it concludes with a concert

Saturday I was out for a long round trip that took me to errands in four different places around the Bay Area.

1. Stopping for an early lunch at the Irish pub in Millbrae where our Mythopoeic book discussion group rented their back room last December for our annual festive reading meeting, and to arrange to rent the room again for this year.

2. Up into the City for another visit to the public library for more research on the Tolkien Studies bibliography.

3. Across the Bay to Berkeley for an afternoon invitational gathering in honor of the hostess's Big Round Number birthday. As I entered the room, I saw, seated on the couch beneath the window (so that the light was behind her and I couldn't see her very well), the hostess's daughter, the one who lives at home and had organized the party. She raised her hand in greeting and I acknowledged back. Then Mom, who was seated on the opposite side of the room, said that same daughter could fetch me a drink. I looked into the interior room, and there she was! Puzzled, I looked back to the window, and realized that the one who'd greeted me was the other daughter, the one who lives 2000 miles away and is consequently not often seen. She looks only a bit like her sister, but as I said the light was bad. Her husband and son were there too: it was a festive gathering.

4. And lastly, over the hills to Walnut Creek for my first achieved concert of the season, the California Symphony in the bicentennial bash of Beethoven's Ninth. What a magnificent performance. The orchestra, under music director Donato Cabrera, burst with fervor and intensity. Where did the brass learn to play with such stentorian energy? All three fast movements had craggy vigor, while the slow movement had an unexpected majesty. The chorus, from the SF Conservatory, wobbled in some dicey spots, but had the vocal power necessary. The lead soloist, Sidney Outlaw, sang in a light-toned and lyrical baritone, almost as if he were a tenor, but he too had the carrying power. Of the other soloists, soprano Laquita Mitchell surprised with the intensity of her vocal production.

This was a glorious concert, and I learned something driving to it also. I learned that the electronic signs on the freeway giving the time to various destinations are not to be trusted. In Oakland, it said 15 minutes to Walnut Creek. 15 minutes later, I was still stuck in the traffic jam caused by drivers apparently too cautious to enter the Caldecott Tunnel at speed. This had obviously been going on for some time, but nobody told the signs about it. Next time I need to take this drive, I'll go around on San Pablo Dam Road instead.