Tag: music

One Big Inside Joke: An Evening with Weird Al in Hershey, Pennsylvania

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The entire stadium buzzed with barely contained energy that only seemed to grow with each passing moment, like an electric current caught in a positive feedback loop. On the giant screen, a figure danced and sang through the backstage corridors, weaving ever closer to the arena. At first everyone’s attention remained fixed on the video. Then, almost imperceptibly, a ripple spread through the crowd as people realized they had been looking in the wrong direction. Heads began to turn one by one until the entire stadium pivoted toward the aisle behind us.

Then he appeared.

The stadium erupted.

Cheers crashed over us like a tidal wave. People leapt to their feet, phones shot into the air, and for a few glorious moments it was impossible to hear anything except the roar of thousands of delighted fans. It just so happened that I was sitting directly beside the path he took to the stage. I really must remember to thank my sister’s father-in-law for buying those tickets. They may not have been the best seats in the house for watching the entire concert, but they were certainly among the best seats in the house for one unforgettable entrance.

Of course, before Weird Al took the stage, we were introduced to his opening act, Puddles Pity Party. Now, dear reader, if someone had told me beforehand that I would thoroughly enjoy watching a giant sad clown sing power ballads, I would have questioned their sanity. Yet there he stood: towering over the stage, face painted in permanent sorrow, speaking scarcely a word while delivering one astonishing vocal performance after another. The juxtaposition was equal parts hilarious and impressive. Somewhere beneath the oversized clown costume was a voice worthy of Broadway. It was the perfect opening for a Weird Al concert because it left the audience delightfully confused, thoroughly entertained, and wondering what wonderfully bizarre thing could possibly happen next.

As the evening unfolded, I was delighted by the familiar songs I have come to love over the years. I could not help but dance along from my seat, much to the amusement of my sister beside me. Between songs came the signature humor I have come to expect from none other than Weird Al, who is truly a national treasure.

I am certain, dear reader, that he needs little introduction. For over four decades he has somehow managed the impossible: parodying popular culture with biting wit while never feeling mean-spirited. His songs gently poke fun at our favorite artists, our culture, and ourselves, all while celebrating the very music they imitate. If by some extraordinary chance you have never experienced his work, then by all means pause here for a few minutes, or perhaps a few hours, and explore his library on YouTube, Spotify, or whichever musical service you happen to use. I’ll happily wait.

After his grand entrance, he quickly pivoted to Polkamania! Announced by an accordion descended majestically from the ceiling as though it were some sacred relic delivered from the heavens. Before a single note had been played the audience exploded into cheers. I challenge you to find another performer capable of making thousands of people wildly enthusiastic over the arrival of an accordion. Only Weird Al could transform an instrument often associated with polka festivals into the undisputed rock star of the evening.

The performance itself was every bit as delightfully absurd as one would hope. Costume changes happened at an almost impossible pace. During the compilation numbers it seemed jackets, wigs, and entire outfits vanished and reappeared between verses so quickly that I found myself wondering whether there was some hidden portal backstage devoted entirely to quick changes. It was choreography in its own right.

The comedy never stopped. At one point Weird Al paused, looked thoughtfully at the audience, and confessed that he felt as though we were all waiting for something that we had a sort of weird energy he could sense and only one thing would satisfy us:

“A drum solo.”

The drummer dutifully struck the drums perhaps twice.

The crowd responded with thunderous applause as though we had just witnessed the greatest drum solo in rock history. You would have thought John Bonham himself had returned to perform Fool in the Rain. That, perhaps, was the joke’s greatest strength. Every single person in the arena understood exactly what was happening and committed wholeheartedly to the bit.

Of course, the crowning jewel of the evening for me was Amish Paradise.

Living in Lancaster County gives one a rather unique appreciation for that particular song. Much of the music video was filmed less than an hour from where I live, and here we were in Hershey, practically in the shadow of Amish Country itself, singing along with thousands of fans. It was the first Weird Al song that I ever heard, the first rap song I ever liked and I am not ashamed to admit I know every word. It felt oddly fitting, almost as though the song had come home.

I will readily admit, dear reader, that I am not usually one for concerts. First, there is the crowd. Simply reaching your seat involves weaving through a maze of people carrying trays piled high with pretzels and bags of popcorn, balancing oversized drinks, or standing uncertainly in the aisle while trying to decipher the seat numbers. Then there are the inevitable lines for merchandise, food, and the restroom. Add in the ever-present smell of buttery popcorn, soft pretzels, spilled drink, and several thousand warm bodies packed together like sardines, and I have generally concluded that my headphones provide a far more civilized musical experience.

Not to mention the audience often has the audacity to sing along. I realize this is considered one of the principal attractions of concerts, but listening to my favorite songs accompanied by hundreds of enthusiastic yet spectacularly off-key strangers has never struck me as a compelling selling point. Throw in questionable acoustics and modern ticket prices, and I have often wondered whether many people attend concerts simply to say they were there.

Yet somewhere around the third or fourth song, I began to see why people do.

There is something remarkable about standing among thousands of complete strangers who all understand the same references, laugh at the same jokes, and erupt into applause because an accordion has descended from the ceiling. Before the show you chat with the people beside you in line. During the performance you exchange knowing glances at jokes only fellow fans could appreciate. For one evening, you become part of a wonderfully peculiar little community brought together by a shared affection for one delightfully eccentric musician.

The excitement becomes contagious. Energy flows from the audience to the stage and back again in an endless feedback loop. I found myself shouting lyrics to songs that would not even make my personal top ten simply because everyone around me was having such an incredible time. Somewhere along the way I stopped observing the concert and became part of it.

It was certainly a different experience from seeing Joshua Bell last fall, where the audience sat in near reverent silence between movements, hanging on every note. Nor was it quite like attending Flogging Molly years ago, where the energy was louder, rougher, and far more chaotic. Each concert possessed its own distinct atmosphere.

But Weird Al’s felt less like attending a performance and more like being invited to the world’s largest inside joke. For one evening, thousands of strangers gathered not merely to listen to music, but to laugh together, sing together, and celebrate an artist who has spent his entire career reminding us that perhaps we should all take ourselves just a little less seriously.

So remember dear reader, to be a little bit bigger and little bit weirder. 

How might you find a little weirdness in your own life or at least some music?

You don’t have to be a devoted music fan to appreciate the experience of a live performance. In fact, I would argue that’s precisely the point. Bucket lists aren’t always about checking off your favorite activities; sometimes they’re about discovering something you never expected to enjoy. Whether it’s a local orchestra, a bluegrass festival, an outdoor Shakespeare production, a tribute band in the park, or your favorite artist on tour, give yourself permission to step into someone else’s world for an evening. You may leave with more than a few songs stuck in your head—you may discover a community you never knew you belonged to.

Step Up: Irish Step Dancing

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When I was a little girl, I loved watching people dance. I was absolutely obsessed, spending hours watching the Nutcracker Ballet and Riverdance on VHS. I wanted so badly to take dance lessons, but sadly, growing up in a lower middle class household we lacked the funds for dance. This meant I would have to content myself with mimicking what I saw on the screen in my living room with little success both from lack of coaching and space. Jumping around in my room, causing a ruckus wouldn’t have been appreciated. 

As I entered my teen years, it was something that I began to mentally put away. Dance was something that kids and teens did and after highschool, if you didn’t “make it” by having the skill and talent to progress beyond, it was “too late”. I enjoyed color guard for three of my six years in marching band, but that was as close as I came to it. I still sighed somewhat wistfully whenever I got a chance to watch professional dancers especially ballet or Irish Step dance, but I accepted they were things that I wouldn’t be doing. 

However, that was not to be the final chapter on my foray into dance. Because, in the fall of my freshman year at college, I discovered there was in fact a dance ministry on campus. The ministry was student run by young women who had been doing dance since they were young and were willing to pass on their knowledge and skills to anyone who wanted to join up. They did group us by skill level so the more advanced dancers could still be challenged and grow, but they were incredibly welcoming to those of us who had never danced before. 

We were given the option to try out different dances and then commit for the semester (or full year). I ended up picking Irish Step Dancing and flags. We paid a small membership due of about $10 each semester. So for $20 bucks, I was able to have a year’s worth of dance classes. Not only that, but also they had a huge collection of costumes meaning that I had very little to buy for the concerts. They directed us to a discount retailer for things like our shoes and I was able to snag my Irish Step Dancing shoes for $10. I believe the total cost for the year was about $50 between the dues, the shoes and one or two items for the costumes.

I will say my first day of class, I felt a bit like a five year old again. I was so excited to finally learn at least something of a dance I’ve loved so much for so long. My teacher was absolutely amazing and the sweetest person. She was a junior year nursing student who brought her calm, compassionate bedside manner into the classroom. She never scolded or lectured us when we messed up, but instead offered gentle correction and critique. We never sought perfection, only to do better each time. 

There are references to Irish step dancing as far back as the 16th century. In a letter to Queen Elizabeth, Sir Henry Sydney references his love for Irish jigs. At first, the music was primarily bagpipes with the hornpipe entering in the 1760’s giving the music its distinctive rhythms. There is some arguments as to when the fiddle was introduced with some people placing it in the 1700’s, but there are references in writing to fiddles in the mid to late 1600’s. 

The modern day form is recognizable for its rigid torso and dancing primarily on the balls of ones feet – like in Riverdance. However, that wasn’t always the case and it is as the name suggests a more modern form of the dance. There are also two distinctive types known as hard shoe and soft shoe. Hard shoe is basically like the tap dance of Irish Step. The hard shoe clacks on the floor making a noise and so the dancer becomes a moving percussion instrument. I danced soft shoe as hard shoe was for the more advanced students. I, sadly, did not get to dance hard shoe. Long story short, I needed to have two years of experience to be able to go into the more advanced class, I went abroad my junior year to study German and in my senior year, there was no one to teach Irish Step as the dances offered depended on having dancers with enough experience to teach it. 

What I found interesting about learning Irish step was that I expected the steps to have fancy Irish sounding names like how ballet has french words for their many movements. We did not have those at all, we had a seemingly limited vocabulary mostly consisting of lifts, beats, cuts, steps, and overs. She would tell us “now we’re going to do the step, step, back” or “Lift, step, step” to help us figure out what set of movements we were about to do. We’d put them together to the beat do them with one foot, then reverse it and do it on the other foot. The pieces of the whole movement would last a few bars of the music. We’d take turns circling our partners and join up as a larger circle going in and out. I cannot say that we were ready to take on the world stage by any stretch of the imagination. Our lifts were certainly not as high as they could be, legs lower, foot movements were decidedly sloppy at times, but we had fun learning. 

Each week I looked forward to going to it even if I was left exhausted by the end of class. Although, it did make going to flags right afterward difficult. My legs would feel like jelly by the time we were finished and instead of being able to go back to my nearby dorm room, I had to trek across campus, often in the cold darkness to the racquetball courts where we held flag practice. By the time I finished flags both my legs and my arms were exhausted. In between class, I practiced my steps in my dorm room and tried to increase my flexibility. I like to think it paid off in our performances.

Every year, we put on two concerts. One was the Christmas concert in the small chapel on campus. That one was free for anyone to attend. The other was the larger one in the gymnasium which was put on each spring, to the delight of the entire school. The second one had a small fee to attend to help us raise money to continue to buy costumes. The college let us have access to the sound system and set up a stage for us. During the concerts, each class picked a bible verse to share which went along with the song that we picked. 

My favorite song and verse combination came from my freshman year. Our song was the Salt Lick by Gaelic Storm and our verse was Mathew 5:30 “You are the salt of the earth. But if the salt loses its saltiness, how can it be made salty again? It is no longer good for anything, except to be thrown out and trampled underfoot.” It was a verse to remind us to be as salt, preserving, enhancing and flavoring the world with God’s love and light. 

I was incredibly blessed to have the opportunity to dance in college and to live out a childhood dream of learning a skill I thought was closed off to me. I think many of us wish we had certain opportunities to learn things when we were younger, but we think that there won’t be people to teach us. Perhaps, like me, you may think that unless you’re super talented there isn’t aren’t opportunities for you as an adult to learn. It may seem that the time to try and get into an interest has passed, but there are actually opportunities all around you if you keep your eyes and ears open. I can say that there are places which offer adult dance lessons even if they are harder to find. I also see that there are places for adult beginners to learn martial arts, sports, music, art and more. 

One of the people I do a podcast with, started his martial arts journey in his late 40’s. While he may not be as flexible or learn as quickly as some of the younger guys, he is doing it and loving it. He wasn’t afraid to be embarrassed by his lack of skill and embraced learning something new. Nor is the goal or focus to be a world champion or professional, it’s something that can be done just for fun. 

So often the activities we do in childhood semi-translate to work at this thing really hard so you can get a scholarship or go be a professional. The messages we receive as children is that these activities are not for themselves, they’re for doing something with them. They have to be tied to these larger goals. There’s also this obsession with accomplishing things as a young person and this false narrative that if you don’t master it by the time you’re 20, you’re never going to, so don’t even bother. So as adult learners we have to say to the first, actually, I can do this just for fun. To the second, we can say my life has not already been completely written and I can still accomplish a lot, so if I want to master this thing, I still can. It really depends on your own individual goals for whatever it is you want to do. 

So how can you step up as it were?

As I said earlier, it’s a matter of keeping your eyes and ears open. In my area, there are several places which offer adult classes for dance. One place is another dance ministry which helps keep the cost down. It is even offering a martial arts class which I am hopeful to join next year! Occasionally, you can find places offering introductory workshops for dance which gives you a taste of what a class would be like. It’s really a matter of actively seeking out those opportunities. 

Now, I have seen some online dance apps and courses. I’m not sure how effective they are because you may not have the feedback that you’d get from a live person to help correct your form and to explain a move more fully if you don’t understand the first explanation. Also you won’t be in an actual dance studio. I personally found the mirrors in the dance studio to be really helpful because I could visually see exactly what my body looked like. So I knew that my leg wasn’t perfectly straight or the lift was sloppy. I could see if my arms weren’t held up evenly with one side dropping down. I think they’d be really good for absolute beginners and for people who just want to try it for fun. There is of course no substitution for personalized instruction that live classes bring, but I do think the apps provide access to tools and information that are difficult to otherwise obtain.

Completed: Fall 2006 through Fall 2008

Cost: $100 for 3 semesters

Miles from home: 0 from college dorm / 39 from home

An Evening with Joshua Bell

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Perhaps for many people spending an evening listening to a violin virtuoso may not top the list of things to do. However, for those in the classical music world, he is our Taylor Swift or Beyonce or insert your favorite singer/band here. He is a household name, even those who do care for the music he plays, they are still familiar with him. Joshua has been wowing audiences around the world since he was 17 years old. 

As his debut on the world stage coincided with the earliest parts of my childhood, I grew up listening to him on cassette tape and CD. I would be able to pick out his playing the moment I walked into the room being able to determine his playing from other violinists. I started playing the violin in 3rd grade and only became further in love with his command of the instrument as my knowledge grew. Needless to say, that hearing him play on a famous stradivarius violin, has been a long time dream. 

Considering that Joshua is a world-renowned musician having played to sold out concerts in the best concert halls throughout his 40 years of playing, with ticket prices only skyrocketing in recent years, it never even crossed my mind to hope that I could see him in person. Imagine my shock and surprise to see that he would grace the small stage of the Millerville’s Ware Center in Lancaster. Now the tickets were a bit more expensive that are typical of Millersville’s performances, but they were still reasonably priced for a performance of this caliber. In considering the cost of travel to venues further afield, I determined that this was simply the cost of seeing the Paganini of our time. 

I invited my mother and my sister to attend with me. My sister declined as she is not as enamored with the violin as I am, but my mother was more than happy to join me as she shared my love of Joshua Bell. We planned to go out to dinner a little early so that we would have plenty of time to find parking and get to the venue. We both dressed to impress as suitable for the occasion. We enjoyed a glass of wine with our swordfish which was complemented by the butternut squash risotto. Parking was secured in a garage which was just around the corner from the Ware Center. 

I was a little surprised to see that there was an entire reception in the front of the Ware Center with complimentary wine and a small buffet of food. A grand piano was playing softly and everyone was mingling with an air of barely contained excitement. I took the opportunity to mingle with the crowd, stopping to chat with people using small opportunities to open up conversation. A few people stopped me to compliment both my own outfit and my mother’s. After a short wait which felt like an eternity with anticipation, the doors were finally opened and we were able to make our way in. 

I hadn’t paid much attention to the seat numbers as we hadn’t been able to select our seats at the time of purchasing. The tickets had simply arrived in my email and I printed them out ahead of time not wanting to take any chances of last minute technical difficulties. Which meant that once again, I was surprised by my sheer luck. As I slowly descended further down the steps closer and closer to the stage it slowly dawned on me that I was to be in the second row from the stage on the far right (stage left) where Joshua would enter and exit. I was dangerously close to the legend himself. 

From the first note, I knew I was hearing something particularly special;it was clear no recording had ever quite done either the player or the instrument justice. The sound washed over me commanding my attention and I swear I could see the sound as colors dancing across my mind. The notes were like electricity through me filling every limb with it. Words do not quite capture the physical and emotional transcendent experience that happened as I was held hostage by the majesty of the music.  

As I watched and listened, I wanted to take everything in at once, every note, every movement of his bow arm and fingers over the strings. I could see every expression in his face and the way he moved with the music as he played. I could hear him take a breath at the beginning of the musical phrases, breathing in sync with the music. When I had recovered from my initial shock, I did manage to start to study what he was doing to produce such phenomenal sounds. Truly, the violin on which he is playing is a singular instrument, but let us not fool ourselves into thinking that should I ever be handed a Stradivarius such as the Gibson ex Huberman (provided I didn’t faint first), I would not be able to produce the same caliber of music. Whereas many people might focus on how expertly his fingers moved up and down the fingerboard keeping them perfectly disciplined, I was enthralled by the control he exhibited over the bow and how he could subtly move his wrist to change the entire tone. I found myself enraptured in an entirely new way as there is nothing quite like watching a master at work. 

After what seemed an age and all too quickly, time which had been suspended resumed and the concert came to its seeming end. However, there was a small surprise at the end of the published repertoire, he had two more songs for us, Nocturne Chopin No. 9 and The Gypsy Airs. The first Josh dedicated to a dear friend who had only died that morning, though his voice almost broke as Josh begged the audience’s indulgence to dedicate the piece to him, the voice of his instrument remained clear. Only a heart of stone would have remained unmoved by the communication of grief in the notes. The second song, was a balm to soothe the hearts of those listening, with its oft times cheeky and bright tones. 

I never wanted it to end, but once again, we came to a halt, with his bow held in the air the audience held its breath and then with all the confidence of a conductor at the start of a symphony his hand dropped and a chorus of clapping began. We rose to our collective feet giving a standing ovation of a performance truly worthy of it. He graciously accepted our accolades and made a quick exit stage left. The magic of the evening would not soon wear off as the music continues to echo in my mind and I will long to hear it again, knowing that I will have to make due with mere recordings. I understand now why women would faint to hear Paganini play. 

How can you hear a world renowned musician?

As I often remind you dear reader, one will be shocked and surprised at the offerings from your local colleges and universities. Not all world class performances take place in the vaunted halls of opera houses and symphony halls, some take place on much smaller, more intimate stages. I always check in early August for the listings of performances that I can expect over the next 8 to 9 months. I also check my local theaters and community stages. Often these places have shows that are much more affordable to see than in the larger and more famous venues. Yes, seeing a world renown artist performing on a world famous stage can be exciting, it’s also very expensive and many of the newer smaller stages have great acoustics with modern building techniques. By not overlooking my smaller, local venus, I managed to check seeing Joshua Bell playing his famous Stradivarius off my list.  

Completed: Oct. 2024

Cost: $250 

Miles from home: 20 

A Wickedly Good Time: A Broadway Musical in New York

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Considering the movie version is at its height of being popular, It seems that now is the perfect time to write about my very first Broadway Musical experience, Wicked (from my Reverse Bucket List).

I must confess my confusion that after 20 plus years of being on the stage, the musical is still so beloved that it should have such a large fanbase that has flocked to the theaters to see it and sing along. It certainly is a good musical, catchy music, compelling characters, interesting plot, and full of deeper themes that will stand the test of time. However, I just hadn’t heard much about it since it first debuted back in 2003 which followed on the heels of the 1995 book. Seeing all the excitement surrounding the movie version of it has made me reminisce about my Broadway experience.  

I was in my senior year of high school when the music department was able to schedule a trip up to New York city in order to see Wicked the musical. As our high school was about a 3 hour drive from New York, it wasn’t too far for us to do occasional class trips. As it happened, this trip was scheduled for the day after another trip to New York to see the Darwin Exhibit – so I happened to go twice in one week (but a post for another time). I had recently read the book from my library, curiosity finally winning out to discover what precisely had everyone in such a frenzy of excitement. As my school had done the Wizard of Oz musical in my freshman year, i was extremely curious to not only read the story from an alternative point of view but see the story from an alternative point of view. 

Our field trip actually began in the later part of the school day as the performance would not be until the twilight hours. We piled onto the charter bus as a group of exuberant, nerdy teens ready to take on the world. For most of us, this would be the first time seeing a Broadway musical and for some it was their first time going to New York. The air was palpable with excitement which soon wore off after the initial jostling for seats and everyone settled into their places for the long trip up. There was the usual chatter, the occasional flirtatious glance between people, whispered gossip and playful teasing for which groups of teens are known for. 

I was no different sitting with my friends and giggling most of the way uncertain of exactly what I was in for. I had of course heard of the infamous broadway and grew up watching various performances of musicals recorded on video. I didn’t know precisely what made Broadway so special other than that was where musicals were born. Even though I had just seen the famous city, I had not yet visited when the daylight fades and gives way to the bright lights of the streets. Would it really transform itself as I had been lead to believe? 

As the bus rolled along, we began to start seeing signs for New York and signs for Wicked. The excitement on the bus began to build once again. The energy was barely contained within the seats. For myself, I remember half bouncing up and down in glee. Shortly – though not nearly quick enough – we had arrived in the big city. We were given leave to divide ourselves up into groups and we were taken to have pizza. 

I remember walking through the streets taking in all the sites. The daylight had just started to fade, turning the sunlight to rose. There seemed to be too much to take in at once. Buildings towering over us. Music blared over the cacophony of sounds, traffic, horns, and construction. We spotted a street performer. Cars were everywhere, some of them quite unique like the limo humvee which alternatively amused and baffled us as quintessentially New York. Looking up we saw the famous billboards and lights, soon they would light the night and block out the stars and moon. 

We were ushered into an upscale restaurant which was known for its pizza, though to this day I cannot quite recall its name. But I recall the atmosphere quite well. Like most upscale restaurants, the lighting was dim which only accentuated the richness of the dark wooden panels on the lower part of the walls. The upper half seemed to be a lighter cream though the shadows obscured the truth. I distinctly recall that we ate on the upper level looking down over the rest of the patrons. Perhaps, knowing that they would play host to rambunctious adolescents they wisely seated us away from their other customers lest we became a disturbance. If we were, I did not hear of it, though I cannot quite imagine that we were not at least slightly disruptive. However, most of us had been raised with at least decent enough manners, the problem of course is that when in the company of other teens, those manners seem to get forgotten. 

I will fully admit that while yes, I had the infamous New York pizza, it didn’t really taste all that much better than the pizza I order from down the block monthly. Granted, the pizzeria is owned by a 2nd generation Italian immigrant whose grandparents owned a restaurant in Italy, so I may be a bit spoiled when it comes to Italian food. 

What I remember most about the evening after arriving at the theater was that it was both exactly what I expected and not what I expected at all. First, dear reader, you must recall that a Broadway musical or really any theatrical performance “on Broadway” could take place on any one of 41 stages in New York City which can seat 500 or more persons. There are in point of fact only three theaters located on Broadway itself: Broadway Theater, Palace Theatre and Winter Garden Theatre. So even though one might picture Broadway and one of these three theaters, one might find oneself in a theater several blocks away.

Prior to going to a Broadway production, my theater experiences consisted of the Fulton in Lancaster and the Hershey Theater, neither of which are architectural sisters to those in New York. So while I had a vague notion of what a theater looked like from pictures and movies, it was still in juxtaposition to the Hershey which was designed after a cathedral in Venice and the Fulton which was designed as a Victorian Opera house. What struck me most was the sheer amount of red velvet that they had at the entrance. It seemed quite a bit odd while still ornate. I remember thinking that the entrance was a bit smaller than I had imagined as we were ushered into what seemed to be too small a space before opening up into a larger area. 

To be honest, the venue vaguely reminded me of a posh movie theater. It had a more modern flair and everything was a rich dark red and black accented with golds. Sound was softened by the lush carpet so that the conversation of the crowd swarming inside was a hushed murmur around me. Everywhere I looked people were smiling with an eagerness of anticipation. Once inside the theater, the air positively hummed with the activity of people quickly seeking out their spots. I was situated stage left towards the middle of theater close enough to see well enough but not to really see the more subtle expressions of the actors. 

It hardly mattered, from the moment the curtain rose and the first notes rang out, I was transfixed. Glinda floated down in a sparkling blue dress singing that no one would mourn the Wicked Witch. I remember watching the Wizard dance around the stage with Elphaba’s mother singing and giggling with one another, a slight deviation from the book already. By the second song of Dear Ol’ Shiz, I was taken up into the story which asks what makes someone wicked? The very same question that first led me to explore psychology and later a career in social work. 

It’s hard to exactly describe the sheer spectacle of a broadway production from the sets to the costumes; everything is meticulously crafted to convey subtle messages and create impressions which help tell the story. Scattered throughout were small references to the original Wizard of Oz while still firmly establishing the differences from the source material. It began to take an almost dreamlike quality where your mind begins to fill in the holes that the set leaves open, a few trees become a forest, a few mock houses spring into a whole town until your mind is sort of tricked into thinking there was more than there really was.

It could be that it’s the songs that help weave the enchantment for there is ever magic in song. It makes it easy to slip out of solid reality and into the dream realm. After all, it’s really only in dreams that people would be singing and dancing to tell a story. Perhaps, the music really does help place your mind in an altered state allowing you to more fully experience it. The choreography only adds to dream as people twirl about the stage becoming whirls of color. During the songs with larger ensembles it becomes too much to take all in, your eyes unable to drink in each movement and the lyrics blend together in your ears. 

However, just like the spells woven in the musical, so too, does the spell the cast holds over the audience eventually shatter. The last song sung, the last line spoken and as if on cue the audience breaks into applause the thundering of hundreds of hands slapping together creating a wave of discordant sound which rouses them out of their half dazed slumber. Half stumbling out into the night and slightly stiff from sitting too long, the crowd begins to dissipate. Each person with a sort of half glazed look in their eyes as if they aren’t quite free from the enchantment of the stage. Patrons speak excitedly to one another, a few hum, fewer still hum on key. A number of them will most likely find themselves in bars later drunk on more than just showtunes. For a group of rowdy teens, the only thing left to do was to be herded back onto the coach bus. 

Considering the lateness of the night, we returned in relative quiet, the lights were turned low to allow us the opportunity to sleep. I was never one to really sleep during transportation, did not. Although the next day, I was exhausted for yet a third field trip with my German class, but that is a post for another time. I recall mostly stumbling into my bed in the wee hours of the morning resigned to the idea that in only a few short hours I would have to return to the waking world. Still, as I lay in my bed the songs played over in my mind and my dreams were swirls of color. 

Years later, I went to another Broadway Musical, this time Kiss Me Kate, a retelling of Shakespear’s Taming of the Shrew. The magic that was cast was as real as the first time. Time once again was suspended and I was overtaken by the spell of the theater. 

How can you see a Broadway Musical?

If you are lucky enough to be relatively close to New York City, then it is quite easy for one to get there. You can either be like my music department and secure transportation for the same day knowing that you may end up crawling back into your bed in the wee hours of the morning utterly spent and exhausted or you can arrange to stay overnight like I did when I went with my sister with a hotel close by. The latter option is of course far more expensive.

However, my sister and I had tacked on an evening in New York as part of a larger trip as we were departing from New York. We had determined that rather than trying to get to New York the same day as departure we opted to go the day before to ensure that we did not miss our cruise ship. This is certainly an option I encourage you to consider when traveling, dear reader. If you find that you need to arrive to or depart from a city you otherwise would not travel to, consider if it’s possible to extend your trip by a day in order to enjoy the sights. My sister did this in Barcelona as well and I hope to do so in London. If one is going to be there anyways then it is far cheaper in the long run to spend a little extra on a day rather than spending even more later on a separate trip. 

Still, not everyone will be traveling in and out of New York nor is everyone able to travel to it on a lark for a day trip. Then the principle of the thing is what one must turn to. Now a Broadway production is a grand thing, but it is not the only way to enjoy a Broadway Musical which is a genre rather than the thing itself. There are many beautiful and glorious venues which put on performances of musicals. Take the earlier mentioned Hershey Theater which is a masterpiece of architecture. The quality of performances that have graced its stage are certainly equal to New York’s Broadway or London’s West End. Some performances may even surpass what one may see on Broadway depending on the quality of the actors, costumes and set pieces.

There is after all nothing inherently magical about a particular venue, Broadway just happens to be the place where most musical productions are developed and debuted. It is the place to go if you want to see the newest musicals; it is not the only place with capable of phenomenal performances. This is great news, as you, dear reader, are almost certainly within a reasonable distance of a grand theater which hosts performances. I encourage you to go forth to your nearest performance hall and find yourself lost in the magic of musical theater!

Completed: Spring 2006

Cost: Current cost $100 – 200 per ticket 

Miles from home: 150

Be sure to check out my other Bucket List items whether my current list or my reverse list.

Dance Like No One’s Watching: Dancing to Street Musicians

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Maybe it was the music itself that enticed me. Perhaps, it was the wine at dinner. Or maybe it was the allure of Italy itself that wound itself around my legs and compelled me to dance. All I knew was the night was still young as the sky was turning to twilight and the saxophone drew me towards it. What else could I do, but begin to sway and dance to its siren call? As I twirled and danced upon cobblestones, I caught glimpses of the musicians smiling as they played, keeping the song going as I was caught up in its magic spell. My skirt swished gently about my legs, my arms flowed of their own accord. I can still almost hum the low, almost slow almost sensual tune, though in truth it plays along the boundaries of memory, faded with time and unfamiliarity. 

To be young and uninhibited again, unbound by the constraints of societal expectations and propriety. To simply find yourself in a place where the music is playing and the urge to dance takes hold. It is not very often one stumbles upon street musicians unless one is in a city, such as Rome, but one must take advantage of such moments. It is one of my favorite memories from my semester abroad because I danced as if I were alone, unconcerned about the crowd or who might be watching. I let myself live freely in the moment, embracing the serendipity of music at twilight. 

As it so happens, not only did I delight those playing by my ample appreciation of the music, but also of a nearby photographer. He happened to catch me dancing and was inspired by my boldness. For a short time afterward, I was his muse with a short and impromptu photoshoot in the plaza before the Great Colosseum itself! I unfortunately only have the pictures which were sent on to me and lost the gentleman’s name. But I will forever be grateful for the phenomenal memories he helped preserve. Perhaps, this blog post will find him and I will be able to give him proper credit.

It was not my first foray into impromptu dancing, for I also danced at the spring festival in Marburg in the rain, again much to the delight of the musicians. I may have said only moments ago, “to be young and uninhibited again”, but the truth is, I still am! Uninhibited that is – I’m almost 40, one has to embrace middle age gracefully and not cling to youth in some sort of grotesque fashion. One should not stop dancing to street performers just because one is no longer in one’s 20’s! One should not stop embracing moments of joyful abandon. Is there a song to sing at karaoke? Belt it out! Did you stumble across a public art project inviting you to paint? Join in! Be spontaneous! Embrace your impulses and passions! Be silly! Don’t be afraid to look foolish! Had I not been fearless to dance in the middle of public, it would not have led to a photoshoot in the middle of Rome! How many people can say that of their journeys? Not many? Exactly! Fortune favors the bold after all! 

Now dear reader, you may be wondering why this would grace a bucket list as it seems like rather a small thing. Really, dancing on the street of all things to a “lowly” street performer? What sort of standards do you have for your bucket list, you may ask. 

First, it’s my blog and I’ll blog what I want to. My list, my rules. You go make your own list with your own rules. 

Second, consider how few people would actually be bold or brave enough to do this? How many of them hold back? Does it even occur to them to dance? Or have they been so conditioned against any sort of unauthorized or predesignated fun that they don’t even think to dance? Have you, dear reader, ever acted with such impulsive abandon? For me this was about living without fear or anyone’s judgements. A life well lived includes doing things off the beaten path, allowing your passions and impulses to occasionally run riot. I love music and I love dancing, why should I deny the urge to embrace life when it so fervently invites me to its arms? 

Besides, when you do embrace life not only do you bring delight to yourself, but also you bring joy to other people. In my hometown, there is a young man who frequently goes out dressed as a templar knight. His reasons are his own, but he started to become a bit of a celebrity. People are posting sightings of him. They’re excited to see him. It brings us joy. I love that there’s someone out there just living his best life as a templar knight! There’s another town in Canada where a man walks around with a giant carrot and people LOVE it. There’s stories of people passing out flower crowns or leaving chalk art on the sidewalk of their neighbors to bring them joy. The world needs our whimsy dear reader! 

Sidenote: Before doing chalk art, check your local ordinances as in some towns this may be illegal – some places really have outlawed fun! 

All of these are stories of people doing something a little impulsive and making the world a better, more magical place because of it. The third reason is that it made my trip to Rome that much more memorable. Consider how many travel stories seem to consist of the same things, especially such destinations as Rome. Don’t get me wrong there is a reason people go to the same places and see the same things, it would be silly to go to Rome as a tourist and eschew the Colosseum as plebeian because everyone goes to Rome to see it. But this punctuated my week-long trip with a truly memorable experience, it made the Colosseum special to me. When I think about the Colosseum, I think about dancing! I strain to recall that haunting tune. For a moment, I am back there. If we don’t authentically express ourselves out in the world, what are we even doing? Are we really deeply experiencing life or just pretending to?  

How can you dance like no one’s watching?

If you are interested in replicating the magic of impromptu dancing, the best way is to use your ears. Pay attention to your surroundings. Obviously if you visit a city, you are much more likely to encounter the stray musician. Be sure to pack along a few dollars to show your appreciation if you are intending on seeking out someone to dance to. However, I will admonish you to not seek this out specifically. After all, half the fun is stumbling about it naturally to let the music extend its hand with a flirtatious invitation to join it. Then by all means accept the invitation, let it embrace you in its arms and let go. 

The principle of course is to be open to serendipity and to take advantage of the opportunities that arise. When a creative opportunity presents itself, meet it head on, boldly and passionately. Dive in with careless abandon. After all, a life well lived is one with passion and risk. Not every boldly taken action will end well. You may be booed off stage of the open mic comedy club. You may be told afterward you sang worse than a braying donkey. But that’s okay! In the words of Theodore Roosevelt, “It is not the critic who counts….The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena.” Do not content yourself with sitting on the sidelines dear reader! Enter the arena of life and dance as if no one was watching! 

Completed: Spring 2009 

Miles from home: 4,371 (though this can be completed almost anywhere) 

Cost: Serendipity is free

Learn an Instrument: Rediscovering a Passion

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One of the definitive moments in my life is sitting on the couch staring at my mother’s boombox in absolute rapture as Pacabel’s Canon in D played. I was in love. It was without a doubt one of the most beautiful things I had ever heard, the violin. It was not simply an instrument, oh no, this was the very voice of my being. If I lose my ability to speak, let me only speak in notes and songs. If someone gave me a choice between becoming deaf or blind, I would pick blindness every time, do not deny me music, it is the very sustenance of my soul. 

I unfortunately would have to wait several years before being offered the opportunity to play, but in 3rd grade our school offered us music lessons. I was absolutely elated to be able to pick the violin. I would have no other instruments. But oh, how I struggled to master it. The violin is a very easy instrument in principle. After all, how hard can it be? You have four strings, you press down your fingers to shorten said strings in order to achieve the different notes and to produce the sound you move a bow across. Other instruments require learning combinations of key presses to produce the sounds and controlling your breath to go up and down octaves. Surely those are much harder to master. 

It is in fact considered one of the most difficult instruments to learn. In part because it is such an easy thing in principle it lends itself to having a wide variety of producible sounds and variations of intonation. Additionally, it has no guides; each note (with exception of the open strings) must be produced flawlessly with little more than muscle memory and your ear to guide you as you slide your hand up and down the neck of the violin.  The spacing between your fingers varies depending on the “position” you’re in, the higher the position the closer you must space your fingers to produce the correct notes in tune. You are constantly adjusting with little more than a prayer. 

There are no words to describe the thrill of playing with mastery, effortlessly hitting the notes, cheekily moving your bow in just the right way to go from quiet to loud, hitting the bow catch to enhance the power behind the stroke, connecting the notes together in a slur or punctuating them with a staccato. The violin may be one of the most challenging, but it is also one of the most rewarding because it allows you to have so much expression and creativity with the interpretation of a piece of music. 

This isn’t to knock other instruments or to write a post about the superiority of one instrument over the other. For me, the violin is the best instrument it speaks to me in a way no other instrument or creative expression can. Which is really what this bucket list item is for me. It’s about utilizing the violin to express myself in an entirely new way. Playing is a simple joy. 

My collection of intermediate pieces that I have chosen to master over the next year or so

Sadly this was not always the case. I loved the violin and my parents knew this, so they encouraged me to pursue a potential music career. For reasons, I will not fully explain; I ended up with PTSD and unfortunately a secondary anxiety disorder. This greatly negatively impacted my ability to play. From a psychological perspective, my voice was silenced. I tried to hold on to it but the more I fought to keep my voice the worse it got and the worse my playing got. After high school, having failed my auditions for acceptance into a music program, I put the violin away. I kept telling myself that it was only temporary and I would practice again soon. It wasn’t until nearly 17 years later that I picked it back up again. 

I can’t say exactly what makes it different this time, only that I am playing 100% for myself. It isn’t to perform or to achieve anything. It was remembering why I loved playing in the first place, to reclaim that joy rather than focusing on achievement. Not having that pressure to compete has made going back to music like falling in love all over again. I think sometimes when we start to push ourselves into making our passions a profession or career or business it robs us of that joy. I probably wouldn’t have lost my music for 17 years if my violin playing had only been for joy as it is now. Granted the PTSD and secondary anxiety didn’t help but I wouldn’t have felt anxious about my playing if the playing had only been for its own sake and not my entire future. 

I cannot describe in words what it feels like to play now. Only that it feels like coming home. I approach it with a child’s enthusiasm and uncritical spirit. Mistakes are not a death sentence but a whimsical learning opportunity. I don’t mind people listening to my practice sessions, let them listen! I am in my own world once my boy hits the strings and I am in love with the violin once again. I almost never go a day without playing. It sustains me as much as food or water. A life without music was a life without color.  

Revisiting a piece I had mastered in middle school.

 I could have checked off “learn and instrument” from my reverse bucket list and continued to allow my violin to languish in the closet, but I didn’t because this wasn’t about learning to play an instrument, it was about rediscovering something that was lost and reclaiming it as my own. I wonder dear reader what creative outlets have you lost over the years? What passions have lain fallow under the guise of failure and self-doubt? What have you stopped doing because you weren’t “good enough”? What might happen if you picked it back up again? Would you rediscover a childlike wonder? Would you find yourself itching to get back to it after work? Would you find yourself refreshed in a way you haven’t been in a long time, like a desert after a rainstorm? Remember this isn’t to “turn your passion into a career”, so often that mindset was the very thing that turned you off your passion to begin with. Dear reader, you need not justify all that you do, sometimes you just love something; it brings you joy and that is the only justification that you need to pursue it 

How can you rekindle your lost passions?

If you’re like me, you may find your instrument hidden away in a closet somewhere only in need of a little TLC to get started once again. Perhaps, it requires a trip to the art store. Maybe you need to reach out to an intramural sports team.  Whatever it is, chances are you already know how to get back into it,  you just need to take the steps to do it. Even something like dance can be done by just clearing a little space in a room. After several months of play, I invested in new strings. After several more months, I am in search of a violin teacher to help coach me further.