Dear Alma, My orchestra friends seem to pity me…
OrchestrasFrom our agony aunt:
Dear Alma
I played viola in a good orchestra for ten years until I broke my shoulder on the ski slopes and that was that. There was a job vacancy in orchestra management but I couldn’t face sleeping with the enemy. I was 35, married +2, with no other skills or qualifications. I had six months of sleepless nights.
My father-in-law had a business selling high-end sports gear. I took over the online side and turned a family company with two downtown stores into a global outlet. We bought a bigger house, had two more kids and gave thanks for our good fortune.
The only smudge on my happiness is when I go to a symphony concert and my former colleagues look at me with something like pity. I look at them and think: God gave me a choice. What choice did you ever have since a parent put a violin in your four year-old hands? These guys used to be my friends. Now I can’t even stop with them for a beer.
Advice, Alma?
Born Again
Dear Born Again,
I have this recurring dream. It’s a dream that makes me lighter than air, and when I wake up I just float around with a goofy smile on my face. My husband can often pinpoint these days, and says something on the order of “oh, did you dream that your arm fell off, and that you could never play your instrument again?” My response? “Would That it Were”. My Fantasy come True. Done with the endless practice, travel, sweaty concert clothes. Hello regular schedule, steady income, and vacations.
Born Again – good for you! Hard work, an open mind, a fortuitous father-in-law. It doesn’t mean that you don’t miss your viola. The pain of that forced separation isn’t going anywhere – it will remain a pebble in your shoe for the rest of your life.
For a moment, think about your old friends. How many were convenient, situational friends, and how many of them did you really know – did you know the names of their dogs/spouses/kids?
Determine which were true friends, and make a concerted effort to reach out. Just seeing them at a concert won’t show your interest – contact the 2 or 3 that you most miss, and suggest a one-on-one coffee to catch up.
Born Again, most of us lose our friends when we switch jobs. But with a little planning, you may be able to rekindle the camaraderie of one or two old pals that are worth the effort, and once again feel close to your first true love, the viola.
Questions for Alma? Please put them in the comments section or send to DearAlmaQuery@gmail.com
I cannot believe what I read in these columns! “Sleeping with the enemy?” That is cheap novel stuff! And having changed career, he cannot even meet up with his former friends? The suggestion that having switched careers the friends he made over 10 years in the orchestra will not now even enjoy a beer with him is . . . you get the drift!
I have noted Alma has not responded to the point I made in an earlier thread when she stated she wrote all the replies herself. I do not doubt it and commend her for spending the time. But does she also make up all (or most) of the incoming letters?
Hello Nick2 –
This is Alma – the letters come in via the personal email address, through the comments section, and also sometimes from a personal experience of mine (student or co-worker). Before I accepted this challenge, I read just about every possible advice column books available at my library. Interestingly, your angle of query (curiousness about genesis of questions) featured in almost every forward by the author. It’s an interesting question, but in my opinion, impossible to answer as I cannot trace the emails or comments back to the original writer to check on the source. So I pick which ones seem important, interesting, timely or wild, making sure to keep a mixture. Thank you for continuing to read!
Thank you Alma. I do appreciate your reply. I have been quite critical of some of the letters but will now take them less so given your confirmation that they are indeed – or at least seem to be – from ‘real’ people.
Thanks for the reassurance, Alma. I confess I too had my doubts, but as they say, truth is stranger than fiction. (On a minor point: it’s ‘foreword’ not ‘forward’.)
Once you leave, they don’t care a wink. Especially if you went on to something better….
Your former colleagues have sour grapes, pure and simple.
Rather than showing you have “no other skills”, as you claim – in fact you have shown that you do have other skills and have made it very successfully in another field.
My suggestion? If you want to go and enjoy a concert where you don’t get this attitude, then maybe go hear a different orchestra or opera company where you know less of the players. It’s possible you’ve been spending too much time with the same old schmucks; new artists may re-invigorate your music listening experience. You might be surprised just how good they are.
(P.S. How did I do Alma? Any time you want to put your feet up, I’m here…)
They were never your friends.
Yes, I wish management was not viewed as the “enemy”. A good orchestra needs good management. Musicians by themselves do not have the skill set to run a Big Orchestra without the right training on the business end of things.
That said, most orchestra musicians do not contemplate a life outside of the orchestra until confronted with issues regarding overuse syndrome, not receiving tenure, or being unable to secure a position through the audition process.
Sounds like you have a great situation that might allow you to play chamber music, raise a healthy family, and be home at night when your former colleagues are working.
You did just fine.
Painfully illustrates life as, and as a former viola player. Prozac performers.
They probably see you as an audience member now, a patron of the arts, not a musician. You just have to show them that you are still the same violist at heart.
Your “loss” was also a loss for your orchestra colleagues, and perhaps they are having some difficulty managing that. Try taking the initiative here. One option: Get involved a little in the public-facing side of the orchestra: Fund-raising, publicity, or whatever. Let your colleagues know that you still love the orchestra, and though you can’t play, you still feel a connection, and will contribute in your own way.