The notes we need to hear by Sue Robin

It seemed preposterous that we were at a concert in the awe-inspiring Disney Concert Hall last night in the wake of another ICE murder. Russ’s 85^th birthday was last week, and my gift to him was to hear Aaron Copland’s “Appalachian Spring.” It was composed in 1943, another tumultuous time in our country’s history.

Copland said of this commission for Martha Graham, “It had to do with the pioneer American spirit, with youth and spring, with optimism and hope.” Yet here we sat, having just watched another human being beaten and shot to death. Not the first. Just the most recent. Difficult to find hope and optimism these days.

While the concertgoers took their seats, some of the orchestra was still wandering in, instruments in hand. As we sat down, they started warming up. It was a cacophony of notes and sounds. Mixed into the chaos was the heightened anticipation of knowing that soon the first violin would walk to center stage. Then the conductor would stride out to bring order and beauty. But for that moment, no one was on the same page. But, unlike our country today, the goal of all in that concert hall was to bring the sounds together harmoniously.

We desperately needed to hear those notes, both the cacophony and the concert to come. The first piece was “The Unanswered Question” by Charles Ives, written prior to WWII. An unusual piece, with one trumpet played off stage, four flutes standing behind the orchestra, and strings. It almost sounded like humming, as when a parent tries to soothe a newborn, punctuated by the trumpet and later the flutes. Meant to be Ives’s “endless melody,” it felt like a reminder of the background stillness we all search for to hold us together amid our personal and worldwide traumas.

Two more pieces were played before “Appalachian Spring” was gifted to us. The way Conductor John Adams chose the pieces and structured the program felt right, as though he was leading us toward hope and optimism.

This is not meant to be a concert review, but to show the confluence of the arts and real life, and the ability of the arts to bring healing energy. It is not necessarily curative, but it does provide a moment of respite from our world that is catapulting out of control.

Brief glimpses of hope are trying to poke through the morass, like tulips through the spring ice. The Republican who refuses to run again. The Minnesota State Congressman who is grief-stricken. The seven Republicans who want an investigation into the murder of Mr. Pretti. The frequent protests. My heart says that every human on the planet should be appalled and crying out for justice, but every journey begins with the first step.

Our country has turned sour, cruel, and vindictive under the leadership of this president and his minions. It is difficult to find hope in the throes of chaos, and often I feel as though we are being led into hell where ugliness prevails. Murder, mayhem, and madness seem to be the thrum of this administration. We desperately need a new conductor, one who welcomes new ideas and appreciates the past. Who can hold love and empathy in his or her heart. Whose goal is compassion and right action. Someone who wishes justice to prevail.