 - that’s nineteen fifty-seven to you and me, not nineteen hundred and fifty-seven. My step-daughter was born in 2001, which is two thousand and one to you and me, not twenty-o-one. Why do we make this spoken choice? Is it because of the influence of literature? In 1968, Arthur C. Clarke wrote the novelette (and later co-wrote the film), 2001: A Space Odyssey, which we universally pronounced “two thousand and one.” Did it set the tone? Or could it have some relation to the flow of speech, with “two thousand and one” being a more mellifluous choice than “twenty-o-one?” Or could it be related to the general queasiness we all seem to have with this odd decade, the aughts? We have had a hundred years to forget how polite speech described the first decade of each century; perhaps it’s not surprising that we seem to struggle with the right approach. Well, whatever the choice -you say twenty and I say two thousand - we are rapidly approaching the year 2010. Time to make up our minds already!
Well, enough about that. Whatever you find to be thankful for on this last Thanksgiving of the “0’s”, make sure to share your gratitude with all who deserve it, and they will thank you in return.
Peace, and have a great week!
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Education is not the filling of a pail, but the lighting of a fire
We received great news late last week that, once you hear it, may not be so surprising to many of you. Sylvia Easley, the Director of our Department of Early Childhood Education, was selected from a very large list of nominees from all across Ohio to be honored with the Governor’s Award for the Arts in the category of Arts Education, which is presented by the Ohio Arts Council (OAC) and the Ohio Citizens for the Arts Foundation. This highly competitive award recognizes individuals and institutions in several categories that have made a significant and measurable difference in the lives of the people of Ohio through the arts, and will be presented by the Governor and representatives of the Ohio legislature at the annual Arts Day Luncheon in Columbus on April 21st, 2010.
Those of us who have the privilege of working alongside Sylvia every day knew she had an excellent chance to win this prestigious award. First and foremost, her legacy is unsurpassed in this region. Starting in 1965, Sylvia has been at the forefront of the development of our world-class early childhood program. She recognized long before it became accepted practice that linking education and social development in the very young to a music and arts-based curriculum enhanced each child’s opportunity to succeed. “I remember lobbying for the expansion of our arts courses for children,” Sylvia says. “We began offering Dalcroze in the early 70’s and Music Explorers ten years later - two essential classes that reaffirm my belief that an early immersion in the arts is so very important to the cognitive and emotional development of young children.” Sylvia lead the effort to introduce full and half day preschool programs to our offerings in the early 1990’s, an unusual choice for a community arts institution, but the need to support working families aligned perfectly with The Music Settlement’s mission of service to the needs of the whole community.
But I think the reason Sylvia was chosen to receive such a high honor goes beyond the long list of achievements she has brought to our campus and region. I think that it is impossible to relate the story of her impact without focus on her finest attribute - her great and generous heart. Throughout the process of gathering information for Sylvia’s nomination - from compiling her biography to interviewing her co-workers and peers, and to reading the letters of support from others that were provided to the OAC - anecdotes abound that illuminate her positive influence. At the core of it all, she deeply cares about children, especially those just starting out on the path of life. Today, more than forty years later and even though she isn’t in the classroom anymore, she touches each young life daily and makes a difference in their future. For three generations and counting, she is the most special grandma of all!
Sylvia would correct me if I didn’t add one more quote from her: “I am very honored and humbled to receive this award, but it’s important to emphasize that the success of The Music Settlement’s Early Childhood programs is the result of the work of many people who believe in the power of music to shape lives.” Humility is clearly one of her assets as well. Congratulations, Sylvia , on this well-deserved honor!
I had the opportunity to attend a concert this past Sunday which marked the official debut of the Almeda Trio as our latest ensemble in residence. The trio, all of whom are faculty members of The Music Settlement, consists of Robert Cassidy on piano, Cara Tweed on violin, and Ida Mercer on cello. They presented a wonderfully performed and artistically challenging program that included the Trio in D Major (“Ghost” Trio) by Beethoven, the folk music-inspired Vitebsk by Aaron Copeland, and Trio No. 1in D Minor by Felix Mendelssohn. The selections highlighted each performer’s virtuosity and provided a stimulating balance for the listener. We are very proud to have the Almeda Trio in residence, and look forward to many more special listening moments in the future.
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Can you tell me how to get, how to get to Sesame Street?
No one can deny that it’s been a rough week both nationally and here in Northeast Ohio. The news has been unrelenting, reporting the negative side of the human condition with little respite to allow for any sunshine to slip into our consciousness. To be truthful, it’s been hard to feel optimistic about our impact on this little blue and green world. But there is no doubt that compassion, caring, and fellowship still thrive all around us; they just don’t seem to make for good press when tragedies and inhumanity abound.
There are a couple of items in the news this week that are particularly apt examples of the better side of our collective nature. One is the 20th anniversary of the fall of the Berlin Wall. The other has been flying a bit further under the radar with everything else going on, but one that’s near and dear to our hearts here at The Music Settlement - the 40th anniversary of the premiere of Sesame Street, and the advent of the Children’s Television Workshop (now the Sesame Workshop).
Sesame Street, to me, is humankind at its very best. You can talk about Michelangelo’s Sistine Chapel ceiling, or Beethoven’s 6th Symphony, or Shakespeare’s Hamlet, but give me Big Bird and Cookie Monster every time. In my mind, there is no better example of the few impacting the welfare of many in a stimulating and creative way than the efforts of Joan Ganz Cooney, Carroll Spinney, Frank Oz, the late, great Jim Henson and company. For more than two generations now, they have been opening the minds of young and old alike to the lessons that can be learned from the world around us in the simplest terms possible.
But make no mistake - there is nothing simple about it. From day one, the creative geniuses behind (and literally under) the scenes created exacting work that appeared to be effortless. They made brave and innovative choices; they took the age-old villain of children, monsters, and made them lovable heroes. They set their happy world in a location considered by most people at the time to be anything but happy - an inner city neighborhood - and populated it with a broad array of ethnicities and ages, all of whom had the same problems, experiences, and joys as we did. Best of all, they infused every lesson and story with color, humor, and creativity. They passed on to many of us from an early age the joy of self-expression and used it to diffuse our youthful anxiety of learning concepts like math, reading, language, social justice and equality. It didn’t judge and it didn’t appeal to a narrow truth. It was brilliant and it was fun, and we all knew it implicitly from the first moment we saw it.
But there is more to the Sesame Street story. I had the opportunity a couple of years ago to see a wonderful documentary at The Cleveland Film Festival called The World According to Sesame Street, which shows a side of the Sesame Street story that few of us know. It relates the continuing efforts by the Sesame Workshop (SW), the parent company of Sesame Street, to create programming for children in countries torn apart by conflict and war that was custom designed for their own lives and realities. The SW folks are portrayed setting up shop in South Africa, Bangladesh, and Kosovo, and partnering with local artists and performers to create a children’s television show that regularly deals with the horrors of everyday life through sensitive and caring approaches. An example that remains vivid in my memory for its sensitivity and boldness was a featured Muppet character on the South African show named “Kami,” who was young, female, and HIV-positive. Imagine the powerful message this sent to children and communities in a region where HIV infection was widespread and those afflicted were shunned as modern lepers. It is a testament to SW’s sensitivity and vision that this character became the most popular Muppet on the show, beloved by millions. This is the legacy of a group of artists who are truly focused on changing things for the better, and starting the process with those who are most vulnerable - the very young. For me it is very special that the folks who showed such courage and vision 40 years ago are still doing so today and into the future. What a very special, sunny day it was on November 10th, 1969, and what a debt we owe to those visionaries who made the magic happen.
By the way, don’t you think it is just the perfect cosmic tribute that the 40th anniversary of the premiere of Sesame Street occurs on 11-10-09? The Count must be so proud…
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
Ah, to build, to build! That is the noblest art of all the arts.
“Ah, to build, to build! That is the noblest art of all the arts.” Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
How often do you drive by one of the many great architectural treasures we have in northeast Ohio and not give it a second thought? Do you ever stop to think about or try to discover the story associated with that treasure? Do you know that it is these stories that help to define the uniqueness of our region - a region that some tend to downplay or disparage?
I have lived in the Cleveland area for over 28 years, more than half of my life now. I have lived on the east side of the city that entire time, and have used the Shoreway (Route 2) as my main corridor to the east and west. When I drive into the University Circle area, as I have done thousands of times over the years, I have always passed and noted the building known as the “Holy Oil Can,” the Epworth-Euclid Methodist Church. It’s a true landmark building in this area, perched on a rise of land overlooking Wade Lagoon and anchoring one end of Rockefeller Park on Martin Luther King, Jr. Drive. The copper roof, dating from the 1920’s, gives it a profile and identity unlike any other in our region and is the church’s most notable feature, but the structure also features graceful granite walls adorned with buttresses and sculpture. These elements combine to give it a sense of soaring height with a spire that seems to go on forever.
All of us know it by sight, as it sits on one of the busiest intersections in the city, and yet how many of us really take the time to appreciate it?
I had the occasion to attend a meeting in the church last week, and I anticipated it greatly. I was finally going to get inside the “oil can,” and I got there early so I could snoop around. What can I tell you? It’s a glorious interior, with soaring but austere stone walls reaching up to a beautifully vaulted ceiling with a lovely and arresting oculus that appears to open to the pure whiteness of the heavens. The only breaks in the walls are absolutely breathtaking stained glass windows, with the focus being a large rose window that evokes the cathedral at Chartres. As I walked in, the lights were very low and the organist was practicing a complicated melody on their very fine pipe organ, and it was sublime. I admit I would have skipped my meeting if I could have, and would have allowed my mind and body to drift up with the melody to the ceiling so high above.
When I finally rose and turned to exit the sanctuary, I was surprised to see eight or ten other folks lingering in the pews, enjoying the same moment - all there for the same meeting. One man turned to me as we hurried on to our obligation and said, “I have been passing by this place twice a day for 25 years, and I had never taken the time to walk inside.” I understood the feeling. Not only was I struck by the experience created by entering the building, I was also humbled by the craftsmanship and audacity of the builders of the space. I don’t think I am exaggerating in stating that the use of such skills is rare in contemporary construction. Don’t get me wrong - I love much of the work being done today, in which flights of fancy that were formerly impossible to realize can be manifested in structures like the Peter B. Lewis Building at Case Western Reserve University. But the art of the stone mason seems to be rarely evoked with such effect nowadays.
I work in a building that has a similar pedigree. The Burke Mansion, built in 1909 and the home of The Music Settlement since 1939, is a beautifully preserved, 44-room mansion from the “Millionaires’ Row” age of home building in Cleveland. It features ornate plaster ceilings and floating oak and walnut paneling throughout the first floor, and rich carving and decorative ornamentation throughout all three of its floors. Our employees and customers are privileged every day to be surrounded by the glory of the skills of fine carpenters, plasterers, and architects from 100 years ago. University Circle, and our street, Magnolia Drive, are blessed with many examples of the labor and imagination of artists trained in the old world secrets of their craft.
It’s mind-boggling that the historic buildings we currently enjoy represent only a small percentage of those that existed in this neighborhood during the golden era of 100 years ago. I urge you to find the time to check out the unique structures and places from times gone by that we so often take for granted around Cleveland. Visit the steamship William G. Mather, now part of the Great Lakes Science Center, to experience the big-shouldered history of manufacturing that’s tied to our own lake and river, or check out Gray’s Armory on Bolivar Road in downtown Cleveland, or the Soldiers’ and Sailors’ Monument on Public Square (yes, you can go inside!) to find out more about Cleveland’s role in war and peace. Or better yet, take a stroll through Lakeview Cemetery off of Mayfield or Euclid Avenues and stop to gaze at the treasure that is the Wade Memorial Chapel, a wonderful little gem designed entirely by and featuring the glass and mosaic work of Louis Comfort Tiffany. This is just a taste of what lies out there; I’m sure many of you can add even more examples to the list. The key is to not just look, but to experience. The next time you drive by that building or park or garden for the 400th time, plan the time to stop and venture inside. You’ll be glad you did!
Have a great week,
How often do you drive by one of the many great architectural treasures we have in northeast Ohio and not give it a second thought? Do you ever stop to think about or try to discover the story associated with that treasure? Do you know that it is these stories that help to define the uniqueness of our region - a region that some tend to downplay or disparage?
I have lived in the Cleveland area for over 28 years, more than half of my life now. I have lived on the east side of the city that entire time, and have used the Shoreway (Route 2) as my main corridor to the east and west. When I drive into the University Circle area, as I have done thousands of times over the years, I have always passed and noted the building known as the “Holy Oil Can,” the Epworth-Euclid Methodist Church. It’s a true landmark building in this area, perched on a rise of land overlooking Wade Lagoon and anchoring one end of Rockefeller Park on Martin Luther King, Jr. Drive. The copper roof, dating from the 1920’s, gives it a profile and identity unlike any other in our region and is the church’s most notable feature, but the structure also features graceful granite walls adorned with buttresses and sculpture. These elements combine to give it a sense of soaring height with a spire that seems to go on forever.
All of us know it by sight, as it sits on one of the busiest intersections in the city, and yet how many of us really take the time to appreciate it?
I had the occasion to attend a meeting in the church last week, and I anticipated it greatly. I was finally going to get inside the “oil can,” and I got there early so I could snoop around. What can I tell you? It’s a glorious interior, with soaring but austere stone walls reaching up to a beautifully vaulted ceiling with a lovely and arresting oculus that appears to open to the pure whiteness of the heavens. The only breaks in the walls are absolutely breathtaking stained glass windows, with the focus being a large rose window that evokes the cathedral at Chartres. As I walked in, the lights were very low and the organist was practicing a complicated melody on their very fine pipe organ, and it was sublime. I admit I would have skipped my meeting if I could have, and would have allowed my mind and body to drift up with the melody to the ceiling so high above.
When I finally rose and turned to exit the sanctuary, I was surprised to see eight or ten other folks lingering in the pews, enjoying the same moment - all there for the same meeting. One man turned to me as we hurried on to our obligation and said, “I have been passing by this place twice a day for 25 years, and I had never taken the time to walk inside.” I understood the feeling. Not only was I struck by the experience created by entering the building, I was also humbled by the craftsmanship and audacity of the builders of the space. I don’t think I am exaggerating in stating that the use of such skills is rare in contemporary construction. Don’t get me wrong - I love much of the work being done today, in which flights of fancy that were formerly impossible to realize can be manifested in structures like the Peter B. Lewis Building at Case Western Reserve University. But the art of the stone mason seems to be rarely evoked with such effect nowadays.
I work in a building that has a similar pedigree. The Burke Mansion, built in 1909 and the home of The Music Settlement since 1939, is a beautifully preserved, 44-room mansion from the “Millionaires’ Row” age of home building in Cleveland. It features ornate plaster ceilings and floating oak and walnut paneling throughout the first floor, and rich carving and decorative ornamentation throughout all three of its floors. Our employees and customers are privileged every day to be surrounded by the glory of the skills of fine carpenters, plasterers, and architects from 100 years ago. University Circle, and our street, Magnolia Drive, are blessed with many examples of the labor and imagination of artists trained in the old world secrets of their craft.
It’s mind-boggling that the historic buildings we currently enjoy represent only a small percentage of those that existed in this neighborhood during the golden era of 100 years ago. I urge you to find the time to check out the unique structures and places from times gone by that we so often take for granted around Cleveland. Visit the steamship William G. Mather, now part of the Great Lakes Science Center, to experience the big-shouldered history of manufacturing that’s tied to our own lake and river, or check out Gray’s Armory on Bolivar Road in downtown Cleveland, or the Soldiers’ and Sailors’ Monument on Public Square (yes, you can go inside!) to find out more about Cleveland’s role in war and peace. Or better yet, take a stroll through Lakeview Cemetery off of Mayfield or Euclid Avenues and stop to gaze at the treasure that is the Wade Memorial Chapel, a wonderful little gem designed entirely by and featuring the glass and mosaic work of Louis Comfort Tiffany. This is just a taste of what lies out there; I’m sure many of you can add even more examples to the list. The key is to not just look, but to experience. The next time you drive by that building or park or garden for the 400th time, plan the time to stop and venture inside. You’ll be glad you did!
Have a great week,
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
o we’ll go no more a-roving, so late into the night
Halloween has been one of my favorite holidays for as long as I can remember. First, I’ve always liked fall - the colors all around us, the smell of the leaves, and the change of the season. Then, for at least a little while, you enjoy the transition into a warmer wardrobe; shorts and t-shirts are put away and you dig out the boots that were last seen somewhere in the basement. Now, this gets a bit tedious by about February, but we northeast Ohioians are blessed with amnesia when it comes to the baggage that accompanies shorter, cooler days. But Halloween comes along at the best possible time, when summer’s memory is still with us and fall hasn’t yet slid into winter’s icy grip.
Alas, much of my abiding affection for All Hallows’ Eve is also based on a world that is no more - the smell of the burning pile of hickory leaves that my brother, my dad and I piled up each year and set aflame (dangerous air pollution); the thrill of spending three hours alone with my friends canvassing every possible house in town for goodies (dangerous lack of parental supervision); and the amazing individually hand-dipped candy apples that the kind-of-scary elderly lady down the street made for every kid brave enough to knock on her door (dangerously unsealed food samples). Please don’t get me wrong - I’m all for clean air and safe choices, but there is a part of me that misses that more innocent time.
What really set Halloween apart from many holidays for me, though, was one thing (and, to the surprise of those who know one of my greatest weaknesses, it wasn’t ending up with a bag full of chocolate). It was carving jack-o’-lanterns! This activity has always allowed free range to my creative side and was anticipated for weeks ahead. I learned from one of the best. My dad was a pumpkin-carving artiste, able to knock out a snaggle-toothed face straight from his imagination without using sketches or stencils (not that those existed back then…). I can still remember the one October when he handed me a pumpkin and a carving knife for the first time and trusted me to come out at the end with a reasonable facsimile of a ghoulish face and all of my fingers still intact (come to think of it, add this to the list of banned pleasures in the paragraph above!). From that point on, I planned each year to top the effort of the preceding fall with a pumpkin face that was scarier, goofier, or more surprising than the year before. This became quite challenging by the time I was an adult, so I resorted to carvings that resembled famous characters (Bert & Ernie, Jack Skellington, Garfield, etc.) or to topical symbols of the day. While the challenge of being freshly creative can be difficult, I still enjoy the process of “creating by taking away” that each Halloween pumpkin presents. Its one simple pleasure that continues to be enjoyed by children of all ages, and I highly recommend it.
In my Music Settlement spotlight this week, I want to mention another October tradition in our area: the S. Livingston Mather Scholarship Competition for Male Voice Students, which occurred on October 4th at Judson Manor. The competition awards cash prizes to full-time or part-time students who are enrolled in college-level studies towards a degree in music, and the judges this year included Hazel Zehner, our Chair of Vocal Studies in The Music Settlement’s Department of Music. Hazel brought this competition to my attention, highlighting the fact that participants came to Cleveland from all over the country, with winners representing The Curtis School of Music, The University of Cincinnati Conservatory of Music, The Oberlin Conservatory of Music, and Indiana University, among others. Hazel felt inspired, in spite of the challenging times we currently face, that there was a strong artistic and broad geographic representation of vocal students at the competition. She and I agree that the arts are still very much alive all around us, and the talent and dedication of those performers reinforce that perception in a very real way. I also want to emphasize the fact that it’s instructors like Hazel who engage our youth in vital arts experiences, providing the framework for their future impact. Her expertise and dedication are legendary here at The Music Settlement. She also gives more than her share, as is evidenced by activities such as judging the Mather Competition. She works hard every day to be a positive influence on young people through the arts, and we are very grateful for her for doing so.
Have a great week, and a Happy Halloween!
Alas, much of my abiding affection for All Hallows’ Eve is also based on a world that is no more - the smell of the burning pile of hickory leaves that my brother, my dad and I piled up each year and set aflame (dangerous air pollution); the thrill of spending three hours alone with my friends canvassing every possible house in town for goodies (dangerous lack of parental supervision); and the amazing individually hand-dipped candy apples that the kind-of-scary elderly lady down the street made for every kid brave enough to knock on her door (dangerously unsealed food samples). Please don’t get me wrong - I’m all for clean air and safe choices, but there is a part of me that misses that more innocent time.
What really set Halloween apart from many holidays for me, though, was one thing (and, to the surprise of those who know one of my greatest weaknesses, it wasn’t ending up with a bag full of chocolate). It was carving jack-o’-lanterns! This activity has always allowed free range to my creative side and was anticipated for weeks ahead. I learned from one of the best. My dad was a pumpkin-carving artiste, able to knock out a snaggle-toothed face straight from his imagination without using sketches or stencils (not that those existed back then…). I can still remember the one October when he handed me a pumpkin and a carving knife for the first time and trusted me to come out at the end with a reasonable facsimile of a ghoulish face and all of my fingers still intact (come to think of it, add this to the list of banned pleasures in the paragraph above!). From that point on, I planned each year to top the effort of the preceding fall with a pumpkin face that was scarier, goofier, or more surprising than the year before. This became quite challenging by the time I was an adult, so I resorted to carvings that resembled famous characters (Bert & Ernie, Jack Skellington, Garfield, etc.) or to topical symbols of the day. While the challenge of being freshly creative can be difficult, I still enjoy the process of “creating by taking away” that each Halloween pumpkin presents. Its one simple pleasure that continues to be enjoyed by children of all ages, and I highly recommend it.
In my Music Settlement spotlight this week, I want to mention another October tradition in our area: the S. Livingston Mather Scholarship Competition for Male Voice Students, which occurred on October 4th at Judson Manor. The competition awards cash prizes to full-time or part-time students who are enrolled in college-level studies towards a degree in music, and the judges this year included Hazel Zehner, our Chair of Vocal Studies in The Music Settlement’s Department of Music. Hazel brought this competition to my attention, highlighting the fact that participants came to Cleveland from all over the country, with winners representing The Curtis School of Music, The University of Cincinnati Conservatory of Music, The Oberlin Conservatory of Music, and Indiana University, among others. Hazel felt inspired, in spite of the challenging times we currently face, that there was a strong artistic and broad geographic representation of vocal students at the competition. She and I agree that the arts are still very much alive all around us, and the talent and dedication of those performers reinforce that perception in a very real way. I also want to emphasize the fact that it’s instructors like Hazel who engage our youth in vital arts experiences, providing the framework for their future impact. Her expertise and dedication are legendary here at The Music Settlement. She also gives more than her share, as is evidenced by activities such as judging the Mather Competition. She works hard every day to be a positive influence on young people through the arts, and we are very grateful for her for doing so.
Have a great week, and a Happy Halloween!
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Children are like wet cement. Whatever falls on them makes an impression.
I’ve noticed a ton of articles, stories, and reports lately about the growing lack of civility practiced in public discourse today. It’s impossible to deny the evidence - we see it every day, through every media outlet; even those who serve in our august bodies of governance seem to be unable to control their own incivility. Whether or not we are at a level of anger above and beyond any time in our collective history in this country may be debatable, but there is no doubt that vitriol is one of our most common exports right now.
I have no fresh insight into this unfortunate phenomenon, other than to say, regardless of your beliefs or point of view, that it’s always best to treat people fairly and with respect if you want to receive the same in return. My approach is to avoid those who spew froth at all ends of the spectrum and engage with all who approach our complicated world in a thoughtful and courteous way. I suspect the vast majority of you feel the same. I do not find hate entertaining, nor do I feel it is without consequence when it is linked to an individual’s opinion, and thus is protected speech.
One of the things that most concerns me about this issue is that it is natural for subsequent generations to build upon the excesses of those who came before, which leads one to worry about what the future may hold. We need to raise our children to respect and embrace reasoned debate; it is, after all, a principle on which our country was founded, but where is there room for others when you are standing (and speaking) for “absolute” right? We are burdening coming generations with quite enough right now; let’s set examples for interaction that we can be proud to pass on.
There are, in fact, many wonderful examples of positive efforts being made to prepare our children and our future for success. Here’s one that incorporates music into the mix.
I had the opportunity to attend the Ohio Music Educators Association’s (OMEA) High School Honors Event for District VII this weekend, which featured performances by an all-schools Honors Band, Jazz Ensemble and Honors Choir. The event brought together young people from 15 area high schools for just two days to form three outstanding ensembles, and to then perform challenging works with great results.
One of the real joys of music is also one of its greatest challenges: working with fellow musicians to perform in ensemble, blending sound and expression seamlessly and communicating at split-second intervals. When you see this process in action, especially in the context of the accelerated OMEA schedule, there is no doubt that studying music provides benefits far beyond personal artistic expression. Clearly you need a good work ethic and concentration skills, but you must also hone an ability to be both “in the moment” and skipping ahead at the same time. You have to discipline you mind to go beyond notes on a printed page and embrace the dynamic of those around you under the leadership of the conductor or director. It is not for the faint of heart, but like all such personal challenges, the reward is so much greater than the effort, and the effort is always worth the reward.
I also wanted to thank the people who work so hard to make great events like the OMEA Honors Event come together. First of all, Tim Niederkorn, Brett Baker and Ben Richard, the chairs of the event, who worked tirelessly to ensure the best possible experience for all involved. Guest conductors Drs. Birch Browning, Scott Garlock, and Matthew L. Garrett artfully coaxed great sensitivity and expression from each of the ensembles; they truly seemed to be enjoying themselves on the dais, and their joy was echoed by their student musicians.
Finally, the greatest praise is reserved for the directors of each of the represented schools music programs who contributed so much to the preparation and participation of their students. These individuals, many of whom are carrying terrific workloads in light of continuing educational budget reductions, are the true heroes of the day. They give all they can to the benefit of their charges, and if they don’t nurture the talent, train the dynamics, and even sometimes drive the van, then none of the other efforts would matter. If you truly enjoy playing or listening to music, please thank a school music teacher.
Each of us should make every effort to provide examples like this one for future generations - working together, sharing ideas, listening and learning, open to the range of life’s lessons.
Have a great week!
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
“In every conceivable manner, the family is link to our past, bridge to our future.” Alex Haley
I had the opportunity this past weekend to see relatives who I don’t get to see as regularly as I would like, since much of my family is spread fairly far and wide. We were helping my Aunt Jody move from the house she had lived in for 50 years or so into an apartment and, as you would imagine, such a task doesn’t happen in one day. Cousins and second cousins had spent countless hours going through a lifetime of stuff with my aunt, trying to winnow down the mass into a manageable amount that would fit in a much smaller place.
My sister was also there to help and took the opportunity to give me an envelope full of items that she had in her possession – in particular, some copies of my late father’s “V-Mail” to his parents in the later years of World War II during his service in Europe, documents which I had never seen before. “V-Mails” were sort of a of hybrid telegram that allowed a serviceman or woman to dash off a note to those at home in a relatively brief and informal manner, which was perfect for a soldier serving on the front lines under trying circumstances.
What struck me at first was their conversational nature: it was almost like my dad was chatting about the weather, except of course for the repeated use of words like “foxhole” and phrases like “artillery fire.” He clearly tried to avoid sending stressful messages home, but as the war progressed and he moved into close combat in Germany, it became harder for him to seem casual and carefree. More and more, his messages began to reflect a sergeant in the 3rd Infantry who didn’t know for sure what day it was or when he was going to get his next change of clothes, let alone fresh food.
What struck me next was how important it was to hold onto the little things that for him defined home and comfort. Before he was shifted into combat, he had used his artistic talents to work as an illustrator and sign maker for special services, and in his messages home, he never stopped looking at his situation with an artist’s eye. He noticed both the beauty of the countryside and the devastation that devoured it. He wrote about his fellow G.I.’s in descriptive and evocative words that made it easy to place yourself alongside him, even though his reality was inconceivable to those who weren’t experiencing it firsthand.
But most of all, he worked hard to keep his mother, father and sister’s hearts at ease. He constantly wrote about his concern for them, and even when writing from circumstances of great discomfort, he had a simple gift for shifting focus from himself to how the folks at home were holding up.
The most moving passage was only a few sentences in a single note. He had spent several nights in a foxhole in deep cold, eating K-rations and listing to the sound of heavy guns up ahead, and he realized that it was Easter when he heard the bells of a nearby town ringing out clear and true. He called it “the most unusual Easter I ever had & probably will ever have,” speculating that it was the first time the village had been able to ring church bells for Easter in a long time. By the end of the messages, V-E Day had come and gone, and he was relieved but worried about the possibility of being transferred to the war’s “other front,” the Pacific.
I come from large families on both my mother’s and father’s sides. My aunt is the last surviving member of her generation on my mother’s side, and my father was the last surviving male on his side. I treasure every moment I got to spend with all of them through the years, and yet am always surprised to discover that I know little about how they really lived. Completely by chance, my sister gave me my father’s V-Mail on what would have been his 92nd birthday. I can’t help but think that happened for a reason. Family folklore is our birthright; it is an art form to be treasured and nurtured, for it is so easily misplaced in our hectic world.
At The Music Settlement, we have been part of this community’s folklore for nearly 97 years, through four generations and counting. We continue to build on the vision of our founders and predecessors, to transform lives for the better. This evening, Tuesday, October 13th at 6:30pm, The Music Settlement is joining with the Cleveland Heights/ University Heights City School District and the Office of the Mayor of Cleveland Heights to host a community forum to discuss our ongoing plans to develop a comprehensive early childhood learning center at the site of the former Coventry Elementary School in Coventry Village. The forum is free and open to the public and will take place at the site of the elementary school at 2843 Washington Boulevard in Cleveland Heights. All are welcome!
We are expecting a great crowd for this meeting, which is the first in a planned series of forums aimed at offering the public a chance to become better informed and more deeply involved in what we know will be a major community development project for Coventry Village and our region. We hope to see you there!
My sister was also there to help and took the opportunity to give me an envelope full of items that she had in her possession – in particular, some copies of my late father’s “V-Mail” to his parents in the later years of World War II during his service in Europe, documents which I had never seen before. “V-Mails” were sort of a of hybrid telegram that allowed a serviceman or woman to dash off a note to those at home in a relatively brief and informal manner, which was perfect for a soldier serving on the front lines under trying circumstances.
What struck me at first was their conversational nature: it was almost like my dad was chatting about the weather, except of course for the repeated use of words like “foxhole” and phrases like “artillery fire.” He clearly tried to avoid sending stressful messages home, but as the war progressed and he moved into close combat in Germany, it became harder for him to seem casual and carefree. More and more, his messages began to reflect a sergeant in the 3rd Infantry who didn’t know for sure what day it was or when he was going to get his next change of clothes, let alone fresh food.
What struck me next was how important it was to hold onto the little things that for him defined home and comfort. Before he was shifted into combat, he had used his artistic talents to work as an illustrator and sign maker for special services, and in his messages home, he never stopped looking at his situation with an artist’s eye. He noticed both the beauty of the countryside and the devastation that devoured it. He wrote about his fellow G.I.’s in descriptive and evocative words that made it easy to place yourself alongside him, even though his reality was inconceivable to those who weren’t experiencing it firsthand.
But most of all, he worked hard to keep his mother, father and sister’s hearts at ease. He constantly wrote about his concern for them, and even when writing from circumstances of great discomfort, he had a simple gift for shifting focus from himself to how the folks at home were holding up.
The most moving passage was only a few sentences in a single note. He had spent several nights in a foxhole in deep cold, eating K-rations and listing to the sound of heavy guns up ahead, and he realized that it was Easter when he heard the bells of a nearby town ringing out clear and true. He called it “the most unusual Easter I ever had & probably will ever have,” speculating that it was the first time the village had been able to ring church bells for Easter in a long time. By the end of the messages, V-E Day had come and gone, and he was relieved but worried about the possibility of being transferred to the war’s “other front,” the Pacific.
I come from large families on both my mother’s and father’s sides. My aunt is the last surviving member of her generation on my mother’s side, and my father was the last surviving male on his side. I treasure every moment I got to spend with all of them through the years, and yet am always surprised to discover that I know little about how they really lived. Completely by chance, my sister gave me my father’s V-Mail on what would have been his 92nd birthday. I can’t help but think that happened for a reason. Family folklore is our birthright; it is an art form to be treasured and nurtured, for it is so easily misplaced in our hectic world.
At The Music Settlement, we have been part of this community’s folklore for nearly 97 years, through four generations and counting. We continue to build on the vision of our founders and predecessors, to transform lives for the better. This evening, Tuesday, October 13th at 6:30pm, The Music Settlement is joining with the Cleveland Heights/ University Heights City School District and the Office of the Mayor of Cleveland Heights to host a community forum to discuss our ongoing plans to develop a comprehensive early childhood learning center at the site of the former Coventry Elementary School in Coventry Village. The forum is free and open to the public and will take place at the site of the elementary school at 2843 Washington Boulevard in Cleveland Heights. All are welcome!
We are expecting a great crowd for this meeting, which is the first in a planned series of forums aimed at offering the public a chance to become better informed and more deeply involved in what we know will be a major community development project for Coventry Village and our region. We hope to see you there!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)