Editorial

Swinging for the Fences

Deval (Reshma) PaRanjPe, mD, mBa, FaCs

eptember and October are months forever associated with returning to school for most of us. The slow S cooling of the earth and the crispness in the air conjure up memories of school supplies, book reports, lockers clanging, and seeing how your friends changed over the summer. Suddenly, it’s time to buckle down and get serious about studies and work. New subjects, new projects, and new tests await.

The advent of autumn—the reminder of change and season of sobriety-brings both excitement and anxiety for many people. During school each autumn meant you were one year older, and expected to be one year wiser, one year better. But were you really? You couldn’t really tell by looking at yourself—not really-- so you looked at your friends and classmates to see what they had become, and if you were keeping pace.

My friends who have children mark the passage of time by their offspring’s milestones. Grace is born, Grace is 5 and comes up to here. Now she is in grade school. Now she is in braces. Now she is in high school, and suddenly Grace, who was a toddler last week, is learning to drive. Now she is going to prom, and college, and grad school, and now married, and having a Grace or two of her own. “We don’t feel old, but we must be old, because Grace is in grad school now.” I mark the passage of time by their children too, of course, but it’s more startling for me because I see their children in flashes, years apart. The changes are tremendous.

My friends who have no children all have a sort of solidarity. We are by all accounts grown-up, mature and responsible members of society but we are also eternally children ourselves. We have no frame of reference.

So what’s a good benchmark? I recently had the good fortune to attend our Pittsburgh Symphony’s stunning opening night concert. Joshua Bell, our country’s foremost violinist, played the Tchaikovsky Violin Concerto. If you’ve never heard Joshua Bell’s performances, I urge you to listen to his albums and better yet see him in concert at any opportunity you may have. His performances are breathtaking in their technique, passion and delicacy. If you’ve never heard the Tchaikovsky Violin Concerto, it is a beloved and sweeping romantic piece imbued with a whirlwind breadth of emotions and plenty of opportunities for virtuoso showmanship . So this was the trifecta: an incomparable artist playing one of the most beautiful pieces of music ever written on an exquisite Stradivarius.

I’ve heard Joshua Bell play this piece three times ten years apart. The very first time was nearly twenty years ago during my fellowship in Minneapolis. I had become friends with a Minnesota Orchestra violinist who lived in my apartment building, which was practically across the street from Orchestra Hall. He urged me to go to this concert, but hadn’t a ticket he could give me. The obstacles were many: I was on call that Saturday and the concert was sure to be a sell-out. The lady at the box office told me there was only one ticket remaining, but it was a princely $100 and I was on a fellow’s meager salary in 2003. She urged me to take it, and hinted that the seat would be well worth the price. My co-fellow kindly covered my call for three hours, and I splurged on the ticket.

When I arrived at the concert hall, I could scarcely believe my luck. “I will remember this all my life” was the only thought in my dazed brain as I took my seat—and I have. The seat was front row center, about five feet directly in front of Joshua Bell and his magnificent violin. The concert was practically a personal serenade. I was in heaven. That night I also learned the value of splurging on experiences like this---even if alone--I was walking on air for weeks

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From Page 5 while slogging through clinic with the music constantly in my head.

It occurred to me as I watched Josh Bell on stage this third time (again on call, again my partner kindly covering) that I was marking the passage of time through his performance of the Tchaikovsky Violin Concerto. I’ve heard him play it when he was 36, then 46, now 54. I must add that the man does not age; this may, like his talent, also be a God-given gift. (Or—much less likely-he is hiding a painting in his attic.) The first time he played it, his performance was flawless. I remember thinking that he took himself so seriously. He played with technical brilliance and restrained passion; his handsome face was set grimly in determination. He was delivering everything expected of a world-class artist, but he seemed self-conscious.

The second time I saw him play this piece was at Heinz Hall about 10 years ago. He still took himself quite seriously, but now there was an element of drama in his performance. His features softened, and his thick mop of brown hair flopped about a bit in the throes of playing. He had moved beyond technical perfection; he began to take some liberties with his interpretation, and the piece was all the better for it.

This time, gentle reader, Joshua Bell swung for the fences. Face completely elastic, interpreting the music just as well as his violin. Hair frenzied and clearly the last thing on his mind. Collared shirt ditched for a dark Nehru jacket to conceal the sweat of a passionate performance under stage lights. And the music! This time, his interpretation had humor as well as pathos, delicacy as well as passion. He coaxed his violin into doing things I’d never heard before, things I didn’t know anyone was capable of doing. He was having fun, and had lost all of his past self-consciousness. This concerto is well known for tugging at your heartstrings; this time I laughed as well as cried. Josh Bell showed the audience every facet of Tchaikovsky’s glittering diamond. “This,” I thought, “is what mature genius sounds like. This….is true mastery, and I’ve been lucky enough to see his evolution to this point.”

After the concert, when by some miracle I met him and blurted out that I’d seen him play this piece thrice in twenty years, Joshua Bell laughed and wryly pointed out: “You know, I DO play other things.”

We as physicians and surgeons also go through an evolution of sorts over time. We aim for technical perfection in our early career and take ourselves very seriously. We start to relax and explore the range of our abilities as the years progress. And in the prime of our career, if we get to the point where we are relaxed, confident and practiced enough that we know ourselves well, express ourselves fully and have fun with our work---swing for the fences---that must be mastery.

The audience (myself included) gave Joshua Bell a standing ovation after the first movement. This is a faux pas in the music world; one is meant to applaud only at the end. But Pittsburgh, a town already famous for its standing ovations, is renowned for this faux pas and the musicians chuckle and tolerate it appreciatively. Pittsburghers, in true salt of the earth fashion, know brilliance when they see it, and know that life is too short not to be effusive with praise.

Think of your own evolution, let go, have fun, see the humor in life, and be effusive with your praise as the season of being serious descends upon us. Swing for the fences, my friends.