The Hollywood Bowl is 100 years old.  I’m 82, and the concert I attended at the Bowl last week featured Diana Ross, who is 78.  I felt right at home.

My father was a professional French horn player. I remember attending concerts at the Bowl in the mid 1940’s when he played with the Los Angeles Philharmonic.

Diana Ross was the lead singer of the Supremes in the 60’s. At the pinnacle of their success, Berry Gordy, the president of Motown, renamed the group, “Diana Ross and the Supremes.” In 1970, Diana left the group to start her solo career, and they went back to being called The Supremes. At the Hollywood Bowl, Diana was supreme all by herself.  I enjoyed the concert.

Of particular interest to me were the technical aspects of the performance. Usually, a performance of that caliber is technically seamless, but that night there were glitches.

At one point Diana asked to have the stage lights turned down.  Nothing happened.  That was the canary in the coal mine.

Half an hour into the show it was apparent that Diana was having trouble hearing the band.  As with many onstage performers she was relying on earbuds, or some other kind of hearing device. She mentioned she was having a problem twice. But no one appeared on stage to help her out.  She seemed to be able to synchronize her singing with the band just fine but it was clear to me from her demeaner that she was not happy.

The problem with having to perform for the public at that level was aptly summarized by the Russian composer and pianist Sergei Rachmaninoff, who said, “If I don’t practice for one day, I know it.  If I don’t practice for two days, my students know it.  If I don’t practice for three days, everyone knows it.”  He didn’t even mention “technical difficulties.”

Despite the technical difficulties, however, Diana remained entirely professional.  But at the end of the concert, in the middle of a song, she left the stage. The song continued, and we heard her singing, but she never returned.  She didn’t even take a bow.  When the song ended, the lights came up.  That was strange.

Well, Diana, at least you solved one technical difficulty.  You live nearby, so you probably arrived home before I even drove my car out of the parking lot.

Alan

This blog was going to be on a different topic.  But as the title might suggest, the original idea is no longer around. Let me explain…

Last night before I fell asleep, I thought of blending two creative ideas that wouldn’t normally go together.  I knew it would be a great subject to write about for the blog that I was planning to work on first thing in the morning.  You’ll have to take my word on this.  I know that a good idea can vanish within thirty seconds, so I grabbed my iPhone to make a note.  Alas…

Queen Elizabeth, as played by Judi Dench in the movie “Shakespeare in Love,” must walk across a muddy road.  The courtiers wait for her to begin crossing, then realize they are supposed to cover the mud with their coats.  But the Queen has already stepped into the mud.

“Too late, too late,” she says as they scramble around her.

Her words echoed in my mind (she won the Academy Award for her performance) as I wrote “BLOG IDEA,” on my iPhone. Because that was as far as I got.  The idea had already vanished.  It must have been a really good idea, because the better they are the more quickly they seem to disappear.

So here I am, attempting to salvage what would have been an amazing blog by sharing with you the short, sad story of its loss.

I have always needed to write down ideas immediately.  Before my iPhone was a constant companion, I carried a small pad of paper and a pen in my shirt pocket so that I could immediately jot down any idea or poem that came to mind.

Perhaps I should have called this blog “Into the Mist,” or something more literary.  But I’m still pissed at myself, so I’ll go with my first thought.  The poet Allen Ginsberg coined the phrase, “First thought, best thought,” to describe a way of writing that allows one to be spontaneous and unfiltered.  I don’t know if I agree with that, but I do know it doesn’t always apply.  I’ve had a lot of thoughts which are, well, better off filtered.

So, I’m here to lick my literary wound, and distract you with the story of what might have been.

Maybe you’ve heard of others doing something like this.  Perhaps you’ve even done it yourself.  I’m sure there are many great but lost ideas wandering around out there.

Alan

I recently listened to a conversation with Billy Joel, aka “The Piano Man.”  Years ago, he was my son Craig’s favorite singer.  Among other comments, Billy Joel said that he will never forgive himself for not being as good a musician as Beethoven. Talk about ambition!  Early in life I learned that Brahms was good.  Bach was great.  But Beethoven alone stood at the pinnacle of classical music composers.

I grew up in a musical household.  My parents met while playing in an orchestra.  In the 1930’s Mom played the trumpet in an all-girl’s band, and my dad was a professional French horn player.  If I wasn’t practicing piano, then I was listening in on Dad’s teaching.  While Mom loved listening to opera on weekend afternoons, for some reason, Dad seldom listened to classical music just for fun. Maybe he just wanted to relax, and it reminded him too much of work.

My parents urged me to become a doctor.  But that was not to be. I nearly fainted at the sight of blood, and besides, I had no desire to memorize everything a doctor needed to know. I told my parents they would have to be satisfied with accounting and law (I liked studying accounting).

Few of us know the answer to the question, “What will I be when I grow up.”  We find out by doing, and what we do often depends on the opportunities and the people we meet along the way. As to how far any of us get towards achieving our highest ambitions – that is in the laps of the Gods.

Recently a good friend asked me what I wanted to be remembered for.  Without a pause I answered, “I don’t need to be remembered for anything.  It won’t do me any good after I’m gone.”

As one of my own favorite singers Phil Oaks wrote, “I won’t be singing on this song when I’m gone, so I guess I better do it while I’m here.”

I understand Billy Joel’s ambition.  When I was young, I wanted to write better plays than Shakespeare.  That hasn’t happened (yet), so I guess, like Billy Joel, I have yet to realize my highest ambition.

But here I am, writing my blog.  As they say, life is what happens while you’re making plans.

Alan