The next page on the calendar / Das nächste Kalenderblatt

Even though it’s only a question of labeling, there is a certain way in which the first day of a new month feels different from the last day of the previous month. On July 31st, the summer is at its peak. On August 1st, everything is different! I try to convince myself that it’s lack of water rather then the approaching of fall that is turning the leaves red on one of the trees I pass on the way to the bus station. The gladiolas that were so beautiful in one of the gardens have suddenly wilted. It must be a kind that blooms early.  

Eigentlich ist es ja nur eine Frage der Bezeichnung, aber in gewisser Weise fühlt sich der erste Tag des neuen Monats anders an als der letzte Tag des alten Monats. Am 31. Juli ist der Sommer auf seinem Höhepunkt.. Am 1. August ist alles anders. Ich versuche mir einzureden, dass die bunten Blätter an einem Baum auf dem Weg zur Bushaltestelle eine Folge der Trockenheit sind. Die prächtigen Gladiolen, die ich in einem der Gärten bewundert habe, sind auf einmal verblüht. Es muss sich wohl um eine frühe Sorte handeln.

School supplies are on sale in the stores, and I still haven’t completed the progress reports I write for my students at the end of each school year. That happened because I was teaching at camp unexpectedly - but that was a month ago! At my first attempt to draft the studio calendar, I could only do so much, because the calendar of the Maplewood/South Orange school district only listed events until Thanksgiving. In the meantime, one of my students sent me the complete updated version. It’s so nice to have excuses, and there goes another one...

In den Läden ist Schulbedarf im Sonderangebot, und die Beurteilungen, die ich am Ende des Schuljahres für meine Schüler schreibe, sind immer noch nicht fertig. Das ist nur passiert, weil ich unvorhergesehenerweise im Klaviercamp unterrichtet habe - aber das war vor einem Monat! Beim ersten Versuch, den Studiokalender für das kommende Schuljahr zusammenzustellen, ging der Kalender der Schulverwaltung von Maplewood/South Orange nur bis Thanksgving im November. Inzwischen hat mir eine Schülerin die aktuelle, komplette Version geschickt. Es tut so gut, Entschuldigungen zu haben, und jetzt habe ich eine weniger... 

Suddenly, the recital I have scheduled for September 24h at the Ethical Culture Society in Maplewood is next month! Fortunately I have the program together and everything‘s memorized, but there is still a lot of work to do, plus tryouts - and I’ll be going on vacation the week before school starts, which means I have to get everything ready for teaching  before I leave, contact people to set up the schedule, finalize the studio policies, possibly do orientations for new students...

Mein Konzert bei der Ethical Culture Society in Maplewood am 24. September ist plötzlich nächsten Monat! Zum Glück habe ich das Programm zusammen und bin fertig mit Auswendiglernen. Trotzdem ist noch viel zu tun, und ich muss Probevorspiele organisieren - und ich bin eine Woche in Urlaub bevor die Schule anfängt, und das bedeutet dass ich alles für den Unterricht fertig haben muss, bevor ich fahre: den Stundenplan, die Unterrichtsverträge, möglicherweise Orientierungsgespräche mit neuen Schülern...

   

It’s the “midlife crisis” of summer. You always knew that there was only so much time, but now you’re starting to really feel it. I think I’m going to count weeks from now on, it feeds the illusion that I have more time...

Es ist die “midlife crisis” des Sommers. Man wusste immer schon, dass die Zeit begrenzt war, nun beginnt man, es zu fühlen. Von jetzt an werde ich Wochen zählen, das unterstützt die Illusion, dass ich mehr Zeit habe...  

A Review of Winter / Ein Rueckblick auf den Winter

Today it’s official: Spring is here. In spite of the calendar, it seems not everybody got the message yet. Or do the owners of this house simply dare to live out openly what I feel secretly: do they prefer the winter over the summer, the fresh white snow over the scorching sun, the glorious beauty of the fall to the unrest of the spring?

Seit heute ist es offiziell: Der Fruehling ist da! Trotz des Kalenders ist die Botschaft offenbar noch nicht ueberall angekommen. Oder haben die Besitzer dieses Hauses einfach nur den Mut, das offen auszuleben, was ich insgeheim fuehle: moegen sie den Winter lieber als den Sommer, den frischen weissen Schnee lieber als die sengende Sonne, ziehen sie die ueberschwengliche Schoenheit des Herbstes der Unruhe des Fruehlings vor?  

I have to admit that I only took my Christmas decorations down last Sunday, when we put the clock ahead to summer time. 

Ich muss zugeben, dass auch ich die Weihnachtsdekorationen erst letzten Sonntag abgeraeumt habe, als wir die Uhr auf Sommerzeit umgestellt haben.

It takes me at least a week to adjust to the change, and things don’t feel quite right again until we get the lost hour back in the fall. While I’m still in transition, here’s a look back at some of the special moments of this past winter, using photographs I was planning to write blogs about, but never got around to it. 

Ich brauche wenigstens eine Woche fuer die Umstellung, und bin nicht so richtig zufrieden, bis wir die verlorene Stunde im Herbst wiederbekommen. Waehrend ich noch damit beschaeftigt bin, mich auf die neue Uhrzeit einzustellen, hier ein Rueckblick auf einige besondere Augenblicke im vergangenen Winter, mit Fotos, ueber die ich eigentlich Blogs schreiben wollte... 

The big snow storm in December plastered the snow against the windows, giving the  apartment somewhat of an igloo-feeling. A good excuse to enjoy some quality time at home. 

Der Schneesturm im Dezember hinterliess die Fenster mit Schnee verklebt, und in der Wohnung kam man sich vor wie im Iglu. Eine gute Ausrede, es sich zu Hause gemuetlich zu machen.

Others used the protection of a snow bank for an intimate conversation.

Andere benutzten den Schutz der Schneebank fuer ein intensives persoenliches Gespraech.

The snowstorm silenced traffic and pedestrians had the reign of the streets, even in New York City. 

Im Schneesturm kam der Verkehr zum Erliegen, und die Fussgaenger uebernahmen das Regiment, sogar in New York City.

In Germany, the snow started to melt just around that time. This snowman, on my friend Mechtild’s balcony in Cologne, fell over on New Year’s Day and lost its face.

In Deutschland fing es um diese Zeit an zu tauen. Dieser Schneemann auf dem Balkon meiner Freundin Mechtild in Koeln fiel am Neujahrstag um und verlor sein Gesicht.

This photo shows a nativity scene made of chocolate, seen in the window of a fancy candy store in Muenster, Germany. I wonder whether anyone actually eats it, or whether it spends the rest of the year in a freezer, to reappear next holiday season.

Dieses Foto zeigt eine Schokoladenkrippe im Schaufenster eines vornehmen Suesswarengeschaeftes in Muenster. Ich frage mich, ob sie tatsaechlich jemand isst, oder ob sie in einer Gefriertruhe verschwindet um zum naechsten Fest wieder aufzutauchen.

There’s nothing like the magic of a winter sun rise,

Die Sonnenaufgaenge im Winter sind zauberhaft,

the trees looking like glass,

so wie die “Baeume aus Glass”,

the blue sky after an ice storm,

der blaue Himmel nach dem Eisregen, 

and Central Park after a February snow.

und Central Park nach einem Schneefall im Februar.

I have to admit that it was nice to hear the birds twitter again this morning. During the coldest days of the winter, they seemed to have disappeared altogether, seeking shelter in unusual places, like this white dove, who I found in the South Orange Train Station in January. 

Ich muss zugeben dass es schoen war, heute morgen die Voegel singen zu hoeren. An den kaeltesten Tagen des Winters schienen sie ganz verschwunden zu sein. Sie suchten an ungewoehnlichen Orten Schutz, wie diese weisse Taube, die ich im Januar in South Orange im Bahnhof fand. 

There is something hopeful in the first flowers that appear between the debris of a storm  

Es liegt etwas Hoffnungsvolles in den ersten Blueten, die zwischen den Truemmern eines Sturms auftauchen

and the words that someone left in the snowbank by the bus station one day in the winter are something to remember in every season of the year:

und die Worte, die jemand eines Tages im Winter auf der Schneebank an der Bushaltestelle hinterliess, gelten fuer alle Jahreszeiten: “Heute” ist gut.

Have a Happy Spring!

Beste Wuensche fuer ein froehliches Fruehjahr!

Heartwarming Wishes

When I went to South Orange this morning to put my Christmas Cards in the mail, the pole of the big clock in the center of town caught my attention. It looked different than usually. Something was wrapped around it, looking a little messy from a distance. 

Coming closer, I found one of the most heartwarming Christmas decorations I’ve ever seen: hand made woolen scarves and items, samples with good wishes, as if to warm the cast iron pole ... and maybe time itself?

May you all find something 

to warm your heart this Christmas.

The emotional side of it

All the people back in New Hampshire who were so kind to help me learn how to drive and get my license will be really disappointed: I’ve sold my car and ended my driving career for the time being.

In the past 6 months I’ve driven about 20 miles, mostly between my apartment and the railroad station (4 miles round-trip) and rolling the car in and out of the driveway so that  my neighbors could get their cars out. In the end, we simply left my car at the end of the line, and I didn’t drive it for months.

There are too many roads in NJ. I can’t handle more than 3 lanes on the highway, and there are too many cars. People cut corners all the time and change their minds without signaling. Everybody drives incredibly fast, and even in New Hampshire I came to understand I that I’m a slow driver. 

Driving in New Hampshire had its own challenges. When I’m driving, I don’t like to share the road with anyone, be it cars, moose, bear or deer. On the other hand, I don’t like to be in the woods by myself, either, even if I’m on the highway in the car. What if I get lost or the car breaks down in a spot where the cell phone doesn’t work? 

It’s a no-win situation. Sometimes being able to drive is convenient, but I haven’t come to like it. Despite the best intentions, once I had moved to Maplewood I was back to my old and cherished transportation habits before I knew it: walk, bike, public transport, a cab every once in a while or a ride with a friend. 

Wherever those means of transportation can’t take me, I don’t really need to go. If I’m honest I have to admit that I don’t want to drive. 

I understand that I might be depriving myself of opportunities and I am sure that I would become a decent driver within weeks if my existence and well-being, or those of a friend, depended on it. Fortunately, that’s not the case at the moment.

By the way, the people who bought the car were also looking for a piano teacher......

A wish for the New Year: Orientation

I suspect it is the legacy of the geography teachers in my family (my mother and my grandfather) that always makes me want to know where I am on the map. This is especially true for new locations. 

When I moved to Maplewood this summer, I automatically assumed that New York City was in the same direction as the train station 2 miles from here. Then, I started to take the bus, because it is just two blocks from where I live. It seemed to go in the opposite direction than the train, and  the twists and turns that it takes on the way to the city got me really confused. After 6 months, I still hadn’t figured it out.

NJT Bus 107, South Orange - NYC Port Authority

                                  

Maplewood Train Station, waiting for the "Midtown Direct" to Penn Station NYC  

When I got home yesterday afternoon, the sun catchers in the windows of the music room were sparkling in the light of the setting sun. The windows face in the direction of the train station. Suddenly, I had a revelation. 

The sunset illuminates the music room, and the sunrise illuminates the kitchen - something must be wrong with the map in my mind. 

The house on Peachtree Road - the upstairs windows belong to the music room

This morning I was sitting at the breakfast table in the kitchen, drawing a map of the world as I see it, and finally things started to fall into place.  

View from the Kitchen window at sunrise

Figuring it out by yourself is so much more fun than looking at a real map. In fact, I had looked at a “real map” before, but I could never get it to match the image I had in my mind.

It occurred to me that I figure out pieces of music in a similar way. Of course, I can “scan” the piece through and find the parts that constitute a form “rationally” - exposition, 1st and 2nd subject, development, recapitulation. But it is not the same kind of revelation as playing different sections of the piece back to back - a way of practicing that I recommend often - and suddenly realizing through the sound, by way of my senses “Oh yes, this IS the second subject,”. 

Not knowing where you are is worse than knowing you’re in the wrong place, they say. So, my New Year’s wish for everybody including myself is that we will always know where we are, and if we find ourselves in the wrong place, we’ll use that knowledge in order to get moving in a more promising direction.

  

Sunday in the Park

A Warm Welcome

Christmas Carols

Free Jazz

Photo Shoot

Sun Bathing in November

A Thanksgiving Story

I went for a walk after returning home from the Thanksgiving Dinner last night. It had been a surprise invitation - Maxine works for Steinway, and we had only met once before. Two days ago, she called, and when she heard I had no plans for Thanksgiving, she invited me on the spot. The warm welcome, the pleasant afternoon in friendly company still before my mind’s eye, I walked through the dark and quiet streets. Thanksgiving is for the US what Christmas is for Germany - it really shuts the country down. I wondered whether the 24-hour drugstore a few blocks from here was open and I could pick up some cat litter for Cappuccina. 

The store was open, and surprisingly busy. The holiday spirit that prevailed in the city had run a little thin coming out to Irvington, it seemed. No people in festive clothes, with smiles on their faces, carrying flowers, and bowls and pans wrapped in aluminum foil. Business as usual at the drugstore, hectic even, some folks merely hanging out, it seemed, the security guard in his place by the entrance. 

Two registers were open, long lines gathering in front of them. An old woman was first in the line next to me. She wore simple black clothes and a black hat. Her face looked weary and tired, her mouth was toothless. I wasn’t really paying attention, lost in thought. The old woman was talking to the cashier and several people behind the counter. Bits of the conversation intruded into my reverie. My line moved. 

The man in front of me handed the cashier his credit card. He had only picked up one or two items. Though the evening was chilly, he wore a light blue summer jacket that hadn’t been to the dry cleaner in a while. The beige chinos were too short and worn out. The conversation at the next register continued. Slowly, the old woman put items into her shopping cart. Something about the man in front of me caught my attention. I couldn’t really see his face - maybe it was the warm confidence in his voice. 

Still engaged in his own transaction, he reached into his wallet, took out a $20 bill and handed it to the cashier at the next register, who was dealing with the old woman. For a moment, everybody  who witnessed the scene fell silent. She didn’t understand. “It's paid for,” people explained. At last, her face brightened, as if lit from within. Still shaking her head in disbelief, smiling, calling blessings on her benefactor to last him a lifetime, she left the store.

The holiday spirit made it to Irvington. It was just traveling incognito.

Home Studio (2) - Announcement from the Cat

This is to notify everybody that Cappuccina has appointed herself 

studio assistant 

to Birgit’s Piano Studio

Responsibilities include:

Writing e-mails

Answering the phone

Entertaining the studio giraffe

Taking care of the music library

Assisting with the production of advertising materials.

 Here: First attempt, hand crafted. 

In the meantime, we have upgraded to computer design.

Milestones

Do certain pieces of music remind you of certain times in your life? When Alison wrote about Bach’s Partita in b-minor, the “French Overture” I felt transported back in time, to the fall of 1996. 

I was teaching piano full time, at two different schools at opposite ends of the city. One day a week, I attended classes at music college, trying to get a dissertation off the ground. My mother was dying, and the entire family was having a hard time.

One evening, I unexpectedly had 30 minutes off before directing a choir rehearsal. I hadn’t played solo for ever. I took a volume of Bach from the shelf, leafed through it, and started to read through the French Ouverture, just to see what it was. Such beauty, such gorgeous music - this was what I REALLY wanted to spend my time with. Despite my degrees in music education and piano I had the feeling that there was a big hole at the center of my skills and knowledge: I hardly ever managed “to be in the music” when I played, and especially when I performed. 

The struggle with the dissertation had put an end to my daily practicing. This made me miserable. I was still doing some accompanying, but didn’t find that very satisfying.  

My mother’s dying was slow and painful. It took almost another year until she passed away. During these trying times, learning the French Ouverture became my life line. I had never been able to memorize the music of Johann Sebastian Bach, my favorite music. I was determined to do it this time - and I did. 

In the little spare time I had - mostly while traveling on public transport between the two music schools, music college and my parents’ house -  I was reading a book, Seymour Bernstein’s “With your own two hands”. The connection between practicing music and “real life” is a major topic in this book. I found it tremendously helpful and encouraging. 

A few weeks after my mother’s passing, I played the French Ouverture for Seymour Bernstein. This was the beginning of studying with him. My dissertation never got finished, but I discovered how to “be in the music” when I play the piano. 

The magical formula he gave me was : “Don’t think, listen and feel”. It works not only at the piano, but in real life as well.   

Sometimes, it takes a painful experience to put you in touch with what you really need, and sad endings can lead to powerful new beginnings.

Links:

http://www.seymourbernstein.com/

http://alisonspianoblog.blogspot.com 

Caught between the Lines - an experience in dysfunctional communication

More than a year ago, a German organization invited a friend of mine to teach a workshop in Germany. When it came to figuring out the details, I translated correspondence and sometimes negotiated on his behalf.

At first, everything went smoothly. In addition to the fee, the organization, represented by A., agreed to pay for my friend’s flight and hotel. It seemed like a tall order for a weekend workshop, but A. was talking about contracts to be sent out soon.

Some more details needed to be cleared up, a few messages went back and forth. My friend realized that he wasn’t quite happy with some of the details, and asked me to request a few changes. I had a feeling A. wouldn’t be thrilled, but did my best to communicate the request in an open and polite way.

In the meantime, two other prestigious institutions had learnt about my friend’s visit to the country, and invited him to teach. A. knew about this, in fact, her organization had tried to secure an additional engagement for him earlier on, but this had not worked out.

For weeks, there was no response. My friend became worried, thinking that A. must be ill, or have other serious reasons for not responding. He insisted on writing to B., a friend of A., who also knew about project. B. answered after a few days, no, everything was fine, A. would get in touch with us whenever she was ready.

More time passed, during which we heard nothing from A. At last, my friend felt it was time to look into booking flights. The event was only three months away. Still there were no news from A., whose organization had agreed to pay for the flight. It seemed a good idea to touch base with them, and receive a confirmation before booking anything. My friend wrote several messages that remained unanswered. He started to become impatient and angry, understanding the silence as a personal insult. Unfortunately he has had similar experiences with Germany in the past.

At last I wrote - asking whether A. had received my recent message regarding the change of my contact information. I also inquired about the changes in the program my friend had requested, and asked A. to let me know if they caused any problems.

Two days later, A. informed me of the cancellation of the entire project, due to financial difficulties of the organization. She expressed her deepest regrets, and asked me to translate her message - she said she wasn’t able to find the words in English.

I think I did an adequate job of translating the message, but I added the wrong comment: “At least there was a serious reason for her silence.” Of course, I assumed she had been trying to save the project until the minute she informed me of the cancellation.

Shortly after I received the message from A., my friend received an e-mail from the president of the organization- a person we had never heard of before. A copy of that message was addressed to me - to my old e-mail address, which has ceased to function a month ago. I had just asked A. to confirm that she had received my new e-mail address.....

The president's message mainly consisted of the copy of a letter he said he had sent to my friend in June, informing him of the cancellation. The letterhead shows it was sent to the address where my friend teaches during the winter. Normally, the mail is automatically forwarded to his summer home from there, but who knows......

After he sent the letter, the president of the organization apparently never realized that he hadn’t received the confirmation he had asked my friend to send. It’s vacation time in Germany - maybe he went on vacation.

My friend was furious. I was, too. The cancellation was disappointing, but unfortunately this is something you have to be ready for these days. It was the way it was communicated that made us so angry: the lack of transparency, the delayed answers, the lack of responsibility when it came to making sure that important information was received.

If anyone in A’s organization took the trouble to take a step back and look at “the big picture,” they must have realized that their cancellation would have an impact, and possibly jeopardize the other two events. Had everyone been informed when A’s organization decided to pull out, this issue might have been resolved.

How about my friend, an internationally known teacher in his 80s, who has changed many people's lives - wouldn't he deserve to be treated with more respect? How about his work, about which A. published an enthusiastic article in a magazine? How about the students, who will not get the opportunity to work with him?

Are these aspects that matter at all, or is this primarily about the benefit an organization gains from someone else’s reputation - and if things don’t work out, you quietly sneak out the back door and keep a low profile.

As a German citizen I felt deeply embarrassed by the poor handling of the matter on the part of the German organization, sensing issues I had often criticized: the bureaucracy, the habit of hiding behind procedures, the lack of personal responsibility.

When I was ready to lash out at the people who screwed this up, and send them a message telling them what I thought of their behavior, my friend asked me to stop. “It will only create hostility,” he said. I didn’t send the message, because I sensed he was right.