The story of Christmas may have begun in a humble barn in Bethlehem, but many people have managed to transform it into a lavish celebration of gift-giving. And let me say right off the bat that Kathy and I are among them. We take great delight both in giving and receiving presents, and have never
In all the years I spent dreaming about being a published composer, I never had more than the vaguest notion of what that would mean, apart from the thrill of seeing my name on the cover of a “real” piece of music that one could see in a catalog or buy in a music store.
What a precious gift was shared Sunday morning with anyone and everyone who came to see Holy Communion Lutheran’s annual Christmas program, “Look for the Light.” It is always a moving and inspiring experience, but of course this year was different. . . dramatically different. Just the sight of these beautiful children was enough to
This blog was going to be a lightweight affair about how from 8 until 10 this morning, I was busy giving the six-page final exam for my Vocal Diction & Literature course at Carthage, which included listening as each student, one by one, pronounced words like schiavo (Italian), plötzlich (German), and printemp (French) and posing
In the midst of a ferociously busy Finals Week at Carthage, complete with jury rehearsals that kept me in my office until almost 11:00 last night, it may seem strange that I went out of my way to take in as much as I could of last night’s percussion recital. After all, if stress reduction
I’ve said it before, but I still can’t quite believe it. . . there are strangers - hundreds of them, in fact - singing my music right now. On some level, I of course understood that this is what having a piece of music published is all about - sending your music out beyond your
I don’t know how many 52-year-old guys would do what I did last night. Having just gotten home from the Carthage Obbligato Club Recital (for which I provided some last-minute emergency piano accompaniment) and with my wife gone to a friend’s jewelry party, I had an hour entirely to myself. . . and spent it
If anything underscores the ridiculous pace with which time has been hurdling this semester, it is the fact that the 2012 Christmas Festival, “Love’s Pure Light,” is over and done with. I would swear that it was just yesterday that I was licking my wounds from my last summertime thrashing on the tennis court at