2024 Round Up

The last few months have been a lot. A LOT. That's probably true for most of us. And I have many things I want to write about, but I have a need to quickly document some events that finished out 2024 before I forget them all. Join me on this belated end of year round up!

Let's begin with fact that I made a goal this fall that every time I went into our (annoyingly cluttered) garage I had to remove something from it, or at least investigate one of the many mysteries that have accumulated there. I have given away ice fishing poles, consolidated camping supplies, recycled boxes, and uncovered things like this that I have no explanation for:

The garage is looking better, and my goal for it in the spring is to find a way to hang/display our various kites on the walls so they aren't in a jumble and they can be decorative when they are not being used.

Inktober this year was not possible. I really love how in the past few years Quinn and I would meet at the dining room table most evenings and work on the day's prompt. But Quinn is in her senior year with too much to do, and I spent what felt like every waking moment in my shop on a deadline. I decided at the end of the month to do all the prompts in one drawing since many of them seemed to work together anyway.

Quinn turned 18 this year. All my children are technically adults now. It's weird. Whatever ideas I had for their childhoods, the time limit is up. I hope I did okay as their mom for that phase of their lives. I hope I do okay as the mom of adults.

When I asked Quinn when she turned 17 if there was anything she hadn't done yet as a "child," the only things she could think of were getting Mold-A-Ramas from the Oklahoma City Zoo, and going to Taco Bell. I figure the Mold-A-Rama quest extends beyond childhood anyway, and I'm chalking up the lack of Taco Bell as a parenting win. But just to round out the list, we went to Taco Bell on the night before her 18th birthday (she said it tasted like school food), and in the morning before I left town for a convention, I made her a crepe cake for breakfast with cream cheese frosting between the layers and chocolate ganache on top. I usually make my kids crepes in the shape of the their birthday numbers for breakfast, and a cake in the evening, so this seemed a good way to cross the two ideas.

I have nothing to report about Halloween this year. Sad. I may have to start dressing up the dog or becoming one of those people who does fancy house decorations.

There was the election. 

Really neighbors?

I spent the first week after it trying to order my mind by taking cubes out of the mosaic display and solving them. It was a good way to kind of feel like I was doing something that was sort of nothing when I didn't want to do anything. Eventually my mom and Mona and I put up a new design.

 

 

Both Ian and the dog help when I'm down. Domino's so sweet and in the moment. She's funny to have at work when she's not barking at passing dogs. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Quinn and I stumbled upon an image of me walking Domino near the store on Google Maps!

I finally put a decorative thing at the end of our banister. The space looks wired for a light, but not in a way we've every figured out how to use, so I finally just found something I could switch on at the base, and is merely a shiny ball when it's off. I like it. Not an important house project, but one I'm glad I finally did.

 

November was a whirlwind of luthier adventures. I had been working on two violins and a viola with the intention of putting the viola in the Violin Society of America (VSA) competition. That instrument was a commission, and I asked the player if it was okay to enter it, with the understanding that that would mean making decisions dictated by a particular timeline. He encouraged me to go for it, but the homestretch was exhausting. Mostly because getting oil varnish done in time was cutting it close. 

The first of those instruments to get finished was the Guarneri model violin. I am very pleased with how it came out and it is happily being played by its new owner. I only use my personal bridge stamp on instruments I've made, and I enjoyed getting to use it again.

Varnish in evening light

On top of already feeling rushed with the viola, about a week before the convention I accidentally set the it down on a polishing rag while I was working on the pegs, and the alcohol in it dissolved through a section of varnish on the back. I spent about a day and a half indulging in the fantasy that I could simply retouch it, but finally admitted the right thing to do was strip the back and do it again. What a nail-biter. But the finished color I think is beautiful, and I got useful feedback from the judges, and the player is happy, so it's all fine.

Nooooooo!

Having to strip the whole back was painful, but necessary.

Finding morning light on the porch

Michelic viola!

 

 

All labels and stamps must be covered for the competition

 

On the competition table

Competition stuff is always odd to explain to people. They always ask how I did, and short of an award (which at this level is not really a possibility yet) I don't know what to say. I go to learn things. Some of it is very useful, and some of it is too subjective. A lot of the things that appeal to me aren't often things judges like. The best way I can describe it is like the Westminster Dog Show. The judges there aren't that interested in if you have a really nice dog, they want the dog to fit a set of standards.

So, for instance, the judges didn't like this dark streak where the maple on my viola sucked in a lot of color. One referred to it as "burned." Some of that has to do with the fact that I had to strip the back and go faster to color than I would have normally. But honestly, that streak is one of my favorite parts of that back. I like it.

 

The convention overall was one of the best ever. I love getting to meet so many people in my field in person that I already feel I know. I love getting to room with my friend Robyn at these events. I love learning things, and laughing at luthier jokes, and generally feeling like I'm with my people. 

There were some great lectures and demonstrations.

 

There was trivia night, good stuff in the vendor room, and a tin-can-violin making competition which included googly eyes and a lunch box.

 

A highlight was playing on instruments in the New Instrument Exhibit as an orchestra. I got to sit with my friend Marilyn, Darol Anger was in the violin section and treated us to some amazing improv

Emanuel Hill, our fine conductor!

We were early. The full viola section was mighty!

There was even a red carpet glam night for the awards ceremony, and Robyn looked even fancier than usual.

Although, speaking of looking good, Robyn and I were both amused by the fact that in our bathroom there were two mirrors, and in one we always looked nice, and then if you turned and looked in the other one it was.... not good. It was disconcerting! Because I would get ready to go, feel confident looking in the mirror above the sink, and then have to not glance to my left because then I felt frumpy and bad. This was my view in the good mirror. (Not showing you the bad because the internet is forever.)

The convention was in Indianapolis this year, which is where one of my childhood friends lives who I haven't seen in way too long. I missed the whole first day of lectures because hanging out with Jennifer was more important. She's still the best, and even provided me with lip balm when I needed it most.

The week following the convention was Thanksgiving! We had a full house this year with all our kids home, my mom, and my brother Barrett and his family. It was wonderful. We wound up with many many many pies, cheese appetizers that looked like pie, and the orange jello was weirdly in between. Not goo, but only short lived as a shape.

cheddar, crackers, cream cheese.... cute!

Aden, to my great delight, managed to repair our broken pachinko machine that weekend. We even replaced the battery in the back so it lights up when you hit the jackpot.

Mona's bird visited for the day. I miss that loud silly bird.

Barrett signed copies of his book with beautiful drawings for different family members.

He also brought me a mysterious book he found in Germany full of music I can't decipher. If anyone understands these clefs let me know!

Aden also became very good with plants over the summer, and took some time to tend all kind of things in pots over Thanksgiving break. My mom is an accomplished gardener, so it's interesting to see that skip me and land on Aden.

I played some fun concerts at the end of 2024. Playing with Festival City Symphony is always nice, but the most unusual venue was with Milwaukee Mandolin Orchestra at our Waukesha concert, because we played on a stage set up for a performance of the musical Legally Blonde later that night. Unusually pink for a holiday concert!

 

 

Mona continues to make adorable things for her Etsy shop:

We managed to go through not one, but two cookie presses this year, and finally bought a third one that we're hoping will last through this year into next. We have so many little cookie press discs at this point I decided to get a little tree to hang all the spares on.

The kids this year mostly got cards from us that reminded them that we provide College! Housing! Healthcare! Hugs! Domino got a replacement purple monkey for the ravaged original purple monkey that came home with her from the shelter. She likes them both equally,

Old monkey

New monkey

On Christmas Day we drove to Detroit where my mom had an incredible dinner waiting for us. It was a chicken curry with a ton of different little condiments like plum chutney and avocado and bacon and nuts, etc. Each bite could be delicious in a different way. I can't imagine anyone ate better at Christmas than we did. I once asked my dad what his favorite food was, and he said, "Whatever your mother is making tonight." That's a good answer.

My mom also helped us make a zuccotto, which was a dessert recipe we pulled out of a Martha Stewart magazine more than a dozen years ago and never got up the nerve to try. We made it a whole day's project, with sponge cake pressed into a bowl and filled with whipped cream berries and a crushed Heath bar and the whole dome is covered with chocolate and there is a vanilla cream sauce on the side. That was really fun, and I actually think if I do it again I can do it much better. Maybe for my birthday.

New Year's was quiet enough that I don't remember what we did. Although I saw a video of a place not far from here that does an annual cheese drop at 10pm on New Year's Eve (why not midnight?) and I've decided next year we're doing that.

And I will leave you with this conundrum of signage that was recently added to my short commute.

This seems like a good metaphor for life right now, where we are supposed to somehow stop and never stop, step back but be involved, be appreciative and outraged and the same time, and somehow persist when so much feels hopeless. Welcome to 2025.

Rethinking Concert Dress

When my daughter came out as trans, we were proud of her, and happy to share the news with those who care about her too. These are troubling times for trans-people and those who love them, but I'm grateful that attitudes have changed enough that she could come out, and not feel trapped in the wrong identity, maneuvering through the world conforming to expectations that do not fit her. I am fully supportive of her, and glad to help her on this journey however I am able.

The first thing we did to help, was take her shopping for new clothes. That's been fun. But it got me thinking about any moments she didn't have control over her sartorial decisions.

Most of my kids' clothes have been hand-me-downs from a friend back in Michigan. Whenever her daughter outgrew enough things to fill a box, my friend would pass it along to me. She started passing along her son's clothes, too, by the time we had our third child. But when my youngest took a liking to anything her older sisters had worn, she was certainly welcome to take it once they'd outgrown it. Her favorite shirt for years was a Jonas Brothers shirt I'd bought for my oldest when she requested something purple, and that was the only purple thing we could find at Target. When it no longer fit, her youngest sister snapped it up and wore it for years. She also had a strange pink-camo shirt with a sparkly butterfly on it that her cousin left behind one summer that she wore regularly. She wasn't limited by color or sparkles or anything inside our home or out of it. I didn't police any of my kids' clothes. The only rules were the clothes had to be clean and not have too many holes. (I declared weekends "holey days" in our house where beloved clothes that were coming apart could still be worn, but not to school.) There were many outings to the grocery store or choir rehearsals where one or more of my kids were dressed as kangaroos. My kids could where what they liked.

The exceptions, however, were: Weddings, funerals, and concerts.

These are situations where one needs formal clothes. I always think of formal attire as Concert Dress, since those are the events for which I have to dress in an expected manner with the greatest frequency. And unless we want to risk being seen as disrespectful, society dictates what is appropriate, not the individual.

And I realize, looking back with a certain amount of regret, that for formal occasions throughout my trans-daughter's life, I made her put on dress pants, boys' dress shoes and button up shirts. We even got her a blazer for a student UN event down in Chicago. She had to wear those clothes to one wedding, at least one funeral, a few school pictures, and many concerts.

In fact, it occurred to me, as I've been reviewing her childhood and what things related to her true identity I wish I could have done differently to spare her discomfort, that not a small part of her resistance to playing in recitals was probably the clothes. Most kids are nervous about playing recitals, but it could not have helped that being made to dress in a way that felt wrong was required for them. I'm sure Concert Dress added unnecessary anxiety.

This has gotten me thinking about how Concert Dress, and formal attire as a whole, needs to be updated.

The first place I looked to was my own experience with symphony orchestras. The required "uniform" has always been gendered. Which, by definition, makes them not so uniform. My whole orchestra career, men have been told to wear dark jackets and ties, and women full length black. Sometimes it's white on top, and black on the bottom (which has always made me feel like I'm back to waiting tables). In most situations, women wear whatever they like, it just has to be dressy enough, and black.

I think it's time to extend that "long black" as the only descriptor to everyone.

Most string players I know who are required to wear formal jackets find them restrictive. I see nothing wrong with ditching the jackets and ties and saying any simple, decent long-sleeved black top will do. I don't see any reason to dictate skirts vs. pants for anyone. Long black. However you want. Go nuts.

Because looking down the line at younger players, that's a generation full of people who don't want to be forced to conform to the current binary options that earlier generations simply accepted. I don't want orchestras to lose out on talented players because the dress code doesn't accommodate them. I know plenty of trans, non-binary, and gender-queer kids, for whom being told "Men wear jackets and ties, women wear long black" would put them in an uncomfortable position. For what?

I only ever got to participate in a marching band once. Back in high school, our orchestra director asked for advanced string players to volunteer to learn parts on mallet instruments to help fill out a complicated piece the marching band was doing that season. I got to play marimba. I also got to wear a band uniform, which was really fun. And it struck me how there was no "boy uniform" and "girl uniform." Everyone in the band matched. It looked good. Same when choirs wear all the same robes, regardless of gender. Maybe it's time for orchestras to follow suit.

Often private teachers when instructing their young musicians to dress up for a recital tend to request they wear "nice" clothes (no jeans or sneakers), or some version of what people used to call "Sunday best." This still implies to many (like myself) rather gendered options, even if that's not explicitly stated. I think at this point, if I were still teaching, I would tell my students to wear something that makes them the most happy. I remember telling my oldest she had to wear something nice when we went to see The Nutcracker when she was young, and she proudly donned a tie dye shirt she'd made. She was surprised when I told her that it didn't qualify as "formal." She felt that meant she should wear the thing she thought was the most beautiful, and between the colors and the good memories all wrapped up in that t-shirt, it qualified in her mind. I think if I had it to do again, I would allow the tie dye, and add a fancy necklace or something.

"Formal" shouldn't have to mean only skirts/dresses, or slacks and jackets. Men in particular have very few choices. I think we need to get more creative about what constitutes "formal" so that it can include a neutral option that would work for anyone, regardless of gender identity.

Because meaningful events like concerts, weddings, funerals, etc., should be about inclusion and coming together. Not allowing outdated ideas of sticking people into overly specific categories to take precedence over more important things, like music and families and life.

It's time to rethink Concert Dress. It's a relatively small adjustment that could do more good than many realize. It's time to move on to something better that includes everyone who wants to participate. It could have helped my kid, which means it would likely help many other kids. That alone makes it worth doing.

Grand

I have the privilege of playing with a wonderful group of musicians here in Milwaukee in an orchestra called Festival City Symphony. Once upon a time they were the Milwaukee Civic Orchestra, but they changed the name to Festival City (which reflects the exciting number of festivals Milwaukee hosts annually) a couple of years before I moved here.

It's an orchestra comprised of people who take music seriously, and probably majored in it, but performance did not become their day job. There are a lot of music teachers and gig musicians and freelancers, but many who do any number of other jobs to pay the bills and still make the time for orchestra. Because if you grew up playing in an orchestra, it's hard to picture life without it.

Many musicians got a taste of life without it during the first year of the pandemic and it felt like missing a limb. Festival City canceled the end of its season in the spring of 2020, but started up again with many protocols in place in the fall. I ventured back into rehearsals and onto the stage earlier this year. It's been a relief and a challenge all at once.

The opening of this season, however, was remarkable. We are in a new exciting space.

Our concerts pre-pandemic were in the Pabst Theater. It's beautiful, and has my favorite chandelier. During the pandemic we shifted to a hall out at the Wilson Center, which was fine. (A bit of a haul out of the city, but fine.) However, for several years the Milwaukee Symphony Orchestra has been renovating an Art Deco movie theater in the heart of downtown called the Grand Warner. It has sat closed the entire time I've lived here, and I only heard stories from people about how beautiful it was inside. The MSO acquired the building and put a lot of effort and money into moving walls to create a real stage, and expanding the building with a modern addition to the side. The grand opening was supposed to be fall of 2020. They only just moved in recently.

One of the benefactors who donated money to the whole enterprise happens to be a former Festival City musician. He loves our orchestra and knows its worth to the community. He managed to carve out a deal that allows us to perform in that gorgeous building as well.

Wow.

Now, I'm a bit sad that the last time I performed in the Pabst, I didn't know it was the last time I was performing on that stage. The plan was always to move on to the new Bradley Symphony Center inside the Warner theater for this season, but with the previous season cut short and then the venue moved, we didn't finish at the Pabst the way we expected to.

However, what an incredible experience to play in a hall that is specifically designed for an orchestra. Not a space that is designed for a variety of events that an orchestra can also use. This new hall is conceived entirely around what a symphony orchestra needs and you feel it at every turn.

First of all, just from an anyone perspective, the whole building is stunningly beautiful. In centuries past, the grandest structures that money could buy in any town were usually places of worship. In modern and more secular times it seems to me that museums and concert halls are the new cathedrals where society places the greatest importance on design and beauty in order to cradle and showcase the achievements of which we are most proud. This new hall is no exception, and is one of those landmarks where you feel a tad smug that people outside of Milwaukee don't know what they're missing. The great things in our city don't tend to be for tourists, since nobody visits Milwaukee without a reason. There's something extra special about stepping inside a beautiful concert hall that is intended for us, the locals. I hope everyone in the city gets a chance to enjoy it and feel inspired there.

This is the point where I'm going to apologize for not having better pictures. (Go look at the pretty ones in that first link when you have time.) Most of what I had access to was from the stage or behind the scenes, and when I went out in the general areas to explore, I kept hearing staff on their modern walkie-talkies behind me sharing the information that, "The musicians are wandering." I was eventually gently herded backstage, but not before I poked my head onto the balcony to see what things looked like from that direction.

There are restored paintings on the walls of very white people doing very stylized rich people things which are both pretty and kind of funny.

I miss the chandelier from the Pabst, but it makes sense that in a theater originally designed for movies one wouldn't have made a lot of sense. But there is a lovely ceiling nonetheless, and a couple of elaborate light fixtures hanging off to the sides.

And I only got a glimpse of the lobby from above, but it was all just gorgeous.

And everywhere you look there are restored details to admire (like this one little piece of a bit of railing at the top of the stairs).

One of the other details I enjoyed was where they left evidence of the original outside walls. I noticed in the alley I walked through next to the building when I was trying to find the stage door, that there were old painted warnings on the brick admonishing people not to park below the fire escapes (which was amusing since there are no fire escapes on any of those walls now). Some of those same warnings are now inside the building! I love that they left that when they expanded beyond those walls.

So that's the kind of stuff everyone can get to enjoy. My perspective is generally more like this:

But here is a good place to start pointing out cool musician oriented details! First of all, the stage chairs are fancy. I don't know if they are smart, because we had to get a tutorial at the beginning of the rehearsal mostly to inform us that the two levers under the seat must only be ever pulled up. Apparently if you push down on them (and everything about them suggests you should push down on them) they will break. One lever adjusts the height of the seat, and the other the angle, but I was too scared to touch them and decided I was fine with whatever height and angle was there when I sat down. But they were very comfortable and excellent for orchestral playing,

The other thing is the stands. I wasn't sold on the chairs, but I want one of those stands.

It was solid, wide, and smooth (the most common type of stand has inexplicable bumps on it that sometimes interfere with marking a paper part with a pencil), and best of all had a lower shelf lined with a grippy material perfect for setting your bow in. (And considering there's an entire movement of the Tchaikovsky symphony we played that's all pizzicato, that shelf came in handy.)

That shelf is also perfect for pencils, rosin.... I love the shelf.

Only less than optimal thing was the height adjustment required you unscrew something first, but eh. You don't do it that often anyway.

The brass and woodwinds had their own sections on risers. And there are seats behind and on the sides above the orchestra that I assume are for singers.

But it's the stuff offstage that I think I appreciated most.

At the Pabst, the green room was under the stage. It was okay. There were some tables and chairs, a couch or two, inadequate bathroom facilities, a TV that was only on when players wanted to check a Packer game. There were dressing room spaces that some people used to unpack their instruments and store their cases and coats, but most of us found space to balance our things on random beams that were the structural supports behind the adjustable stage walls. There were a few tables on one end, and cellists tended to prop their cases along a wall, but not too close to the hot pipes. It was dark back there, and dirty. It wasn't really where we were supposed to store our things, but it was the most convenient place in terms of proximity to the stage.

The new building? Well, the green room is across the hall and on the same level and includes monitors of the stage.

Lots of light in this building, and lots of windows. And I noticed signs indicating practice rooms upstairs, so that must be nice. 

And in the wings around and behind the stage there was so much light and useful storage! Not to mention several mirrors, a couple of large monitors so you could see the stage, and lots of room to move.

Even the chains on the shelves had little plastic covers on them so you wouldn't snag yourself on anything. It was great to have an actual spot to set my case right off the stage.

 

There were cubbies for cellos on their side of the stage.

Also? Amazing security. That place was on top of everything (including "wandering musicians"), so I wasn't worried about leaving any of my stuff backstage. 

This concert was also the first event I've attended since the pandemic began that required proof of vaccination (or two negative tests within a few days), and nearly everyone was masked, so I was far more at ease in such a crowded setting than at anything similar in recent memory.

And aside from all the beauty and practical details? The hall sounds incredible. Which is truly the whole point. The sound engineers and acoustics people did an astonishing job. It's almost a little too good, in that you can hear everything on that stage and you become very self aware. I took my necklace off after the sound check, because the clicking sound it made as I put my instrument to my neck seemed like it might carry to the audience. Probably not? But it sure felt possible.

I'm pleased to report the concert itself went well. We played Dvorak's Carnival Overture, Bizet's Orchestral Suite from Carmen, and Tchaikovsky's Symphony Number 4. And I have to say, the sound of the brass reverberating in the hall in the rests following their big opening chords of the symphony was really something. It is a magical place to hear the power of live music.

If you're in the area and want to experience something grand, I highly recommend you get a ticket to whatever is happening there. (And Festival City Symphony concerts are free! Come join us! This season's schedule is here. William Grant Still, Aaron Copeland, Mendelssohn, Schubert... lots to like.)