“April in Paris, chestnuts in bloom, Christmas tables under the trees.” -EY Harburg
After reveling in a mountaintop experience, it often takes a couple of days to not only regain altitude and perspective; it takes a little time to fully understand what, exactly, just happened.
Such was our trip to France.
Escorting thirty-six young musicians to Paris for a three-concert tour turned out to be an incredible experience that I cannot fully convey in this newsletter. My words will fall short; our photos will be lost for the most part; and stories enthusiastically told to eagerly awaiting family members will reveal only a glimpse of the experience. What happens when vision meets strategy, passion meets energy, and divine inspiration meets faith cannot be understood by those who miss the mountaintop. But because it is now a part of who I am, I am moved to try to share it with you.
Paris was, at least for me, the fruit of almost fourteen years of musical training in my children. And found my heart explode with joy as I celebrated. After listening to “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star” played mostly with less than perfect intonation, more than ten thousand times; of the stomping, the rolling eyes, and the “I hate the violin” when my kids were too irritable to practice; of weekly 90-minute round trips to Westport for lessons: seeing not only my own Ben and Cristina, but the children in the orchestra ages twelve to eighteen, performing Beethoven’s “Fifth,” and ” Barber’s Adagio for Strings “in a medieval cathedral in central Paris left me exulting. Tears stained my cheeks as the music moved and took my soul to a height never before imagined. Friendships were forged with more unsuspecting partners, as common ground was discovered and shared. The barriers erected by political divisions, theological differences, and ideological disparities collapsed under the international language of love for music.
It was an extraordinary experience and I learned a few lessons along the way:
1) We lean on the high shoulders of the spiritual giants who lived before us. When one visits a city with cathedrals still standing after the frenzy of the Crusades and the many battles that were fought there, one realizes the magnitude of the spiritual convictions of those who came before us. Studying Chartres Cathedral – and walking the corridors of La Trinite and the Cathedrals of Magdalena where our children performed – allowed me not only the luxury of admiring stained glass windows depicting prominent biblical themes; It allowed me to reflect on the vision, inspiration and dedication with which they were created. In earlier times in Paris, religion was not a part of life. It was life.
2) Art, music and literature are necessary components to create a life worth living. As good shoes, good mattresses and good books are necessary elements of every childhood; good art, good music, and good literature provide the necessary nourishment for the soul. Wandering through the halls of the Louvre, and my favorite museum in Paris, the Musée D’Orsay, made me appreciate even more the importance of fabulous art. They don’t call these guys teachers for nothing. I am convinced that the world would be safer and happier if everyone learned to paint, play a musical instrument or sing in a choir and read classical literature daily. Music remains the universal language of the heart; Anyone who doesn’t understand this had better start listening to Mozart.
3) Celebrate serendipity. A lesson that I have already explored in both my book and previous newsletters is worth repeating here, as I witnessed, embraced, and practiced what I preach. Most of you will already know that I have an inordinate passion for the color lime green (or disease, depending on your perspective). It was pure chance that, while we were walking down a Parisian street in search of ceramics and French candles, we came across a lime green sofa against the brick wall of a store. I laughed hysterically. Where but in Paris would you find a lime green sofa in the middle of the street? I immediately sat on it, reveled in the experience, and allowed it to be captured on film. It was a fluke that, while walking through a tony shopping district, I was grabbed from behind, only to find a non-English speaking Parisian lady trying to communicate that her last name was “La Coq” and I could tell her where she was. Could you buy the Vera Bradley backpack she was carrying that featured roosters and eggs? Happily I told him, in English, that it was no longer available, but I told him in sign language to get out a piece of paper and a pen so that he could write the website where he might have some luck. The chance of that encounter still makes me smile. Perhaps it was a coincidence that our tour guide was almost perfect; that our flights were uneventful; that our hotel was perfectly located; and that the Parisian orchestra, which played a joint concert with us, was well prepared and charming. Serendipity or angels taking care of us: we celebrate each and every one of the small victories.
4) Food plays a very important role in celebrating life. Being French means having a passion for everything related to food. They unapologetically indulge in the culinary arts and enjoy all of its inherent stress-relieving side benefits three times a day. They support a modus operandi of “live to eat” rather than “eat to live.” And you can see it. The “coffee to go” is an oxymoron. It just doesn’t exist in France. Coffee should be taken sitting down, preferably with a friend or two, along with a baguette or crepe filled with sugar or chocolate. While French women may not get fat, American women visiting France can. I embraced the French gastronomic philosophy for eight days and came back with more “wiggle my wiggle”, if you know what I mean. Que sara sara (or is that Spanish?)
5) The charm and charisma still work. They are not overrated. From the hotel staff to the Parisian waiters to the Ralph Lauren store receptionist – everything met our needs with grace and charm. When an unsuspecting but gorgeous flower arrangement caused a constant tickle in my throat, the “Polo employee” asked for a glass of water for me. It was delivered on a cloth napkin on top of a silver tray. (When was the last time that happened to you in America?) When our orchestra met with the community orchestra for a joint concert, we were all captivated by its Parisian conductor, Sylvan. Young and vibrant, she radiated charm with her humility and kind demeanor towards us; the hot pink tie against his completely black “uniform” once again demonstrated the magic of charisma.
6) “Hello” means something. The French refuse to start a conversation without him. Once when I broke into my explanation that I needed several Eiffel Tower charms for bracelets without the mandatory opening of “Bonjour”, the store clerk stopped me mid-sentence, interrupting my jokes with “Bonjour, ma’am, How can I help you? ” How wonderful to remember at every step that today is indeed a good day!
7) “Bonjoie” means even more. Late on the second night of our trip, brimming with energy and excitement after traveling to the top of the Eiffel Tower, I accidentally said “Bonjoie” (jwahr) instead of “Bonsoir” (swahr). Sarah, the perfectly fluent chaperone I directed this misstep to, proclaimed, “Happy joie de vivre to you too!” As I walked up the escalator to my hotel room, I didn’t realize the extent of my mistake. But the next morning on the bus, everyone greeted me with “Bonjoie.” And so it was. It became our password for life in April in Paris. I can’t think of any better.
Our children glowed like sugar-coated gum scattered through the streets of Paris, dotting the main sights and sweetening each and every meal. I was thrilled and honored to have been a part of an event of such historical significance to our young and tiny youth orchestra. They were goodwill ambassadors for our symphony, our city and our country. I have never been prouder as a music lover, as a father, and as an American. Perhaps my experience provides an idea of how you too can celebrate life.
