11:18 a.m. - Sunday, Dec. 13, 2009
Let all mortal flesh keep silence . . .
I closed my eyes when the brass began to play. I was sitting on a wedge right behind the tuba . . .jammed into place between singers and chairs and instruments. I love the trumpets. I love the french horn. I love the trombone. I love the dim flicker of candles reflecting off the golden brass . . .And the surprising warm, deep, rich, and penetrating sound they produce. I could feel the vibrations through the floor, through the wedge I was sitting on. After tonight, I will probably never be that close again. It's bittersweet.
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