80 is not the new 60; it is 80—period.

Not that it seems to have mattered very much, as I feel great. The new number on the left has been around for a few weeks now, and gradually, I have eased my way back into season-opening form.

On September 1, we had a few friends over to the house for wine and cheese, followed by more wine. Cindy had surprised me the previous evening with some wonderful gifts, including the new computer on which I am writing this essay. Looks much better, doesn’t it?

As I write this, it is a few days before September 1^st. At this time, I have no idea what is being planned for the day the birthday number on the left changes. Sometimes, momentous occasions are best celebrated quietly.

If it were up to me, I would simply watch a Cardinals game, fire up the Big Green Egg, and spend a quiet day at home with Cindy. A special bottle of wine might enhance the festivities, although we usually just have a single glass. However, I suspect that a few friends will stop by, and we shall be ready for them.

In August 1964, I made my first public appearance as a conductor. I had done bits of stick-waving in high school and had led the Marriage of Figaro Overture with the California Youth Symphony, but this was the true beginning of my musical life on the podium.

The place was Aspen, Colorado. I went there as a conducting student under the watchful eye of the Aspen Music Festival’s music director, Walter Susskind. Sixty years ago, this mountain town did not have traffic lights. Boutiques were unheard of, except for those selling skiing equipment. There were only two fine-dining establishments, the Copper Kettle and the Chart House (for steaks). The student orchestra rehearsed in the high school gymnasium.

Three very different weeks ensued during June, representing the traditional, the unconventional, and the educational. All were satisfying and made for a fine start to a not-too-busy summer conducting schedule.

After a month away from the podium, it was time to pick up the baton and strike up the bands, first in Bilbao, Spain. I was not exactly looking forward to this trip, as a scheduling error resulted in only a single conducting engagement in Europe as opposed to the usual two, three, or sometimes eight weeks overseas.