The lights signal the impending concert beginning and people are quickly securing their seats, programs in hand. The doors shimmy open one after another, stragglers who are apologetic, those who patiently and kindly dropped off their passengers at the door as they sought the elusive downtown parking space. Still others who needed to finish their last conversation/cigarette/bathroom break. They find themselves extremely punctual - just in time.

As darkness surrounds the audience, the stage florescence combines red, blue, green and white bulbs, beaming proudly, illuminating the members on stage.

The oboe offers his A for the orchestra sections to match their pitch :1) winds 2) brass 3) strings as the concert master encourages each grouping to play, tune and cease messing around. No doodling and noodling on stage with the audience listening, watching - we are here to play.

Firelands Symphony Orchestra February 2007 weekend performances.

Backstage, warming up is not only an opportunity to warm up the horn but another chance to speak with new friends. I've had the chance to play with this orchestra since 2005 and greatly appreciated the chance to continue to play orchestral horn and be a part of a group which plays in several counties. To be around people who understand me, not just as an officer or a new person in town, agent of social justice, sports mom or scout mom, but as a horn player. New baby pictures - nieces, grandsons, bragging rights for new family achievements, passed around left and right. "read about your son in the paper last week" or "heard that your neighbor lost her car in the plow debacle".

Of the members of the wind section (horns/clarinet/oboe/flute/bassoon) there are four pastors (including myself) so we frequently discuss the passage for the next sermon and what the study of the Word has brought about in the passage for each person. Intriguing stuff, deep stuff, resonating, grounding stuff.

We present ourselves in concert long black (dress or skirt which reaches tea length or lower) and tuxes. My don't we all look smart? A tux does terrific things for any man of any age! Though we are all on stage, our first piece only needs two horns, I am tacet for this piece. I wait for the conductor and his entrance with an irrepressible smile.

Rossini's Barber of Seville overture.

All I can see in my head is bald Elmer Fudd getting a haircut and Bugs Bunny holding the scissors.

I don't have to play a note or turn a page, so I simply listen to the lyrics in my head, and it feels exactly like when I was a girl having a bowl of Peanut Butter Crunch cereal, sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of the television on Saturday morning...

"How do? Welcome to my shop. Let me cut your mop. Let me shave your crop.
Daintily, daintily - Hey you! Don't look so perplexed? Why must you be vexed? Can't you see your next? You're so next.."

"Hey, where'd I find that wabbit?" "What would you want with a wabbit? Can't you see that I'm much sweeter? I'm your little senoriter..."

Placido Domingo, Sherrill Milnes, Samuel Ramey - they couldn't do this libretto justice, not be able to deliver it with the style and grace of Maestro Bugs Bunny. There are few cartoons which even excel to this level of character, expression and humor. I adore "The Rabbit of Seville!"

The last piece we play on the first half is A. Borodin's Polovetsian Dances from Prince Igor. Flowing, fast, FAST, FAST and in the center of all the passion arises the melody I attribute more to the Lettermen than to classical music. "There you are, you're a stranger in paradise.." My mother would play her LPs again and again, and her music just sunk in. Again, like a child, I am transported to a simpler time when the biggest job I needed to accomplish was keeping my bedroom clean and turning in my science homework on time.

The second half is dedicated exclusively to Beethoven's Symphony #7. Loud, fast, high - high - high for the horns bouncing us around in transposition from horn in D to horn in A to horn in E. We as a horn section have already been through three other transposition parts - such is the life of the horn player. Nearly talking to ourselves, we speak audibly, "The key is A, don't leave out the G#" for the written page carries notes that are different. High, fast, loud and exposed, Beethoven provided a treasure trove of passion, pathos, angst, joy, exhilaration in Symphony #7. For all the world to hear, this horn part has me sitting on high B naturals - tonic, dominant, tonic, dominant, all galloping along at an persistent pace of determination.

Without exaggeration, I feel like I have played 4.5 million notes these past 30 days, with the amount of rehearsals with different groups, performances, practices, tours, lessons; yet when I see them all, none of them come anywhere near the level of importance or exposure as the Beethoven #7, final note first movement. From a high staccato B to a staccato G#, the entire movement seems to stand on the edge of a knife. Will I join the halls of fame with Dennis Brain, horn virtuoso of numerous recordings, who took that note and sent it splat against the wall like a raw meatball thrown at full force? Or will I pick it out of mid air and deliver it shining, a major resolution, the third of the chord carrying the harmony of life at its best?

Dress rehearsal brought one meatball reality...a repeat for the audience?

Nope, we nailed it, nailed that chord to the wall. Nailed that pretty, shining chord to the wall.

All is well with the world tonight, as I tuck myself into bed with my heart and head flowing with music.
"Daintily, daintily"