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PROGRAMMING NOTE from the Author and Archivist


So obviously I just stopped blogging on this platform. I'll get back to it eventually. Or not. I'm taking a break from all social media. It seemed necessary for my mental health.

The last few years have been busy and … challenging:

- 2015 Happened.
- 2016 Let's call it The Lost Year. (Obviously words failed me.)
- 2017 about broke me. Literally. Mentally.
- 2018 was ridiculous, proving 2017 was just a warm up. (Good thing I was already broken so it couldn't hurt as much.#2018TrashCanFire I thought things were going okay, but maybe not?)

- 2019 was such a blur. I know there were highlights, but then stuff happened and carried into the next year...

- And then in March#2020 really took a turn. Who can even categorize 2020? Do we dare?


I kinda want a do-over of some of the last few years. But life doesn’t work that way.


So for now, I'm hunkering down. Regrouping. Trying to stay safe and sort some stuff out.


Stay safe everyone. Stay well.

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Monday, August 10, 2009

Summer Fridays 2009, Part Three

Day two of my extended Caramoor weekend dawned brightly, with moderate temperatures and no humidity. I spent a very mellow day as the office volunteer, doing odd research projects, designing materials for the upcoming Fourth of July concerts, and doing other office odd-and-ends. Lunching in the courtyard with old friends and colleagues, and running in to other friends on the grounds throughout the day reminded me again, quite poignantly, how much I loved working with these people, but how glad I am that I'm not in the thick of it anymore.

As the sun started to descend, the energy on the grounds began to shift into what we used to call "Festival frenzy," where the concert attendees bring their excitement and enthusiasm to the venues.
On this occasion in particular, the energy levels were quite different from the usual classical music crowds, as the evening's performances were by the famous banjo player, Bela Fleck and a wonderful group of Malian musicians, featuring Oumou Sangare on vocals. From the first beats, we knew we were in for a treat. People were dancing in the aisles, conversing with Ms. Sangare in French, entranced by the energetic dancing of the backing vocalists, and cheering for the collaboration of Mr. Fleck and the talented African musicians.

While most of the concert was given over to Ms. Sangare or a collaboration between Mr. Fleck and her band, he did do a set by himself to start off the second half of the concert. When he came out and started playing, it was just the man and his banjo. He settled down and started playing, like he was just playing for himself. He managed to envelop a tent full of people in a sense of intimacy and brought us all to a quiet stillness with his skillful expertise and shy smile. It's amazing how one musician and instrument can bridge cultural differences and show a world how we are all really the same, despite language differences, geographic divides, and colonial histories -- all through the power of music.

Caramoor's house photographer and videographer pulled together a clip to give you a sense of the concert, which can be seen here, or below. (Produced by Howard Beaver, Vista Studios, and Gabe Palacio Photography)

I was so honored that Mr. Fleck took the opportunity to sign one of his earlier CDs for me. (It's good to have friends on the back-stage crew, so they can get that done for you!)

It was even more wonderful to get to see Caramoor in a different light. I had spent so much time there over the years, running around in the dark behind the scenes, making sure that venues were set up, that caterers got where they needed to be, moving furniture, hauling chairs, fixing lights, being security, and/or being the caterer myself, that I often didn't get a chance to appreciate the beauty around me. Caramoor's just as beautiful in the dark; you just have to stop and look at it.


It's probably not an exaggeration to say that I'm one of Caramoor's biggest fans.
This jewel is in good hands, and efforts being made to preserve its legacy. The legacy of Caramoor can be seen in other ways. Generations of families congregate there. Series of siblings serve as summer staff. Parents bring their children to events, and those children bring their children in turn. Family reunions are held around particular concerts. Friends bring friends, while friends and family of the staff come to visit and see where their loved ones disappear to in the summer.

One of my biggest regrets about my 12 years at Caramoor was that I was so busy, or thought that I was, that I didn't take the opportunity to share it more with my friends and family before I left for the Big J. Consider these blog posts my means of atonement.

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