The Symphony

This weekend I attended the Utah Symphony at Abravanel Hall with a friend of mine. Before the performance, featuring Rachmaninoff's "Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini," we attempted to eat at one restaurant. We found it closed and, because we were already parked, we searched for somewhere new to go close by.

We end up at Lamb's Grill Cafe. It's the type of place which disguises itself as a small, mediocre pub but is really a jewel. It is both home-like and sophisticated. The booths are intimate and cozy, with coat racks, and linens to give it an air of class. The table has a small lamp and a candle. There is a soft rumble from the other patrons' conversations -- a couple celebrating s promotion, the girlfriends getting together to gripe about boys, the daughter taking her elderly mother for a nice meal. The food was swell. I think you can always tell what kind of place you've come to by their hot chocolate. Ours was served in a tall glass with whipped cream and drizzled chocolate. The atmosphere was divine and the food reasonably priced -- for a sandwich, hot chocolate, and dessert, my meal was about $10.

On to the symphony. Parking was a beast and my shoes were not made for walkin'. We sat on the highest tier, on the front row. The program explained all about the performance -- you know, the why-this-piece-is-wonderful. These sorts of details are important for people like me -- people who understand that classical musical is pure genius but aren't sure exactly why. 

I considered myself brilliant when I was able to pick out some musical points of interest or feel the emotion the composer was getting at. But I felt best when a rush of relief breezed over me as the 18th variation -- the famous variation -- of the "Rhapsody blah blah blah" began. Da, da da, da daaaaah, da, da, da, daaaaaa. 

It was a lovely evening. We dressed to the nines and enjoyed ourselves even more. There is so much "of good report or praiseworthy" in this world. Why do we ever settle for less than the best?