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| Michael Fitzpatrick |
After all these years, thanks to social media, some of those associations have sprung back to life. At the time, I was roughly twice their age; I acted young and they acted mature so things worked out. Mostly they worked out because there was a certain sense of community within the group; mutual, member to member, support and appreciation of each other past the "she's a great player" type of thing and into the "we are friends within music" realm that was very special.
In the last year, for instance, I've heard from Gail who is a guiding force for a major symphony, her sister Linda, now an author of great skill, Joe who is a great amateur trumpet player, Richard who plays with the NY Philharmonic and just the other day, Michael or Mike as I remember him, turned up to make it an even dozen.
I've known of Michael but never made the connection. He is, now, a pretty famous musician. Back when I knew him he was a bit of a handful, super talented, mind going a mile a minute and just "full of it", but not in a bad way...just full up with energy. He had a lot of friends and played a very good cello. 30 or so years ago, I moved on and aside from peaks into my memory chest in the attic, and now social media, these folks have disappeared from view. I'm glad that he and the others have been so kind as to contact me; I find it amazing that they even remember my name. That goes to the meat of this little writing.
Social media has lot of faults. It transgresses privacy to the point of intrusion and some of the things people write and "post" about are mindless. There is an old saying that there are 70 million blogs (for instance) each with one reader. Don't say "like this blog...hmmm!".
To this old mind, social media consists of hundreds of millions of people each wanting to be "friended" or, at the very least, recognized. Its only value rests in the faint hope that someone who crossed your path and fell out of touch can resurface and "bump" into you - otherwise it would never happen. Never. So instead of great memories that otherwise would rest underneath dust on a picture, up someone springs with a breath of fresh air and restores the images making them once again viewable. My last clear image of Mike was at the Lexington Opera House's third floor rehearsal room, cellos off to my right, sitting with Ian and Gretchen around him.
Big smile on his face like he was up to somethin'.