My daughters and I went to the symphony last Friday. This was a treat. Not the symphony part, the daughters part because I usually go by myself. I have no shame or equivocation, however, announcing that I like to be alone. Maddafack, I reckon the times I have felt most lonely was in a roomful of people. I rarely feel lonely when I am alone though. I can always have an interesting conversation with myself, I rarely disagree with me, and I always laugh at my jokes. I have trained my hostesses to avoid saying the word “just” when a single diner chooses to dine at Cruisers Grill, as in “Just one?!?”. The inference is palpable though the implication benign; sometimes it’s even meant as sympathy…like when the hostess tilts her head just a tad and says “just one?” attempting empathy, but spilling pity. I have seen many a face drop when confronted with this greeting as if they’re saying “what loser…you couldn’t find anyone to eat with you”. There are those of who prefer to dine alone or as I like to say, “A PARTY of one!”.
The symphony is a great place for me to go alone at this point in my life because given the demo, I feel like a young, dashing, bachelor; it’s one of the only places I can go where I know I won’t be the oldest guy there. The solitude and the opportunity to collect my thought soothes me. I can get lost in the music or concentrate on the sounds emitting from each performer’s instrument, watching the music being made. Sometimes I try and remember all of the Best Picture Winners from the 70’s or the the Kentucky Derby Winners from the 80’s or come up with some dish to create or some other trivial pursuit. It’s meditation for me. I have improved my ability to sit quietly for 10 minutes, which is not small feat for this poster boy for ADHD but there are many ways for me to quiet my mind; performing arts is one of them.
I fell in love with symphony music when I was living in Chicago. My girlfriend at the time invited me to go. I had moved to Chicago to begin my law career which lasted exactly 6 months. I was the worst lawyer. Ever. Like in the history of Lawyerdom. I would forget a zero on closing documents and I would misspell the client's name. The blue chip Chicago firm that hired me told me at my 6-month review that I had “too much fun” and did not “act like a lawyer” and that it wasn’t going to work out. What a bunch of pompous, arrogant, douchebags. I knew I needed to be back in the kitchen. It was an expensive lesson but I figured I would rather work with the uneducated assholes in the trenches than the educated assholes in the glass tower…the egos were as big but it was more fun, more forgiving and tons more camaraderie.
We went with her grandparents. Her grandfather had been an Illinois Supreme Court Justice and was still a muckety-muck; not as muckety as he was 20 years prior but he still had a lot of mucks. He was a charming man with a beautiful wife, a full head of silver hair, and a storied career.; a legend in many circles. We had eaten dinner at a new restaurant in Chicago called Prairie in the South Loop. The interior was based on one of Chicago’s favorite sons, Frank Lloyd Wright and his prairie style; the cuisine was American classic. I am pretty sure I had Rabbit with a Mulberry Relish. My girlfriend had the chicken and her grandparents each got Coho Salmon fresh from Lake Michigan. But I might be confused, it was like 30 years ago. I am kind of like Rainman with food though; I remember the first time I ate shrimp, sushi, ice-cream, Chick-Fil-A, lamb, Sweedish meatballs, tacos, chicken-wings, a malt, Coca-Cola, Dr. Pepper, A & W Root Beer and Cheerwine; where I was, who I was with, and what made the experience memorable. I was destined to be in the food business from an early age.
After we finished with supper, we walked to Chicago Symphony Hall which is across the street from The Art Institute on South Michigan Avenue.
It was a brisk fall evening, already darkened sort of misty fog coming off Lake Michigan.
Chicago is on the eastern edge of central time zone, so when we set the clocks back at the conclusion of daylight savings time, it at around 4.00PM. The bad news is it can be pretty depressing; the good news is I found mischief earlier and had more time to exact more damage There was always a smell to Fall in Chicago. I can’t describe it but depending on the neighborhood, sweaters reeking of mothballs recently released from their summer cocoon, fires being coaxed to life by frustrated Eagle Scouts, unrelenting stench of the stockyards, and the omnipresent bus fumes, coalesced in a cornucopia of the odiferous equivalent of mystery meat.
The auditorium is stunning and literally jaw dropping. The focal point is the recessed apse where the symphony sits; 3 levels of loges flush with the surrounding 180 degrees. The walls smack of Neo-gothic yet are tempered by the sensibility of the emerging Art Deco period.
And man was it bright…like you almost need sunglasses bright. I remember being gobsmacked by the lighting. The majority of the concerts I had attended theretofore were Grateful Dead and I was accustomed to dimmed lights during the performance. Though the reasons for dimming lights were never exactly articulated, I suspect providing cover of darkness eased the imbibation of nefarious chemicals, drinks, certain types of vapor, and specific strands of fungus. But I could be wrong.
I cannot remember what they played, not a clue. After the strings had warmed up, followed by the horns, the conductor sauntered onto the stage. It was like he was walking on springs, he could not wait to get to the podium and showed the same eagerness and anticipation of a child the night before their birthday. Our seats were in the middle just after the second break and even from there, I could see the sparkle in his eye. I recall thinking “How did Homer Simpson’s boss, Mr. Burns, get this this gig?” Little did I know it was Georg Solti, make that SIR Georg Solti, one of the best orchestra conductors ever to conduct an orchestra, as opposed to other conductors, like water.
I sat still, or as still as I could-which is called fidgeting. Sir Georg raised his baton bringing the orchestra to its figurative feet, and suddenly his baton came down like a guillotine and the music swelled. Though I had been to tons of shows and heard lots of bands, this was the first time I had seen, like really seen life music. Sir Solti's poetic command of the musicians, his precise yet fluid movements, the dance of unspoken cues between Sir Georg and the musicians was too much for me take. I was touched in a way that defies description but it was if someone reached into my soul, found the sweet spot, and used one the best products Adam and Eve offers. The wave of emotion increased the more I listened and the more I listened the faster the emotions raced. Tears began to stream down my cheek and the grandmother noticed. I could feel the weight of her stare and as I looked to meet her gaze, she gently put my hand in hers and gave it a slight squeeze. Not a word was spoke but the message resonated louder than the music.
Since that Autumnal introduction, I have been to countless symphonies and operas. I tried to persuade my children to go when they were younger but their ears were too immature and their attention spans too brief. While soaking in the sublime Brahm's Pastoral Symphony one Saturday evening a few weeks ago, I noticed the upcoming show was Broadway Hits. I was close to certain that I could get my girls to agree to go and agree they did.
We took our seats and the guest conductor was introduced. He shared with the audience that this was his first performance in over two years. It felt like deja vu again because the previous week's guest conductor's shared the exact same sentiment, almost to the word. Both men fought tears as they described how much they missed, pined actually, performing in front of a live audience. These are men and women who thrive off the energy of a live audience. They have devoted their lives to sharing their art, tapping our emotions. and plucking our deepest primal spirit from the shadows of fear. Cooking is oftentimes a solo endeavor and while seeing an idea morph into a a beautifully plated dish is indeed gratifying. The real adrenalin rush though is when I get to see the approval, the slight head bob of my guests and hear the oo's and ah's. For me, it's the constant micro-connections I get to make everyday that is the real motivation. At that moment, it occurred to me how lucky I am to have been allowed to practice my art during the pandemic.
There are few things that get my juices running more than a busy shift in my restaurant. On our busiest days, we are honored to feed over 800 people. It never gets old to stand against the back wall of my store, and listen to the din of the conversation of my guests peppered with the occasional laugh; my chest swells with gratitude and I am honored that I get to do this. I get to manufacture smiles, I get to comfort those in mourning, I get to provide young men and women with their first jobs, I get to provide my employees with a fair wage for a fair day's work, I get to see three and sometimes four generations creating memories at a table and I am deeply moved, deeply touched, and deeply honored. If I were denied this opportunity for two years, or even 6 months, I would fear the hole of depression that would swallow me, and it would be tantamount to losing a limb; only the pain would not the phantom type of which amputees speak, it would be the tangible type. I realize how lucky I am that my career is indeed my passion, my raison de etre and the reason I wake up in the morning. I am in the business of creating memories and manufacturing smiles and there is nothing that is more fulfilling.
Find what moves you and dive in head first, not despite the pandemic but because of the pandemic. Life is fleeting and the pandemic will change how we live our lives for generations. The flip side is that we have had time; time to think, reconsider and understand what is really important to us. Appreciate those who have been sidelined; the financial struggles are real but the tragedy is the inability to connect. And definitely go to your local symphony
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