Validation

These past two days at Michigan have been a whirlwind for both Mark and me.  However, his story is much more fascinating than mine, so here goes!

So, Mark and I drove out to Michigan on Thursday, September 1.  Mark had auditions scheduled for the next day, Friday, and we wanted to make sure that he wasn't rushed.  When we arrived around dinnertime on Thursday, we had a million errands to do.  In fact, I can't even remember exactly what we did, but we were gone for a long time and came home very tired.  One thing we DID do was check on audition sign-ups.  Mark had been told by his horn professor, the Adam Unsworth, that auditions were from 3:00-4:45, but that was it.  So, we headed over to the School of Music.

And here begins a small trip down memory lane.  I know this post isn't about me, but my memories are becoming quickly wrapped up in Mark's reality!  As a teenager, I took lessons from two different doctoral students at the school of music.  I spent long hours there reading, and relaxing, and feeding the ducks.  Aside from actual lessons, I don't think I spent one hour in a practice room.  When I didn't have any thing to do on the weekend, I would head over to Britton Recital Hall to hear one of many student recitals.  I have so many fond memories of that place, and unbelievably, I can still get around it too!

Walking around with Mark, my memories faded as I saw his excitement grow.  I realized that this was his school now.  This is where he will spend the majority of the next seven years (his dual-degree program lasts five, and his mission will take up two).  As we were walking towards the recital hall (where his auditions would take place), he stretched his bean-pole body up to the ceiling, touched it and said with relief, "I'm finally here!"  Yes, Mark, you are.

There were signs up everywhere for auditionees, but being 9 p.m., there was hardly a soul in the building.  We walked through the taped double doors, and found the hall, lit to capacity and stocked with a "blind".

The auditions here are the best kind--very, very blind auditions.  The judges sit behind a screen in the audience, and don't see the auditionees.  In Mark's experience, he's found this the best kind of audition.  It's rather scary, looking out and seeing a row of expressionless judges, some of whom try and make conversation, and some of whom don't say a word (of course, you never know which kind you will get, so it's a bit awkward to say "hello" and get no response).  The beauty of blind auditions is that if one has lots of audition experience, one can forget that they are even there (behind the blind) and just plaaaaaaaaaay.

In a moment of brilliance, I remembered that we hadn't had time to unpack the car yet, and Mark's horn (affectionately named "Zen") was still close by.  I asked Mark if he wanted to get him out and do his practicing in the hall for the evening.  He gave me a defiant "no", and started walking out.  I then resurrected the voice of his horn teacher, Angela, and tried to encourage him to do it in the way I thought she would.  She once took us on a backstage tour of the Kimmel Center and had the most interesting things to say about sound and atmosphere.  I channeled Angela, and within a minute, Mark was unpacking Zen and heading back into the recital hall.

At first, Mark was very worried that he was going to get into trouble.  He sat in a chair, behind a stand, and contrary to the norm, his sound stayed very small through his warm-up and beyond.  I was (humorously) sitting behind the screen, seeing as I'm never a part of his practice time, and I didn't want this to be any different.  I wanted him to feel comfortable and to really sink his teeth into the sound of the hall.  After about 30 minutes, I heard, "Mommy, are you still there?"  :-)

At that point, I knew I could speak up.  Again channeling Angela, I told him to use the hall.  It has the most extraordinary sound, reverberating with every note.  As a pianist, it was fascinating to me to hear the piano "playing" along with Mark as he hit different notes, causing the overtones on the strings to ring.  And this is where he started really playing.

And it was at this point that I had one of those motherly out-of-body experiences. Here was my baby boy, standing on a stage where I had never stood.  Here he was, beginning a new chapter in his book of life.  I envisioned him standing in that same spot in seven years, giving his final senior recital with his whole life ahead of him.  What a glorious moment.

And I think it was at this point that Mark realized he could DO this.  He very naturally moved out of the chair, and to the front of the stage.  His body started moving with the music, and I could tell the music was becoming more than just notes.  He even turned his baseball cap around--a good "tell" that Mark is relaxed :-)

He was there for more than an hour.  Even though his lip was blown, he was willing to play "just one more excerpt" (and pose in pure Mark-style) so I could videotape it.

I was glad he got his practicing done for the day (we had been in the car most of it), and by the end, his confidence was through the roof.  I think he could picture himself being successful there tomorrow.  He left feeling confident and happy.

Friday.  Both of us deservedly slept in.  We unpacked his four suitcases and began cleaning out what will be his "dorm" room (more on that in another post).  Around 12:30, he started practicing, and he did for over an hour.  He sounded fantastic.

Darn it.

For those who don't know, there is a superstition in the music world.  Have a bad rehearsal, have a great performance.  It just seems to be the way of the muse.  With a great rehearsal, one begins to worry.

Oh well.

We left around 2:15 for his 3:00 audition. We got there plenty early, and I dropped him off.  Two minutes later, he was back out in the car.  He signed up for one of the only times left:  4:30.  Great.  I had errands to do, and Mark just wanted to go somewhere else for a while and chill.

We headed to Shar to pick up Johannah's revamped viola, and it was back to the music school.  Mark had come dressed in a white button-down shirt and khakis, but after seeing shorts and t-shirts on the early auditionees, he changed into the maize and blue t-shirt he had brought for his later meeting with the rowing team.  I guess that's another beauty of blind auditions, eh?

We got back at 4:00, and he headed in.  Funny thing.  The thermometer read 98 degrees outside, and indeed it was hot.  However, I love heat.  I rolled down the windows, settled in with my iPhone, and sat out there for over an hour and a half.  Of course, I scored some of my lowest scores ever on Boggle, not being able to concentrate on anything but worrying for Mark.  I gave up after a while and just started praying.  I prayed that Mark would be able to walk out of his audition, feeling successful.

And at this point, I can explain the title to this post.

Mark is an amazing horn player.  Being young and having played fewer years than other hornists his age, he's not the best horn player, but he's really, really good.  However, he has had difficulty in the past with auditions in that his best playing isn't reflected in front of the judges.  Nerves get the best of him and he makes crazy mistakes that he has never made before.  Any musician can tell you that auditioning is as much mental as it is physical.

Through either nepotism, age discrimination, or just bad auditions, Mark has never quite been the best in competitive circumstances.  He's been really, really close, usually sitting second chair, but unless he's sitting in the band, he's not first chair.  (As an aside, band leaders love Mark because he plays far more musically and maturely than the majority of band members.)  Anyway, it's been frustrating for Mark, at times, to not have the opportunities of sitting first chair.

Let me explain what these auditions were about.  When Mark walked into that recital hall, he auditioned for either one of two bands, or one of two orchestras.  The tricky thing for woodwind and brass players is that there is always a large possibility of being seated in a band when most woodwind and brass players (if they are serious musicians) prefer to play in an orchestra.  Think about any orchestra you've ever seen--there are 2 clarinets versus 30 violins.  4 horns versus 10 cellos.  The possibilities are pretty slim.

Seeing as Mark is an incoming freshmen, yes, it was mostly a question of which band for Mark.  Even as we were driving around before auditions, Mark said, "It's really strange going back down to the bottom of the totem pole."  Yes, it is.

Knowing all of this, it was hard to fight off the gremlins of worry and nervousness.  Mark knew his track record for auditions.  However, he had actually had a Sunday School lesson the week before at church from a man, Kael Sanderson, who won an Olympic gold medal in wrestling several years ago (he's now the Penn State wrestling coach).  Brother Sanderson had (unbelievably and remarkably) talked about confidence.  He spoke to the boys about believing in yourself before you must do anything scary.  He told them that he believes in only building up his wrestlers before a meet--helping them envision themselves as successes.  Could the timing have been more perfect?  I think NOT!  Mark and I kept reviewing those ideas the whole drive there.

100 minutes later, Mark texted me and told me that they were all sitting in the hall, outside the recital hall, waiting for the results to be posted and would I mind waiting a bit longer?  By this time, I had moved inside the building (permit parking had ended so I could legally park--woot!), and I was happy to wait however long.  As a "by the way" in his text, he said (and I quote), "My audition was fine :-)  Some stuff was excellent and some stuff was not so excellent :-)"  Next text:  "Most of it excellent though"

Five minutes later, he texted me that he was out by the car and ready to go.

Turns out, the results wouldn't be posted for a while and Mark needed to head over to Palmer Field to meet up with the rowing team.  We simply and easily left behind the parking lot, the audition, and the worry.  As we approached the field, Mark got a text from one of the other freshman.

"Mark, you made it into upo."

Mark simply stared at his phone in disbelief.

Seriously.

In truth, the acronym "upo" meant nothing to me.  I asked Mark what it meant.  He turned to me, and with seriously, the largest eyes I've ever seen on that boy, he said, "I made it into the orchestra."

We both just sat there, in the car, staring at his phone.

Yes, I started crying.  In fact, I could hardly see where I was going.

Mark just texted back, "Are you sure?"

We didn't know what to say (not that I needed to, because I would have sounded like a blubbering idiot).

Turns out, Mark beat all of the freshman and most of the sophomores for a seat in the University Philharmonic Orchestra.

Now, I know that this post has already been long enough, but I must add in an experience that Mark told me about after all of this.

Turns out, there was some flub-up with Mark and his audition time.  He was signed up for the audition, had the appropriate paperwork and such, but it somehow didn't translate, nor was it communicated to the judges.  When Mark's audition time had come and gone, and Mark was still waiting in the hall for his audition, his teacher, Prof. Unsworth came out in the hall, ready to leave.  He (and the other judges) had been told that the auditions were over.  Mark didn't know what to do but walk up to Prof. Unsworth and tell him that he hadn't auditioned yet.  He said that Prof. Unsworth looked a little ticked off, but headed back into the hall.  When Mark walked into the hall, the screen had already been taken down in front of Prof. Unsworth, and there he was, sitting and waiting in full view of Mark.

Mark said that he could have let that whole bad experience upset his audition, but at that exact moment, he told himself that he couldn't let it affect his audition.  He needed to just play like he had the night before and forget about the stress.

Validation.  I know there are many components that go into it, but for Mark, yesterday, for auditions, everything came together.  His knowledge of playing the french horn (compliments of Angela and Kelly Drifmeyer), his anonymity (for the most part), his hard work and hours and hours of practicing, and his mental state of mind.  For once (and hopefully as a beginning for many more auditions), he came off a conqueror!

It's these kinds of moments where (if we aren't the best in the world) we can take a bit of pride.  We can look back on the work, our attitudes and the experience and remember that we can be a success.  I hope from this, Mark can move onwards and upwards.  He can remember the positivity surrounding the experience.  I hope he can talk himself "up" when he worries.  I hope he recognizes the value in practicing when it's 11 p.m., and he still hasn't practiced for the day.  I hope he remembers all the people who have believed in him, and who want him to be his best.

Validation.  It's a beautiful thing.