Angels Without Cell Phones

This past weekend we were asked to join friends for dinner and the symphony. When we lived in Pittsburgh we had a block of season tickets to see the symphony a handful of times a year. I rarely knew what I was listening to, who the composer was, what the music meant, but I loved it still. Dressing up, the ride to downtown in the light rail, dinner somewhere we'd never been, and then sitting in the nosebleed, looking down as the musicians worked their magic. Nice memories but it's been ten or more years.

We started this evening with dressing up, something we (and everyone else) rarely does anymore, not even necessarily to weddings and funerals. I even wore perfume and shoes designed to handle a single digit number of blocks of walking.

We parked the car, then walked to the Italian restaurant, on sidewalks full of people out enjoying the evening, fountains whose streams shot up in the air, with accompanying music, girls in frilly gowns, dates on arm, posing for prom photos, and horse drawn carriages in the streets.

The restaurant was filled with the smell of garlic and simmering goodness, and a low undertone of conversation. Tables covered in white cloths, and napkins draped over our laps. Glasses of wine that cost enough one would suffice, and maybe there's something there - drink wine that is such a wonderful experience you'd never cheapen it with ordering a second. Looking over a menu with names not easy to pronounce. An appetizer placed in the center of the table and all sets of hands in immediately, trying to keep the big pieces of freshly shaved cheese from falling off before they made it to our mouths.

Then the symphony. The building alone is amazing. Who puts 48' angels on the outside of a building these days? Suggested by Van Cliburn, and built in 1998 by the Bass family to resemble a European opera hall, it's beyond gorgeous, and especially so at night.

We went inside and found our seats, center and about fifteen rows from the stage. They'd run out of programs, which brought a freedom. I didn't have to follow along, just sit and listen. What followed was two or so hours of music that took one's breath away. Watching a multitude of bows dance above the violins, and the back of the conductor as he danced and swayed. The guitarist had no music in front of him as he played for over 20 minutes with his eyes closed, just listening, fingers flying over the strings.

Our hosts told us the first and second chair violins were Stradivarius, worth anywhere from hundreds of thousands to one million dollars, on loan from someone's private collection to the orchestra. The first chair violinist played a solo here and there, and to sit and listen to an instrument that is centuries old, with no doubt an amazing history, made time stand still. How incredible is it that they survived all that has happened in our world during that time?

During the intermission we toured the building, then came back to hear the final piece. A full orchestra with more violins than I could count, it had something to do with the Russian revolution and the composer's dislike of Stalin. Lasting over 45 minutes, and ending in cymbals crashing over and over and the composer having to wipe his brow with his handkerchief between the movements. Standing ovation by the audience, bows and more bows from the sections of the orchestra, the first and second chair of this instrument and that, and finally the composer.

The entire evening was such a beautiful treat, but what was the most amazing thing about it all - I never saw a single cell phone. Not at dinner, not a single photo taken. Just people sitting and eating and sipping and talking. To each other. Then during the symphony not a single person talked, or took a photo or checked their phone. All heads were trained forward, and those who were unfortunate enough to get a tickle in their throat tried to wait until the music swelled.

If we can still spend an evening as evenings have been spent for centuries, if we can still dress up to honor the efforts of those who feed us and entertain us, if we can engage in conversation with those we are surrounded by, rather than online with those we may not have ever met, if we can actually silence and put away our phones and sit forward and really listen rather than snap photos, then maybe there's hope for our world? I choose to think so.