Hello! 7 Lessons I Learned in Paris
“April in Paris, chestnut trees in bloom, festive tables under the trees.” -EY Harburg
After reveling in a mountaintop experience, it often takes a couple of days for you to not only regain altitude and perspective; it takes a bit of time to fully understand what, exactly, just happened.
This was our trip to France.
Accompanying thirty-six young musicians to Paris for a three-concert tour turned out to be an incredible experience that I cannot fully report in this newsletter. My words will fall short; our images will be lost for the most part; and stories enthusiastically told to eagerly waiting family members will only reveal a glimpse of the experience. What happens when vision meets strategy, passion meets energy, and divine inspiration meets faith cannot be understood by those who miss the mountaintop. But because it is now a part of who I am, I feel compelled to try to share it with you.
Paris was, for me anyway, the fruit of almost fourteen years of musical training in my children. And my heart was overflowing with joy as I celebrated. After hearing “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star” played mostly with less than perfect intonation more than ten thousand times; of the stomping, eye-rolling, and ‘I hate the violin’ when my kids were too irritable to practice; of the weekly 90-minute roundtrips to Westport for lessons: seeing not only my own Ben and Cristina, but also the twelve- to eighteen-year-old kids in the orchestra, playing Beethoven’s “Fifth,” and the Barber’s “Adagio for Strings” in a medieval cathedral in central Paris left me boiling. Tears stained my cheeks as the music moved and took my soul to a height never before imagined. Forged friendships with the most unsuspecting partners, as common ground was discovered and shared. The barriers erected by political divisions, theological differences and ideological disparities collapsed under the international love language of music.
It was an extraordinary experience and I learned a few lessons along the way:
1) We stand on the tall shoulders of the spiritual giants who came before us. When one visits a city with cathedrals still standing after the frenzy of the Crusades and the many battles that were fought there, one realizes the magnitude of the spiritual convictions of those who came before us. Studying Chartres Cathedral, and walking the aisles of La Trinite and Madeleine Cathedrals, where our sons performed, allowed me not only the luxury of admiring stained glass windows depicting prominent Biblical themes; It allowed me to reflect on the vision, inspiration, and dedication with which they were crafted. In earlier times in Paris, religion was not a part of life. it was life
2) Art, music and literature are necessary components to create a life worth living. As good shoes, good mattresses and good books are necessary elements of all childhood; good art, good music, and good literature provide the necessary nourishment for the soul. Walking through the halls of the Louvre, and my favorite museum in Paris, the Musee D’Orsay, made me appreciate even more the importance of fabulous art. They don’t call these guys teachers for nothing. I am convinced that the world would be safer and happier if everyone learned to paint, played a musical instrument or sang in a choir, and read classical literature every day. Music remains the universal language of the heart; Anyone who doesn’t understand this had better start listening to Mozart.
3) Celebrate serendipity. A lesson already explored in both my book and previous Newsletters bears repeating here, as I have witnessed, embraced, and practiced what I preach. Most of you will already know that I have an excessive passion for the color lime green (or disease, depending on your perspective). It was pure chance that, while walking down a Parisian street looking for French ceramics and candles, we came across a lime green sofa against the brick wall of a store. I started laughing hysterically. Where else but Paris would I find a lime green sofa in the middle of the street? I quickly sat in it, revealed it in the experience, and allowed it to be captured on film. It was a fluke that while walking through a Tony shopping district, I was grabbed from behind, only to find a Parisian woman who spoke no English trying to tell me that her last name was “La Coq” and that, please, could I tell him where he was? could she buy the Vera Bradley backpack she was wearing, which featured roosters and eggs? I happily told her, in English, that she was no longer available, but told her in sign language to get out a piece of paper and a pen so she could type in the website where she might have some luck. The chance of that meeting still makes me smile. Maybe it was a fluke that our tour guide was almost perfect; that our flights were uneventful; that our hotel was perfectly located; and that the Parisian orchestra, which played a joint concert with us, was well prepared and delicious. Serendipity or angels watching over us: we celebrate each and every little victory.
4) Food plays a very important role in the celebration of life. Being French means having a passion for all things food. They unapologetically indulge in the culinary arts and enjoy all of its inherent stress-relieving side benefits three times a day. They endorse a modus operandi of ‘live to eat’ rather than ‘eat to live’ And it shows. “Coffee to go” is an oxymoron. It just doesn’t exist in France. Coffee is meant to be taken seated, preferably with a friend or two, along with a loaf of bread or a sugar or chocolate filled crepe as well. While French women may not gain weight, American women visiting France might. I embraced the French food philosophy for eight days and came back with more “move in my duck” if you know what I mean. Que sara sara (or is it Spanish?)
5) Charm and charisma still work. They are not overrated. From the hotel staff to the Parisian waiters to the Ralph Lauren store clerk: they all met our needs with grace and charm. When an unexpected but magnificent flower arrangement gave me a constant tingle in my throat, the “Polo employee” ordered a glass of water for me. It was delivered on a cloth napkin on top of a silver tray. (When was the last time that happened to you in the United States?) When our orchestra met with the community orchestra for a joint concert, we were all captivated by its Parisian conductor, Sylvan. Young and vibrant, he exuded charm with his humility and gentle demeanor towards us; the hot pink tie against his all-black “uniform” demonstrated once again the magic of charisma.
6) “Hello” means something. The Frenchman refuses to start a conversation without her. Once, when I burst into my explanation that I needed several Eiffel Tower charms for bracelets without the mandatory “Bonjour” opening, the store clerk stopped me mid-sentence, interrupting my joke with “Bonjour, ma’am, How can I help you?” How wonderful to be reminded at every step that today is indeed a good day!
7) “Bonjoie” means even more. Late on the second night of our trip, brimming with energy and excitement after climbing to the top of the Eiffel Tower, I accidentally said “Bonjoie” (jwahr) instead of “Bonsoir” (swahr). Sarah, the perfectly fluid chaperone I directed this misstep at, proclaimed, “Happy joie de vivre to you too!” Laughing as I walked up the escalator to my hotel room, I didn’t realize the extent of my mistake. But the next morning on the bus, everyone greeted me with “Bonjoie.” And so it stayed. It became our password for life in April in Paris. I can’t think of any better.
Our children glowed like sugar-coated jelly beans scattered through the streets of Paris, dotting the top sights and sweetening each and every meal. I was thrilled and honored to have been a part of such a historically significant event for our tiny young youth orchestra. They were goodwill ambassadors for our symphony, our people, and our country. I have never been more proud as a music lover, a parent, and an American. Maybe my experience will shed some light on how you too can celebrate life.