Someone gave our son tickets to see the Bridgeport Symphony play Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony on Saturday night (at the same time Notre Dame was playing). My wife and I flipped for it. She won, so I went.
I’ll be honest. I like classical music, but I really wanted to watch the game. Maureen left yesterday for her first extended trip in nearly two years and there is just something about a night at home.
The seats were in the second row. My son’s cello teacher had received them as comps and she has little ones for whom the evening would be too long. His orchestra teacher from school plays alongside his cello teacher, so we were in the line of sight for both of these talents. Note to self: don’t fall asleep.
I had forgotten what it’s like to sit next to a child who is totally enraptured in something. I had forgotten how music well played can lift you up and carry you away. I even forgot to check the score of the game on my phone. Let’s be clear – these folks can play.
If you’ve not taken the time to listen to the full symphony, download it and turn it up. Written in a time when the world was a depressing place for the composer, when anxiety was high as a leader failed to serve the people, the orchestration is written to reflect the trying times in which Beethoven found himself. While we are all familiar with the opening notes, few of us have ever listened all the way through – to the triumph, the pageantry, the mystery, and hope that the composer finds in the end.
As we walked to the car, I couldn’t help thinking what a gift the evening had been. Not just because I got to spend it with my son, but because it had challenged me to stand still and listen – and it gave me hope for all that still stands before us.