Prelude

     The applause is deafening.  One might have thought this was a rock concert.  Instead, it is the end of the Finale of Beethoven's Seventh Symphony.  Michael Tilson Thomas, the Music Director of our Orchestra, the San Francisco Symphony, has just conducted the last exciting chords in Davies Symphony Hall.  The audience goes wild.  We learn to expect this kind of ovation for a concerto with a very popular and famous soloist.  Or perhaps for a Mahler or Tchaikowsky symphony.  But to receive this level of enthusiasm for a war horse like the Seventh makes me realize again how much music means to people.  And how great music can move listeners to cheers...or tears.

     Looking out at the standing patrons, I can't help but focus on one man in particular.  He has been a concert-going regular for a number of years, but this is his first concert of the present 2010-11 Symphony Season.  In the past, he has sat in what are called the "student rush" seats:  they go on sale two hours before the concert and are on a first come, first served basis.  But now, here he is in the Lower Orchestra, Center.  How fun to see him there, standing and clapping like there is no tomorrow.  His clapping style is legendary among a few of us musicians.  We call him The Clapper.  But I digress...more about him later.
  

      As the title of this blog suggests, I play the bass,  a very strenuous instrument.  As I mop my sweaty brow, loosen my bow and wipe the rosin from my bass, I am struck by what a great privilege it is to live the life I have ended up with:  playing timeless music with such talented colleagues, traveling to the cultural centers of the world and performing in some of the finest concert halls.  I also have a loving family and live in one of the most beautiful areas of the country, in a progressive city that truly supports the arts.  How did I get so lucky?
  

     As my car-pool buddy, cellist Carolyn and I walk to the parking lot after the concert, I am still caught up in the musical moment.  Experience tells me this week's  concert music will be going through my head until next week's music takes over.  I will have to practice next week's program in preparation for the first rehearsal.  But as we cruise through the starry night on  101 South, I am also looking forward to something cold to drink, a kiss from my husband and daughter, and a cuddle with our dear coon hound, Mona.
  

     This is a life I want to share with others.  How I got the job I have;  how I met and married Rich; the story of how our daughter joined our family; and for the animal lovers out there, a little something about the wonderful dogs--and cats--I have known.