gerisullivan | Well, that worked splendidly

The big question mark related to Gavi's appearance at Carnegie Hall was whether or not I'd have a chance to say hi and give her a quick hug or not. It was all very fine watching her through the little binoculars that

galacticvoyeur gave me some years ago, but in-person time is always a real treat for us, and we each hoped to grab a moment. We just didn't know how.

Gavi's group performed the first piece. I wasn't even looking as the 225+ members of the chorus started filing onto the stage, so didn't notice she was at the front of the line until she was already in place in the very back right corner (aka stage left) of the group. She was first on, and the very last one off.

In between? Yes, the acoustics at Carnegie Hall are both delightful and amazing. Such a comfort to the ears.

I used to think I didn't hear all that well, that I didn't differentiate sounds, and that most anything that was competent sound was fine to my ears. Okay, the brick wall at The Fine Line was an abomination -- the sound was so bad, I wouldn't return. But that was the exception. Hell, I could get off on the music at First Avenue, and it's a former bus station.

Then I went out to buy good speakers for my attic office at Toad Hall. I thought any pair of good speakers would do, only to discover I only wanted the ones that made the music sound like it was live, right there. I bought the speakers that made me forget I was listening to speakers.

So. Anyway. I loved listening. Listening and watching.

Then came the best part.

I thought it rude that the audience didn't wait for the stage to clear before rising for the intermission, but given how long that took, well, okay, I guess I get it. And it played right into my desire to see Gavi. I walked the 19 rows toward the stage, stopping 5 or 6 rows back and being oh, so pleased when a huge smile replaced the serious, somber expression she'd maintained throughout the performance. Yep. She'd spotted me. I stood there for a few moments while we beamed at each other, then walked up to the edge of the stage to be as close as possible when she walked off.

While I was doing this,

benyalow did what he does so extraordinarily well: he observed, analyzed, and showed me where she'd be passing once she was off-stage. Forget this 15-feet away business, he knew where we could share that hug and actually say hello.

Sure enough. Hugs, excitement, and all good things. Gavi was following the rest of the chorus up to the very top of the nosebleed section, the tip-top of the center balcony. I haven't found an online count of how many stairs we climbed, but I was amused by the reviewer who wrote the following: "After going up the stairs in what it seemed an eternity, with some people having to make a stop to catch their breath, the Dress Circle has small columns that run to the top balcony."

Why the amusement? Because the balcony is above the Dress Circle level. Up, turn, up, turn, and up again. Or so it seemed, by that time, I'd long since lost count of even the turnings. I wish I'd counted the steps, or that my Google-Fu would turn up the total. we climbed every one. It was totally worth it.

Then it was back down, down, down, and down some more until I was finally back at the parquet level just in time for the start of the second piece. This one featured six choruses, three from high schools in Louisiana, Mississippi, and New York, one college choir from Florida, and two adult groups, one from Alabama, the other from New Jersey. Instead of a sea of youthful faces, there were white-haired, bearded gents among the teen-aged boys.

Gavi told me they'd be leaving via the stage door after the show. Thanks to my recently-gained familiarity with the stairs, I scoped out a place where I thought we'd spot her as she was leaving, and sure enough, that worked. The crowd was moving slowly; Gavi and I had no intention of complaining about that! We talked non-stop as she filled me in on New York adventures and her reactions to being on stage. Ben took a few pictures of Gavi and me just outside the stage door. My card reader is at home; I'll post them in a day or two.

One of the trip chaperones spotted Gavi amidst the hundreds of kids getting on buses and pointed her toward bus D or E. I walked with her the rest of the way there, eager for every second available while not wanting to slow her down any more. A final hug and wave goodbye...and a promise to tell

carnyjack that she'd worn the barrette he gave her for her 16th birthday on stage at Carnegie Hall. I called Susan as Ben and I drove away; she told me Gavi had planned to wear it if it was allowed -- the rules for her choir forbade necklaces and all hand jewelry. But the barrette was okay, and she wore it with pleasure and pride.

The students were off for a late night cruise lasting until 1 am. I was startled when Gavi first mentioned it, but upon reflection, it strikes me as utterly brilliant. Those kids were going to be wired for hours. Put 'em on a boat, show 'em the lights of New York, give them space and time to savor the experience and mellow out before dropping them back at their hotel.

I hoped we'd have a minute or two, maybe three or five. I didn't keep track, but we ended up with most of the intermission and a good 10-15 minutes after. Each and every one was a total gift, a gift we gave each other.

Greg Brown said it best at the end of his song, "If I Had Known":

"And, oh, if I had known--
I'd do it all over again
Some things just get better and better
and better than they've already been"

That. Exactly that.