It was a bright sunny day in July. I had just recovered from my first bout of Covid a week prior. Three years of a pandemic and I never caught it until now. I’m glad quarantine was over and I could spend time with my best friend. We contemplated going out somewhere, not sure of where to go or what to do. My friend mentioned how there’s really no place to go anymore to just sit and listen to music.
We also talked about going to Canobie, a theme park not too far from us. Not exactly my friends cup of tea but she agreed to it. She went inside to get ready. I went to the Canobie website to see if I could book tickets ahead, and by the love of God, they are closed! On a Tuesday? In the summer? What else could we do?
Then I googled events in my state. Came across a Music Festival at Plymouth State College. Sounds fun! We were just talking about not having anywhere to go sit and listen to music. I booked the tickets right there and then for that evening. I had no idea what kind of music, all it said was “Chamber Week” and at the time, I didn’t know what that was. I was just happy and excited we were doing something, anything!
My friend came out around 4:40pm, all dressed and ready to go to Canobie. “I have bad news, and I have good news. Which do you want first?” I said. “Bad news,” she says. “Canobie is closed today, but I just booked tickets to something else,” I remarked. “Is it a concert?” she asked. I smiled. But when asked what kind of music, that I couldn’t answer. Chamber Week. At a college, probably some sort of jazz or classical music. Not really sure, but we’re going. It’s now quarter of 5, and this thing starts at 7:30pm. We’re 90 miles away. Time to get moving!
And off we go to Chamber Week. Plymouth is a cute little town, neither of us had ever been here before. We park next to a clocktower and walk up to the building. There was a bench and floral arrangement in front of the entrance to the hall. “Let’s take pictures to document our fun,” I thought. We had to be quick, there were some older ladies heading our way. We didn’t want to look like the typical young people snapping selfies. We had to look classy, like we’ve done this before!
Upon entering the hall, we realized very quickly that we were a bit out of place. I would say the average age of everyone going in was around 65. We are half that age. “No matter,” I thought. I’m out of the house, this will be fun!
We got our playlist book and went in and took a seat. One of the first few in there, we noticed a piano and a harp on a small stage.
The hall started filling up fast, we watched as everyone came in and took their seats. I started flipping through the playlist book and immediately landed on a page with all the names of the musicians. My father’s name caught my eye right away. “Whoa!” I exclaimed.
My father played guitar and passed away when I was 22. What are the odds? Spontaneously going with the flow of life, I guess that means we were meant to be here tonight. It left me with frisson and open to this new experience.
A sweet lady named Bonnie came and sat next to us. We chatted with her for a while about the music. Bonnie mentioned how happy she was to see us there for the event. “Not many people from your generation come support local instrumentalists,” she said. We explained we did this at spur of the moment, not really knowing what we were getting ourselves into. She was intrigued by our spontaneity. “You need to bring all your friends back, we must keep this music alive,” she said.
The lights dimmed, the hall was packed and we were ready to rock and roll. Sorta, kinda!
There were about a dozen musicians, all playing distinct instruments for separate sets. There was a harp, piano, violin, tuba, clarinet, trumpet, cello, baritone, and some other reed instrument I never identified.
Each set played different movements and with each one we envisioned various scenes playing out, depending on the tempo.
The first one was a battaglia. It was action packed and got our hearts racing. It made us feel like we were on a battlefield with bombs dropping all around us. Planes from the 1940s were dive bombing and swooping down above us. I could feel the pressure of an old war helmet on my head as I ran through the trenches in a war stricken wasteland. The smell of gunfire and smoke was all around us. “That was an intense elegy,” my friend concurred!
Then there was a tango set. This one made me feel like I was at an underground dance club in the 1970s. I got a whiff of smelly feet and a basement. Maybe it was a mix of both. There was a disco ball, spinning and shining light on all the happy people. Everyone was swirling and twirling about the dance floor. The women dressed in their favorite bell bottoms. The men, standing on the side, watching the women sway with every beat. The music was uplifting with good rhythm and made me want to dance the night away.
My favorite ensemble was the last set of the evening. I envisioned walking down a sidewalk in the 1920s. I was dressed in a flapper dress, hair styled in a bob. It was a humid, foggy summer night. There was a street lamp that was continuously blinking. An old ford car with big round headlights and the crank to start was driving up this cobblestone road. It made a lot of noise, sputtering out liquid as it drove on by. The aroma of car fumes and gasoline filled the air. A tall man, dawning a top hat and a business suit, crossed the street and we made eye contact. I smiled and nodded. He took off his hat and bowed, as if to say hello as we went on our way in separate directions.
You see, I had never been to this kind of thing before. I’ve been to concerts and seen local bands play. This was incomparable. Living in the moment, I was able to go back in time to see world wars, discotheques, and cobblestone streets. To really feel the music. To live through and experience a different era that’s been long gone for decades. All by just listening to these incredibly talented musicians play their instruments.
Everyone at Chamber Week was living in the moment. Instead of remembering this night through pictures or videos, we were given something so much greater. We brought home the memories, the feelings, the love, and passion we felt through the music. This experience titillated all of our senses. We would not have enjoyed this excursion if we were taking photos.
At the finale, we all stood and clapped for the wonderful musicians who made us feel alive in these moments. We bid farewell to our new friend Bonnie, telling her we would be back with more young minds to show them the magic of symphony.
As we walked out of the music hall in complete silence, my friend looked up at the clock tower near where our car was parked and said “Save the Clocktower!” At that very moment, the clock went off ringing and singing. A great coda, indeed!
If you’re going to live anywhere in the world, live in the moment. It’s the only place you will truly feel alive!
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