Essentials For Survival

Today, I had to face an uncomfortable truth about myself: I'm under-educated.

7 years of elementary school
3 years of junior high
3 years of high school
6 years of college
7 years of intensive training in Eugue-Ryu Karate
17 years of intensive training at my chosen art form
25+ years in the field, learning something new every day...


...and I still don't know the things I need to get on in this world.

During a surprisingly long period of professional inactivity, I luxuriated in an passtime that many 'normal' Americans take for granted: I watched a bunch of television. Some shows were very entertaining. Some were a waste of time. Some made me want to actually practice- which should indicate just how wretched they were. I saw detectives, criminal behaviorists, forensic investigators, doctors, spies, widows, professional men and women, and families on Hallmark Holiday Movies.

And after all that, be they good shows or bad, one theme emerged during this past week. It all came crashing down on me in one moment of crystalline clarity: I lack two very basic skills that seemingly EVERYONE ELSE IN THE ENTIRE CIVILIZED WORLD already possesses:

1. I can't pick a lock.
2. I can't hot-wire a car.

Folks- in less than 24 hours, I saw an Autralian medical diagnostic specialist break into a patient's apartment with 2 slim little pieces of metal and I saw a housewife hot-wire a car to save her abducted child from a murderous kidnapper!

Where was I when everyone else was acquiring these valuable skills? "Tomorrow's housewives" were sitting next to me in Mrs. Short's 7th grade English class, and "Future life-saving doctors" were in my Speech 101 didactic encounter group during my freshman year at the BeeGee. Did I just miss the memo that told me where the after-hours extracurricular lock-picking and hot-wiring seminars were being held? Why didn't Scot or Greg (my dorm mates)take me along?

People- many's the time that such skills would have come in handy:

*The time I took my dog for an 'emergency walk' just before rehearsal, and locked myself out of my apartment.
*The time when My Momz was laid up in the hospital, and I had to drive 1.5 hours to my hometown to pull her meds from the medicine cabinet for the doctors,... only to find that she'd changed the locks a month before.
*The time when I had to jet to a concert, and couldn't find my car keys. (I'd have gladly borne the risk of a break-in that eve, if only I could have hot-wired my Triumph Spitfire. Of course, if I actually possessed BOTH life-skills, I could have locked the damn apartment door anyway- knowing that I could always pick the lock upon my return. It's not like my stuff was actually safe- seeing that EVERYONE ELSE IN THE FREE WORLD HAD FREE ACCESS TO MY WORLDLY POSSESSIONS ANYWAY...)

[at this point, it should be noted that in each of the aforementioned cases, I'd be using my "universally-known" powers for Good- not Evil....]

If I'm to believe what I see on TV, it's only by the grace of God or the innate goodness of my fellow man that I haven't been ripped off, carjacked, violated, broken into, and generally just plain ol' "punk'd" by my fellow man on a daily basis. If I had even one of these skills, I could at least make an attempt to break even. As such, I've been lucky. I've only been violated a handful of times in over a half-century of living. Perhaps more of us really are good than bad.

Or perhaps, TV is just jacked-up... and is the "vast wasteland" that Newton N. Minow coined it to be- just 5 short years after I was conceived.

For my part, I'm choosing to believe that Mr. Minow was right. The alternative is just too surreal to digest.

I think I'll stay away until 11:00PM, and tune in to Charlie Rose tonight... or maybe crack open a good book. If I don't make a stand soon, I'll be ripe for the new season of:

The Real Housewives of Flint, MI.

The Artistry of Motion

There can be poetry in the movements of the human body. Bio-engineered for an astonishing array of different tasks both large and small, it is a marvel of physics and engineering. The human body in motion is what unifies two seemingly disparate activities as ballet and playing defensive end on a football team... and why I can enjoy watching both in equal measure.

There is another practice which seeks to unify the artistry of dance with athleticism to create "physical poetry"- the art of conducting a symphony orchestra. In addition to the aforementioned attributes, a true conductor must also :

** possess a thorough working knowledge of every instrument in the ensemble

** possess a thorough working knowledge of the role of each of those instruments within each and every piece

** possess a thorough knowledge of the architecture of the work- its basic structural components, all the details of its idiosyncrasies, everything

** be intellectually and artistically engaging. Knowledge of the score in itself isn't enough. He must bring a unique, credible vision of the piece and be able to communicate that vision to a compliant ensemble. The conductor earns his accolades on Saturday night at Orchestra Hall... he earns the players' respect and cooperation in the Rehearsal Hall.

and.. on concert night, he must be able to communicate his entire catalog of wishes silently... using physical gesture as his only means of communicating.

So... the conductor must indicate to his players: tempo, volume, style, mood, balance of voices, style of attack, phrasing, the architecture and architectural details, pacing.... (pant,pant)... all at the same time. For the entire time.

Given that stringent set of demands (of which I've only tapped the surafce), it should be easy to see why there is a paucity of truly impressive conductors on the circuit. Some are beautiful to behold, yet inspire nothing in the way of artistry. Others are towering geniuses and artistic interpreters par excellence, yet move about the podium like drunken Kodiak bears. Some are human metronomes. Some are charlatans. Most are adequate traffic cops.

The rarest of conductors can combine it all, for a truly spellbinding experience- from the grandest of ideals to the smallest of details- and can do it without even a hint of ambiguity. That's a gift few are afforded... and why it's so important to expose the world to such rare gems whenever and wherever they are found.

It is in the spirit of sharing Great Art, ladies and gentlemen, that I proudly present to you, Charlie (5 years old)... conducting Igor Stravinsky's 'The Rite of Spring' -one of the most challenging and demanding works of the 20th century's Western Art Music repertoire:




Trust me... I've played under worse leadership.