Coming Full Circle

As a general rule, I really like the concept of "things coming full circle," whether it be in small form (e.g., a conversation) or on a much greater scale (i.e., the subject of this post).

That being said, last night signaled the completion of a circle I've been unknowingly circumnavigating for nearly 15 years. A circle which was set off by one person, similarly unaware of her involvement.

So who provided this impetus?

My elementary school orchestra teacher, Jill Rausch.

It's at this point that I should give a little bit of background on Taylor Morris, the little boy. When I started at Alma Elementary School, I didn't really have any activity to which I subscribed wholeheartedly. I never participated in sports, or karate, or any number of those types of activities; I just wasn't interested.

For that matter, I had also never shown any additional interest in music other than sing-a-long VHS tapes and dancing like a crazy child to my parents' music. [Neither of my parents, to my knowledge, discussed playing music with me (though both played instruments through junior high), and my older brother, at that point, was primarily interested in basketball and soccer.]

One day, near the end of 3rd grade, all the 3rd graders attended a short assembly in the multi-purpose room during which Ms. Rausch showed us violins, violas, cellos and basses, and informed us about the opportunity to participate in orchestra starting in 4th grade. That evening I went home to my parents and shared my excitement with them about the opportunity to play in orchestra. It just seemed so fun.

That summer, my mom took me to The Practice Pad, a small music store in Mesa, to go rent a cello. That's right, a cello. But when we got there, we discovered, much to my chagrin, that the store was out of cellos. So, some unassuming music store clerk pulled a trick I'm sure so many have pulled before: "Well, we're out of cellos right now...but hey, you could always take home this shiny, new violin!"

I took the violin, both eagerly and begrudgingly, with the futile hope that maybe a cello would somehow appear at the store in the next few days and I could trade back for it.

The rest, as "they" so often say, is history.

I should interject at this point to share some perspective on just how odd my "story" continues to appear as I get older. I have no idea, statistically, how the majority of professional musicians were first exposed to music. But, I can't think of any other professional musicians I personally know off-hand who started in their elementary school program without any prior exposure or influence (e.g., parents, older siblings, or friends).

In many ways, I feel like I, through many strokes of luck and good fortune, beat the system. There's often such a negative message, especially in the classical world, that you have to have started playing an instrument at an incredibly young age (i.e., 3 or 4) to be the best and find success, because so many of the best and successful did and will continue to do.

There is much truth to this idea: many of the best and most successful did start when they were young. However, this relationship between age and success is merely a correlation. In statistical terms, one does not cause the other. I know of incredibly talented youth who have burned out, and also of incredible talents who started playing as late as high school. And though I'm far from being the best violinist my age, I've somehow ended up finding success and happiness as a musician.

What I'm very much coming to discover is that the most important things any artist can have are passion and enthusiasm for the art he or she practices, performs, and pursues.

In many instances, this is usually instilled from the influence and guidance of positive, encouraging music educators.

So now we come--full circle--back to Jill Rausch.

It turned out that she was an honest saleswoman: her pitch to us 3rd graders about how fun orchestra was ended up being true. Ms. Rausch was exciting, funny, inspiring, enthusiastic, and magnetic. She created an orchestra environment to which my friends and I were excited to return week after week. And perhaps most importantly, it was clear that Ms. Rausch loved teaching music; we, in turn, loved learning music.

Ms. Rausch is proof that music educators can not only provide an outlet for creativity at a young age, but also change the directory and meaning of a life through one, seemingly insignificant, afternoon assembly.

Thank you, Ms. Rausch, for hooking me on music--it's been greater than you ever could have promised!

Northeast to Southwest

It seems as though we've pretty much been traveling non-stop since getting back on tour two weeks ago yesterday: Pennsylvania, New York, Delaware, through Ohio en route to Oklahoma and Kansas, and now Colorado.

However, I love being back on the road and touring so heavily!

And in perhaps the most fortuitous of travel phenomena, I unexpectedly got to spend a whole afternoon in Cleveland hanging out with Ryan, one of my best friends from home and my roommate for 3 years while at ASU. [Oddly enough, I got to spend 45 minutes with Ryan at the Starbucks under his apartment when we were passing through Cleveland last fall, as well.] This time, though, we actually got to spend time catching up in person, and he even gave me a tour of the Cleveland Institute of Music, where he currently attends graduate school:

In front of CIM.

This past weekend we found ourselves performing in beautiful Aspen, Colorado. I'd never been up into the Rocky Mountains before, so it was wonderful seeing snow-covered Aspen, even for just a day.

We arrived a few hours before soundcheck and took the opportunity to explore the area immediately surrounding the Wheeler Opera House, where we performed that night.

Annette and me in front of the famous bear sculpture, made of nails.

Boden's Butter, the coolest cafe/bakery/cheese/wine store...in the world.
Check it out the next time you're in Aspen.

An unexpected challenge of the Aspen show was performing at elevation. Fortunately, the theatre owners had the foresight to provide oxygen tanks for us backstage. By the end of the first three tunes (which are currently some of the more aerobic ones), I found myself slightly light-headed, and hit the oxygen tank frequently for the rest of the show, though mostly as a prophylactic measure to insure I wouldn't find myself passing out on stage.

A photo of Natalie MacMaster in the green room.

The snow storms had finally passed by the time we drove back down to Denver yesterday afternoon, which meant that we actually got to see the Rocky Mountains. Here are some pictures I snapped from riding shotgun.

Performance in Thornton, Colorado, tonight!

A quick snapshot of my break.

I try my hardest to start packing early. I mean, that's everyone's intention before leaving on a trip, right?

Yeah, that didn't work out so much on my end last night. After 45 minutes of sleep, I woke up at 4:00 a.m. for a shower and the final bits of packing (now-fully-charged electronics and toiletries) and headed to the airport for a 6:10 a.m. flight. I had the middle seat in an exit row on the 5 hour flight to JFK. Not the best option for sleeping, but at least the exit row has plenty of leg room!

This past week's "break" was pretty great. I say break in quotes, though, because I'm finding myself more sleep deprived on this end of it than I was when I got home a week ago! Oh well. When you've only got a handful of days home before 4 months of tour, there's quite a bit to get done! Friends, family, food, errands, taxes (which I'm still finishing...whoops), performances (1 recital, 2 musicals, and a Cirque show), educational outreach, and a road trip to Nevada for a half-marathon by the Hoover Dam. And the craziest part? I didn't even get to everything and everyone on my list! Fortunately, the break in July should be longer.

Here are some pictures from my road trip to Nevada to run a half-marathon with my awesome friend Kate.

Ready to roll!

Hoover Dam at night.

The Lake Mead Recreational Area, where we ran our races.

After the races, with Lake Mead in the background.

The beautiful desert sunset as we drove into Las Vegas.

Going to see Cirque du Soleil's "O" at the Bellagio.

At Hoover Dam early the next morning.

Kate, living on the edge, flaunts the rules.

Some neat rock formations along the highway headed back down to Mesa.

I'll post some pictures from visiting Highland High School (where Barrage played in October) when I get my hands on them.

The End of Another Day, The End of Another Tour

It's about 6:30 PM, and I'm pretty sure I'm in CST. I'm on a small plane from Birmingham to Denver, where I have short layover before my flight back to Phoenix later tonight.

It's quite picturesque outside my tiny porthole to the world. Our dusk is stretching in length as we hurdle at 500 mph toward the setting sun. My cell phone doesn't have a camera to write home about, but here are images I just snapped:

Having been on the road since Christmas Day, I'm quite excited to get home, even if it's only for a short week. The next chunk of tour, which will take us into July (at the earliest), will include stops in states I've yet to visit, a short jaunt in Central America, an entire month in China, and the 2nd year of the Barrage Boot Camp for high school strings in Illinois.

Anyway, I thought I'd take this time while I'm captive on the plane to write up a post about my birthday celebrations that occurred just about a week ago.

Basically, this post is an ode (and a thankful anecdote) to my incredible parents, who definitely outdid themselves in their attempts to celebrate my birthday with me on the road.

It all started the Friday night I performed in Houston (Feb. 26th). We were enjoying dinner in the cafeteria of the high school at which we were performing when one of the orchestra teachers got up on a table to address the 200 orchestra students also eating in the room. I initially made nothing of his speech, as it's common for teachers to address their students in front of us. I tuned in, however, when I heard him say, "...and one of the player's parents contacted me to let me know about his upcoming birthday. So, Taylor, would you please stand up so we can sing to you?"

As I awkwardly stood up, a room full of 200 students began to sing happy birthday, a mom was filming the whole thing on her camera, and another student delivered me a giant birthday card that many students had signed. It was pretty awesome, to say the least. The goodwill continued afterward, as well, when it seemed as though nearly every other person in the autograph line gave me birthday wishes!

The following morning (Feb. 27th) was the morning of the Rodeo Run 10K in Houston. After the race, Jason had scheduled a players' meeting to discuss various job-related happenings which he had broadcast with an undertone of frustration, leading us to believe that he had received bad news from a manager or the union or something along those lines. Pretty much nobody wanted to deal with it on our day off, and we all publicly lamented it the days and hours before it's arrival that afternoon.

You can imagine my surprise, then, when I walked into the meeting room at the La Quinta to discover that we were having a mini-birthday celebration catered by Einstein's Bagel Bros! My mom had contacted a nearby Einstein's and convinced them to make a delivery (something that Einstein's doesn't do). The employees even picked up a birthday card and signed it!

Definitely much better than a meeting. Props to the whole band for keeping up the ruse! Truly impressive. (Or, perhaps I should be more concerned that the rest of the band could lie so easily to my face!)

A quick update of dusk, 30 minutes later:

On the day of my actual birthday (Feb. 28th), I didn't expect anything more to happen from my parents. My mom's the type of gift-giver who excels at the sly art of surprise, always throwing off the recipient in some way, shape, or form. Therefore, it'd be much too predictable to receive anything on my actual birthday.

After Jason had the audience in Wichita Falls, TX, sing me happy birthday during the show (a Barrage birthday tradition), we all headed down to the basement of the theatre building for a private donor reception the theatre manager was holding. A private donor reception which included snacks and drinks, as well as a chocolate birthday cake for me!

In talking to my mom on March 1st, the day after my birthday, she relayed a conversation in which my dad asked her how she could possibly out-do herself next year. Her response? "I just won't do anything. That'll be the surprise: no birthday surprises!" Ha!

Thanks, Mom & Dad, for how awesome you two are. I feel so unbelievably fortunate to have parents so eager to celebrate with me though I wasn't home.

And with that, ladies and gents, I'll leave you with dusk as it is now, 50 minutes after the first picture: Back on the road in a week.

On a whim.

With 30 minutes to kill before today's call time, I felt the impulse to come update my blog. Normally, I'll write up a post, edit it, and spend a day or two thinking about it before I finally post it, just to make sure it's exactly the way that I want it (sometimes perfectionism is so inhibiting!). But even though I still need to post about last week's birthday happenings, that's just going to have to wait until another day.

Yesterday was a remarkable day on the road, notable for the weird series of occurrences it presented.

Firstly, I went on a really long run in the morning on a gorgeous trail here in Longview, TX, near our hotel. It was refreshing to run on a paved path, surrounded by incredibly tall pine trees and flocks of various birds I'm not used to seeing in Arizona. I've been struggling with some leg issues and minor injuries the past week, so I'd also been very much feeling the urge to get out and exercise. [Plus, I'm running a half marathon in 9 days, which means I'm feeling the pressure to squeeze in a few more long runs before I race!]

After my long run, though, I was quite exhausted. Never before had I run 9 miles on a show day, so the rest of the afternoon proved to be an experiment in stamina. Would I make it through the show? Would I be able to jump? Would I keel over in exhaustion during some strenuous number? Only time would tell.

Just prior to last night's show, I wasn't really in the mood to get out and perform. I was tired, exhausted, and just wanting to be home. (For what it's worth, I've had the intense desire to be home for about a week now--I only have to keep going till late Sunday night!)

As the show started, I began feeling a little bit more energy and enthusiasm. By the time I nailed my Ghost Riders solo (which is among my more stressful solos just because it's so unbelievably fast), I was pretty much feeling on top of the world. Out of seemingly nowhere, I was able to conjure both energy and an intensity in focus that I hadn't felt for quite some time. Combine those things with a good audience and I actually thought to myself during the show, "THIS IS WHY I LOVE BARRAGE."

Something about last night's show just really clicked for me. I have no idea how other players felt (we usually all have drastically differing opinions about the show when we discuss it afterward), but for me, it was everything I strive toward.

Then, after the show last night, it came up in discussion that tonight's show is in Murphy, TX, where we performed in November 2008. That performance in Murphy, TX, still ranks in the top few greatest days I've ever had on tour. And, at that point, I even referred to it as "The most wonderful day ever" in an e-mail I sent to my former teacher after the show.

Though I have no idea if the specific people who made it so wonderful last time will be there tonight, all that matters is that they made it so wonderful for me once before.

Funny how life reminds you how good it can be when you don't expect it.

Home on Sunday.

Studio Mates & Running Buddies

This past week-and-a-half has been pretty wonderful because I've had the opportunity to visit with three different violinist/violist friends from ASU, two of whom are currently in grad school and one of whom plays in a professional orchestra.

Up first was Eliza, in Columbia, SC, who did her master's with Dr. McLin while I was at ASU and graduated with me in 2008. Because her job as Principal Second Violin of the Augusta Symphony is so different from mine, it was really neat hearing about what life has been like for her on the other side of the violin job spectrum. That being said, however, it seemed as though we still have had many similar experiences working as a professional in the music industry. It's refreshing to know that various joys and frustrations of being a working musician apply across the board!

In Houston, my friends Gina (who entered Dr. McLin's studio with me as a freshman) and Padua (a violist with whom I played in a string quartet my senior year) got to come see an absurdly crazy educational program in Houston. By absurdly crazy I mean there were 200 orchestra students playing with us! Definitely one of the loudest audiences I've heard to date.

After the show, Gina was telling me a story involving her running around the Rice University campus (which is a popular 3-mile run in Houston). I then told her that I was going to be running the Houston Rodeo Run 10K the following morning and found out, much to my surprise, that she was going to be running it with friends as well! (Neither Gina nor I were aware that the other ran, so it was pretty exciting to realize this.)

The next morning, Annette, Kiana, and myself arrived in downtown Houston for the race at about 7:45. At the time there was practically nobody there, so we took the opportunity to get a quick picture by the starting line:

We're all dressed strangely because it was very, very cold. Kiana's thick Michigan blood, however, somehow allowed her to wear shorts.

Pretty soon, people started to show up in droves. Because the weather was cold, and because the tall downtown buildings were hogging all of the sun, everyone was crowded into a relatively small area with just a bit of sunlight to stay warm. Before we knew it, 12,500+ of our closest Houstonian friends had joined us in preparation for the race.

When Gina arrived we tried to talk to each other on the phone but pretty much couldn't hear or find each other. Somehow, though, I ended up spotting her as I took my place way behind the starting line.

If you've never run a race of 12,500+ people before, here's a demonstrative example of just how many people that is: after the gun fired, we stood waiting and ended up crossing the starting line about 5 minutes after the race had officially started. That's a ridiculous amount of people packed onto a street! However, it's really fun to run on streets lined with giant downtown buildings dwarfing you and all the other participants, like ants running from an impending flood in a field of grass. Plus, since this is the biggest race in Houston, it was incredibly motivating being cheered on by the many groups of spectators.

One of the best parts of any organized race is the after-party, where you can find all sorts of awesome free stuff! I was able to pick up a bagel, an incredibly large banana, a handful of bite-sized candy bars, and two awesome granola bars. Annette and Kiana also got really nice hats that wick away sweat, and Annette picked up a fold-able frisbee.

Combining fitness with friends, I'm coming to discover, is definitely one of life's simpler pleasures.