It strikes me that had you not come out on top at that audition, you could have certainly made it as a writer.
On Aug 10, 2011, at 11:48 AM, Robert Ward <[email protected]> wrote: > Hi all, > > Recently, I submitted this short piece of writing to The Sun magazine for > their monthly "Readers Write" pages. The topic was "Rites of Passage" and > although it was not chosen, I thought that some of you might find it > interesting to read. Hope you are all enjoying this summer. > > **** > > It’s January, 1980. I’m squinting into the bright lights, standing on the > bare stage of the Opera House in San Francisco, trying to make out the shapes > of the committee seated in the audience that will decide my fate. I’m > gripping my horn, getting ready to audition for a first-chair position in the > San Francisco Symphony’s horn section, and I have only two remaining rivals > from a field that started yesterday with 75 players from all over the United > States. An audition is the test that anyone who wants to play in a big-time > orchestra must pass, and how you play in those 15 minutes will determine > whether you become a member of an elite fraternity, or return to a patchwork > existence of uncertain freelance employment. I try and clear my mind, willing > myself to let go of what has come before and keeping myself from imagining > what my then 24-year-old self cannot know about what lies ahead: a 30-year > career, standing ovations in the capitals of Europe, a circle of close > friends and colleagues, a complete Mahler Symphony cycle as first horn. > > It happens quickly, yet time is somehow elongated too. The Music Director > stands in front of me, uncomfortably close, and conducts me alone in a > prominent solo. I have to think fast to navigate a tricky unexpected piece > that they ask to try and trip me up (rhythm - it’s all about feeling the > rhythm, I say to myself, channeling my inner metronome). My sound fills the > hall with the power of Siegfried’s Call, fearlessly waking the dragon. Then > suddenly there is no more music on the stand, I hear a smattering of > individual applause, and the three of us begin to wait together on couches in > the Green Room, awkwardly caught between camaraderie and competition. Only > now does my heart start to pound, wondering what the result will be, my mind > racing into the future. > > The wait seems interminable, but then - a knock. The job is mine. I get > handshakes and congratulations from the others, but their eyes tell me what > they are really thinking. I’m numb, hardly knowing what to think, but later, > back home in Denver standing under a streetlight at the airport with the > snowflakes gently falling as I wait for a ride, I realize that everything has > changed - the next chapter is beginning and I wonder whether I’m ready. > > **** > > > Robert N. Ward > Principal Horn > San Francisco Symphony > [email protected] > > > > > > _______________________________________________ > post: [email protected] > unsubscribe or set options at > https://pegasus.memphis.edu/cgi-bin/mailman/options/horn/bgross%40airmail.net _______________________________________________ post: [email protected] unsubscribe or set options at https://pegasus.memphis.edu/cgi-bin/mailman/options/horn/archive%40jab.org
