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.

I have spent most of my life looking forward, but various circumstances have forced me to reflect a bit on my past. Interviews, a documentary, and questions from friends, family, and fans remind me of a life that has been filled with joy. Yes, there have been some down times, but those are few and far between. Any recriminations or regrets are long forgotten.

I suppose the question that I most enjoy answering is, “What will you do next?” And the only possible answer is, “Wait and see.”

This past month, I was honored to participate in the TMAF, the Taipei Music Academy and Festival. Founded by Cho-Liang Lin, it brings together talented young musicians to work for two weeks with some of the stars of the orchestral world. They take part in master classes, play chamber music, and at the end, form a spectacular orchestra.

My first experience was an abbreviated one, as COVID had prevented travel to international destinations. Instead, we spent one fantastic week in San Francisco. Last year, the festival returned to Taiwan, and despite hot and humid conditions, I could not imagine a finer collaborative process.

This time around, we once again headed to Taipei to join an incredible group of teachers hailing from major orchestras in New York, Philadelphia, Chicago, Cleveland, Los Angeles, San Francisco, Detroit, St. Louis, and Amsterdam. The rehearsals became a set of interactive sessions, with everyone participating in bringing the young charges along.

And there was food, lots of food—feasts for everyone and hospitality to spare. We engaged in little if no discussion of the political climate in Taiwan or around the world. But I did have the opportunity to speak about the importance of education in the arts, especially in the United States. Most of my colleagues are longtime veterans of the cultural wars with strong feelings as to what we should do to raise awareness of the humanities. Perhaps I will write a position paper about it because from my point of view, unless we get this message across to the younger generations, we might be facing dire consequences with the continued diminution of what the French call belles-lettres.

But I digress.

Given my previous experiences at TMAF, I felt that we could present a challenging program for the young musicians to conquer. Dvořák’s Seventh Symphony, Elgar’s Enigma Variations, and Brahms’s Academic Festival Overture might seem similar in terms of the time when they were written. However, these three works could not be more different, with musical and technical demands to test any orchestra.

The musicians gathered in Taiwan the week before I arrived for intense working sessions with their section mentors. The relationships formed not only last throughout the festival but well past it. Since the quality of musicianship is so high, I have no doubt that the majority of participants will embark on performance careers.

My job was to put everything together and create an orchestra in just six days. The young musicians came from many different backgrounds, as did the faculty, making this a daunting task. The first rehearsal was really a day of getting acquainted. As I was assessing the best way to coalesce the ensemble, they were figuring out how to interpret my words and gestures.

The rehearsal room was loud and somewhat dry, and we had to reposition the players to accommodate the harsh acoustics. Nonetheless, it was already clear that I had a potentially first-rate group on my hands. The principals from major orchestras were very much a part of this rehearsal process, interjecting salient points as we worked our way through the repertoire. We all learned from each other.

The final rehearsal in that room was basically a run-through, just to see how far we had come. Interestingly, we had adjusted to the awkward sonics enough to achieve an excellent sound. I knew we were in good shape for the three concerts ahead.

When there was time off, and there was not a lot, we were treated to feasts organized by some of the festival’s sponsors and patrons. While enjoying incredible delicacies as well as traditional Taiwanese cuisine, I had a chance to catch up with some of the pros whom I have known over the course of my career. Great stories and anecdotes abounded. I am not sure if the current generation of musicians will have comparable tales to tell, as we no longer have the likes of Ormandy, Szell, Heifetz, and other legends of the past among our ranks.

Then there is the Taiwanese massage, which puts Shiatsu to shame in terms of pressure. One can indulge in several varieties. I alternated between the no-oil, full-body style and the foot massage. The latter is supposed to cure ailments, but I still do not know what my third toe has to do with the Islets of Langerhans. Maybe I need to book a cruise there.

We hit the road for performances in Kaohsiung and Taichung. The halls were good, but then again, anything was preferable to the rehearsal studio. All of a sudden, we were able to hear how wonderful the orchestra had become. Everyone was listening to each other, and I was able to minimize my gestures to allow the musicians to express themselves individually when appropriate.

After two long days of travel, rehearsals, and concerts, we returned to Taipei for our final performance. Excitement was in the air in anticipation of a full house. The sound check was a short affair, simply because all we had to do was get used to the different acoustic properties of the concert hall.

At this concert, I was able to introduce a new look for myself. In Taipei, as well as many Asian cities, you can find wonderful tailors who can turn out an entire handmade wardrobe in less than a week. I had become a bit bored with the all-black outfit I had been sporting for the past twenty years or so. Something slightly different was in order, and I think I hit it right. As one of the students said, “For an old guy, you look pretty cool.”

With the now-stylish Leonard on the podium, we continued to play with feverish energy as well as nuanced poetry. The audience roared its approval as we wrapped up the festival. We shed a few tears during the afterparty, but mostly we honored our achievement and celebrated each other.

Having said our farewells, it was time to return home. Cindy had taken some marvelous photos of Taipei’s Botanical Garden as well as the musicians, which she shared with the participants and staff. Please scroll down to take a look.

One can only hope that this project continues to grow and flourish. It is so meaningful for not only the young musicians but also the seniors. We get to a point at which giving back becomes our mission. Although we continue to grow as artists and individuals, teaching what we have learned over all these years takes center stage. I realize this sounds like a cliché, but it is a true one, amplified when we are actually passing along our experiences to younger generations.

As the big 80^th birthday approaches, I am reminded of an old joke that my brother used to tell, and perhaps it sums up life as we move to the golden years.

Doctor: “What seems to be the problem?”

Elderly man: “I can’t pee.”

Doctor: “How old are you?”

Elderly man: “Ninety-four.”

Doctor: “You’ve peed enough.”

This soon-to-be venerable conductor will see you next month.

—Leonard

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