But anyway, we'd just put a few new plants in the ground and I realized it was getting late and Mark had probably forgotten about the violinist. Me being the good partner I am, I thought I'd better mention it, even if I wasn't too hip on going. "Oh!" Mark said. "Shoot! It's probably too late! It might have been at 6 or something!" It was 6:20 p.m.
I ran in and looked online. "8:00," I called out.
"If we leave at 7, we can make it," Mark said. I looked at the clock. Now it was 6:25.
I jumped in the shower while Mark watered all our new plants and even put in a few new ones. We zoomed up to Northport, having found out at the last minute through google that it actually takes an hour and 9 minutes to get there and having left, of course, five minutes later than planned...
but somehow, miraculously (or maybe because Mark drove at an uncharacteristic high rate of speed) we arrived in 45 minutes...10 to 8!... and were able to park, buy tickets, and get to our seats with time to spare.
Northport, Michigan is in the middle of nowhere. But somehow they have a community arts center that's rather nice! But let me repeat, middle of nowhere. The nearby towns do not exceed 1,000 people. TC, an hour away, is 14,000. Why they were having someone of the caliber of Stanislov Pronin is beyond me, but THEY DID. And WAS I GRATEFUL.
Okay, so let me tell you what happened. We sat down and this young guy came out...he was wearing black pants and a swirly black and tan and gold shirt...and he began to play. The music was sweet and plaintive, not too complicated at first, but rose and fell with such emotion...it was obvious from note one that we were in the hands of a master. I was transfixed.
He finished "Meditation from the opera "Thais," by Jules Massenet, and took the microphone to welcome us and explain a little about the next piece. He was so down-to-earth and personable. He then launched into "Ciaccona from Partita fro solo violin BMV I004," by J.S. Bach, quite a long piece...okay, and here is where I guess I have to be brutally honest and admit that I might have dozed off a little during this part. (But that's only because I got up reeeeeeeally early to see the marathoners coming by our house at 7 a.m. and wound up clapping for FOUR HOURS STRAIGHT because the half-marathoners, who had started up the peninsula, started coming by in the other direction just as the whole-marathoners starters were waning, and then the whole-marathoners started coming back and passing some of the half-marathoners...it just never ended! So I never got to go back to bed! So I was kind of sleepy.)
I was jolted awake at the end of the Bach by a resounding ending stroke on the violin...or had it been the tumultous applause of the audience? I wasn't sure. In any case, I was now fully alert for "La Gitana," by Fritz Kreisler, and the rest of the concert. Though I had missed perhaps a few moments of the Bach (okay, most of it), I had still been aware through my sleepy haze that this man was a GENIUS! And now I was treated to absolute proof of this fact.
This man is a genius, people. In all seriousness, I have never had such a reaction to a concert before. It was strange. After listening to him play eight more pieces and then an encore of Paganini, I wanted to weep. I don't know how to describe it; it wasn't any particular piece that was sad or moving, nor a specific passage that inspired a well-spring of emotion, but the entire experience itself...the utter musical genius of this person and the incredible gift that he had given. Tears actually welled up in my eyes and my whole body was just suffused with gratitude and appreciation and awe.
Wow.
Thanks, Stanislav.
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