Laura and Itzhak

 

It’s been quite a weekend.  Yesterday at 2:00 PM I attended a performance of The Glass Menagerie by Tennessee Williams at the Booth Theater in New York City.  Today at 2:00 PM I arrived, front row center, to experience a concert by Itzhak Perlman at the Walt Disney Concert Hall in downtown Los Angeles.

Yesterday the painfully shy Laura made her startling yet entirely fitting entrance through the sofa at the back of The Glass Menagerie set.  Today the gregarious Itzhak moved on stage from the right wing, performing a double take to be sure the concert master handed him the proper violin – Stradivari or Guarneri.  He plays both.

What is the thread which connects these two appearances in distant cities?  Simply put, it is Laura and Itzhak’s disability.

In Tennessee William’s script we learn that Laura suffered from a childhood disease.  As a result she wore leg braces in high school and feared to attend class.  When she did, Laura would clump up the aisle to the back of the room, drowning in the real or imaginary silent ridicule of her classmates.

On Wikipedia we learn that Itzhak contracted polio at age four, made a good recovery, and walks with the assistance of crutches.  Today he wore a brace on each leg and needed to manhandle two crutches, grimacing at each step, when taking his place on stage.

Today, front row center, appreciating Itzhak’s charm, I truly enjoyed a concert of classical music.  My left hand almost cramped as Itzhak fast-fingered his violin.  After the solo he became my grey haired father as he played another, more complex instrument, the orchestra, with multiple instruments, sounds, and personalities.  His job was to direct and encourage each musician to have fun, to be at his or her best.

The concert master was an intense young man who seemed two days away from his weekly haircut.  An older musician toward the back of the first violins seemed closer to retirement than to his next trim.

Kojak bald, the first cello played with a smile and determination.  The cellist back of him stared into space, and clearly wanted to leave before the final crescendo.  Itzhak blended them all into a virtuoso company.

At intermission, his back to the audience, Itzhak struggled to descend from the conductor’s podium.  The first viola player, a slight woman with nondescript blonde hair, sensed he might fall and moved to help.  Itshak sharply waved her away.  The audience laughed.  For a moment she seemed like Laura, caught doing something horribly wrong in public.  She would have vanished if she knew how.

Each of us is a victim of our own circumstance and, more importantly, our own self-image.  We can disappear, we can prevail.  As Tennessee Williams put it, we may be disappointed but we do not have to be discouraged.

At the end of The Glass Menagerie yesterday Laura disappeared back into the sofa from which she had emerged, locked in the memory of high school leg braces which embraced her still.  At the end of the concert today Itzhak clumped off stage, as he had clumped on, tongue hanging out of his mouth like Michael Jordan, concentrating on the mere act of walking.

Each of us is the concert master, the old man, the rebuffed viola player, a cellist intense, or with unfocused mind. Each of us both fearful and daring, each of us young and old, all at the same time.

And we have a choice – to remain stage furniture like Laura Wingfield, or to command stage center like Itzhak Perlman.

Alan

 

Comments ( 9 )

  1. Daniel Katzen
    Alan: Your description and "cross-polination" of Laura and Itzhak was very evocative. I've seen him many times look like he might slip, and his obstinate refusal for help is always important to him. And what a player, even after a 50+-year career! Thanks for sending this. Danny
    • Alan C. Fox
      Thanks for the comment, Daniel. Best, Alan.
  2. Valerie Ducos
    Wow! Very insightful. Thank you.
    • Alan C. Fox
      Thanks, Valerie. I appreciate the comment. Take care. -Alan
  3. Risa Potters
    I enjoyed reading this insighful blog. I have a patient who has the use of only her left arm from having had polio as a child. When we do yoga together, I use only my left arm so that I can understand how she is able to maneuver in the poses with just one arm. Then, I realize how much easier (and balanced) it is to have the use of all your limbs, especially in poses like Downward Facing Dog. Try that with one arm, and you'll see what I mean. Still, she is accomplished and world traveled, and doesn't consider this a disability.
    • Alan C. Fox
      Risa- It's amazing what determination and perseverance can do when a challenge arises. Thanks, Alan.
  4. Gloria Calhoun
    I love your blog...very powerful. I will have the opportunity to hear Itzhak Perlman when he plays with our symphony in January. I will have so much more insight with his performance after ready this blog. With love...Gloria
    • Alan C. Fox
      Gloria- You are definitely in for a treat. Love, Alan.
  5. Nadine
    Exquisite observations from a quiet perspective, Alan. Perhaps these states of being you observed, were parts of life where we are unaware of observation, and our limitations and struggles show in sharp contrast to our performances when we're on.

Leave a reply

Your email address will not be published.

You may use these HTML tags and attributes:

<a href="" title=""> <abbr title=""> <acronym title=""> <b> <blockquote cite=""> <cite> <code> <del datetime=""> <em> <i> <q cite=""> <strike> <strong>

Yes, I would like to receive emails from Alan C. Fox. Sign me up!


By submitting this form, you are consenting to receive marketing emails from: . You can revoke your consent to receive emails at any time by using the SafeUnsubscribe® link, found at the bottom of every email. Emails are serviced by Constant Contact