Category: National Parks

Independence Day 2022: Our Lives, our Fortunes and our Sacred Honor

By Douglas Yeo

Today is Independence Day in the United States of America. It’s a holiday; banks, the post office, and the stock market are closed. Friends of ours are coming over to our house later today and we’ll have dinner together. Grills across the country are firing up and families are having cookouts and picnics. There will be patriotic concerts, and fireworks will light up the night sky.

Of course, July 4 is more than all of that. This holiday isn’t just a day off. It’s a day to remember July 4, 1776, when a group of of representatives from the Thirteen Colonies gathered to sign a Declaration of Independence from Great Britain. The cause was justice and freedom, and these brave individuals signed their names under the Declaration’s final sentence:

And for the support of this Declaration, with a firm reliance on the protection of divine Providence, we mutually pledge to each other our Lives, our Fortunes and our Sacred Honor

They were serious. Very, very, serious. They put everything on the line for justice and freedom.

The first monument to the Revolutionary War erected in the United States, 1799. Lexington (Massachusetts) Battle Green.

My wife and I lived in Lexington, Massachusetts, for over 27 years during the time I was bass trombonist of the Boston Symphony Orchestra. It was in Lexington where “the shot heard ’round the world” was fired on April 19, 1775, the first battle of what came to be called the American Revolution. Lexington’s Battle Green is full of monuments, including the first Revolutionary War monument in the United States (photo above), erected on July 4, 1799, and around which are buried the bodies of the eight Colonial militiamen who died on that April morning. Take a moment to read the inscription. And think of the eight men who died, whose names are inscribed on the tablet. They had families, friends, occupations. And they sacrificed everything for the cause of justice and freedom. If you live in the United States, they died for your freedom. And my freedom, too.

Our country is facing great challenges right now. I can’t fix all of them. Neither can you. But like anyone who is reading these words, I can do something. I can start—you can, too—by emulating the fruits of the Holy Spirit, as outlined in the Bible, in Galatians 5:22-23:

The fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.

That’s a good place to start. Then, in the words of the old gospel song by Ina Duley Ogdon:

Do not wait until some deed of greatness you may do,

Do not wait to shed your light afar;

To the many duties ever near you now be true,

Brighten the corner where you are.

I look to the promise of the Declaration of Independence. We have imperfectly implemented its aspirational goals that so many have died to defend. But my father often said, “The United States has the worst system of government in the world. Except for all the others.” I have been around the world; I have visited 30 countries. I love many things about all of them. But the United States is home to me, and our system of government and governing, and our country—though full of imperfect, sinful people, and creaking under great stress right now—is still worth fighting for. Just because we haven’t fixed it doesn’t mean we shouldn’t keep trying to fix it. I hold on to the promise of the Preamble of the Declaration of Independence, and I work to implement it with my thoughts, words, and deeds:

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men [and women] are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty, and the pursuit of Happiness.

Douglas Yeo at home in Valley Stream, New York. Memorial Day, 1960.

When I was a boy, I lived in Valley Stream, New York. We moved there in spring, 1960, from Queens, New York, and I began kindergarten that fall. That’s me, above, on Memorial Day, 1960. I don’t have that flag anymore (a good eye will notice that flag I’m holding has only 48 stars—Alaska became the 49th state on January 3, 1959, and Hawaii became the 50th state on August 21, 1959), and the Volkswagen Beetle parked in our neighbor’s driveway long ago went to a junkyard. But the American flag still waves. It is a beacon of hope, a symbol of the promise that we citizens of the United States of America should work every day to fulfill.

Dr. Howard Clark was my pastor for several years in the 1980s. He closed Sunday morning worship services with this benediction, below. It is based on some of the words of the Apostle Paul, his First Letter to the Thessalonians, 5:12–15. I call it to mind every day because it reminds me of how I should think and act as one who has one foot in the Kingdom of God, and one foot in that place I call home here on earth, the United States of America:

Now go into the world in peace.

Have courage; hold on to that which is good.

Honor all men and women; strengthen the fainthearted, support the weak.

Help the suffering, and share the Gospel.

Love and serve the Lord in the power of the Holy Spirit.

And may the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with you all. Amen.

If you live in the United States, take a few minutes today to read the Declaration of Independence. Today is about more than cookouts, parades, and fireworks. It’s about gratitude and hope, and our duty to work to fulfill the promise of that day in 1776.

Promotional photo from a brochure produced by the Boston Symphony Orchestra, for concerts by the Boston Pops Orchestra, early 1990s. The brochure tapped into the fact that the encore for every Boston Pops concert was John Philip Sousa’s The Stars and Stripes Forever. Photo of Douglas Yeo by Michael J. Lutch.

The beauty of the saguaro cactus

My wife and I live on the southwest side of Phoenix in the foothills of the Estrella Mountains. We love living there. It is quiet and dark at night, and we are surrounded by stunning natural beauty. We live just south of the Gila River, in an area that used to part of Mexico before the Gadsden Purchase transferred 29,670 square miles of Mexico to the United States in 1853 (for a payment of $10 million dollars, roughly $270 million dollars today). Most of that land became part of the Arizona Territory and nearly 60 years later, in 1912, Arizona became the last of the lower 48 states to be admitted to the Union – State 48.

We also live in what is called the Sonoran Desert, a unique ecosystem that covers 100,000 square miles of southern Arizona, a small part of southern California, and Sonora and Baja, Mexico. It is a remarkable place with an iconic, ever changing landscape. Principal among the things that make the Sonoran Desert so interesting is the saguaro cactus.

This cactus — pronounced “soh-WAHR-oh” —along with the American bison, has become the symbol of the American west. They grow slowly and they grow tall. They usually sprout arms, and have beautiful, white, trumpet bell shaped flowers in the spring. They live for many decades. And then they die.

Today, my wife and I enjoyed a very nice four mile hike in the desert just a few minutes from our home where we were surrounded by these great cacti. It occurred to me as we were hiking that we got to see saguaro cacti in nearly their whole life cycle. So I took a few photos to share with readers of The Last Trombone.

Like every plant, the saguaro cactus starts out small. This young saguaro, above, is about three feet high. If it sprouts arms, that won’t happen for many years. The growth cycle of the saguaro cactus isn’t fully understood and some saguaros will bud arms when they are about 60 years old while others stay tall and straight with no arms for their whole lives.

Pictured above is a saguaro cactus with three small buds that have just started to grow.

In time, those buds may grow to be very large, like arms, and create the iconic image (above) of a saguaro cactus. Arizona State University’s Alma Mater sings of this:

Where the bold Saguaros raise their arms on high,

Praying strength for brave tomorrows from the Western sky,

Where eternal mountains kneel at sunset’s gate,

Here we hail thee, Alma Mater, Arizona State.

Eventually a saguaro changes as it nears the end of its life. This process may take many years. At first, the cactus will begin losing its needles and outer pulp, exposing the hard, stiff skeleton that brings water up from the ground to the entire cactus. In the photo above, you can see that water in the wash in the foreground — yes, this would be full of raging water when it rains — has eroded the bottom of the cactus and it is from the bottom that these cacti have begun to rot. Two cacti have already fallen, one remains in good condition, and one is showing the evolution of decay.

Eventually the saguaro falls. They usually break near their base and fall to the ground in the same shape in which they were standing, as seen in the photo above.

When the saguaro falls in an orderly way, its “bones” eventually are left exposed on the ground in a straight line.

Sometimes, the saguaro falls in a chaotic way, uprooted by violent wind, with parts scattered around.

Other times, the cactus begins to die from its top and as it sheds its pulp, the bones begin to form beautiful shapes as they are pushed by the wind and their own weight.

On rare occasions, the saguaro falls from its top into an elegant arch. This always reminds me of the St. Louis Gateway Arch, the gateway to the west. The beauty of these fallen saguaro arches is really something to behold.

Not all saguaros that fall in the desert decompose and go back to the earth. A few years ago, we purchased these saguaro bones (pictured above) that had been collected by a talented artist who did little more to them than saw the base so they could stand up. These bones — I think they look like organ pipes — stand in our living room. They remind us every day of the beauty and ever changing nature of God’s creation that is around us in this special place, the Sonoran Desert.

Photo in the header of this article: Estrella Mountains, Arizona.

Photo at the end of this article: Sign at Hermit’s Rest, Grand Canyon National Park:

O Lord, how manifold are thy works!

In wisdom hast thou made them all: the earth is full of Thy riches.

Psalm 104:24

And below, a prayer:

Father almighty, wonderful Lord, Wondrous Creator, be ever adored;

Wonders of nature sing praises to You, Wonder of wonders –

I may praise, too!

Touched by beauty

The least frequently performed of Paul Hindemith’s sonatas for various instruments is his Sonata for Alto Horn in E-flat and Piano. It was written for an instrument that is not played in concert bands and symphony orchestras, but rather is mostly used in British style brass bands. Still, I believe this Sonata is one of Hindemith’s finest and it also has a unique feature. Before the final movement, Hindemith wrote a poem to be recited in dialogue by the soloist and accompanist. Titled The Posthorn, the poem speaks about technology, memory, and beauty. Its final lines are among my favorites in literature:

Your task it is, amid confusion, rush, and noise

to grasp the lasting, calm, and meaningful,

and finding it anew, to hold and treasure it.

I am very interested in “the lasting, calm, and meaningful.” The world is a loud, busy, chaotic place. I seek out its antidote: quiet, beautiful, and ordered places. One of the reasons why my wife and I moved to Arizona in 2012 when I retired from the Boston Symphony is so we could be in proximity to the great National Parks of the west, places we have turned to time and time again for refreshment.

This past August, we took a three week road trip through California and up to Oregon, where we spent time hiking in several National and State Parks. Here are a few photos from that trip. I don’t need to provide extensive commentary; you can click on the links in the caption to each photo for information about each park, but perhaps at this particular moment in time, you, like I, might receive some refreshment from looking at these photos. Perhaps they will stir your own memory of a visit to these places, or inspire you to want to see them yourself. They are, indeed, “lasting, calm, and meaningful.”

Sequoia National Park

The giant sequoia trees of Sequoia National Park defy description. These trees are the largest living things on earth; some are as tall as 275 feet high. Think about that. Nearly as tall as the length of a football field. We took a long hike through the Giant Forest Grove and did not see another person for over two hours. We were alone with these magnificent trees. Here is a photo of Sentinel Tree, mature sequoia tree that is just outside the Giant Grove Visitor Center.

It’s difficult to get a sense of perspective of just how large these trees are from a photo. So here is a video to help get a grip on this. It shows my wife, Patricia, standing in front of “The Happy Family” group of giant sequoia trees in the General Grant Grove in Kings Canyon National Park, adjacent to Sequoia National Park. A picture is worth a thousand words. A video is worth a million. And listen carefully while playing the video in a quiet place; you can hear the chirping of birds. We took this video very early one morning when no other people were in the area. To view this video on YouTube, click on THIS LINK:

Kings Canyon National Park

As mentioned above, Kings Canyon National Park is adjacent to Sequoia National Park; they are jointly administered by the National Park service. A small part of Kings Canyon has giant sequoia trees, but most of the park is the dramatic canyon, a mile deep, through which flows the Kings River. There are peaks in the park that are over 14,000 feet high; here is a photo of the Grand Sentinel peak which is at the end of the Kings Canyon Scenic Byway.

Mount Shasta region

From Sequoia and Kings Canyon National Parks we entered California’s Mount Shasta region. Mount Shasta is 14,179 feet high and covered with snow year round. On the way to our trailhead, we passed thousands of perfectly formed pine trees. I had never seen such symmetry in trees; it was stunning to behold.

We had intended to hike from Gray Butte but the road to the trail was closed. It was blocked by snow. In late July. So we parked at Bunny Flat and hiked to the Sierra Club Cabin at Horse Camp. The view of Mount Shasta was stunning.

Pat has an aunt and uncle who live in northern California so we stopped to see them a few days. It was a bit of a family reunion, too, with several of her cousins and their families there as well. We spent a morning driving and then hiking to a remote alpine lake, a pristine body of water in a stunningly beautiful setting. This panoramic photo gives only an idea of the majesty and solitude of this remarkable place.

Crater Lake National Park

I have been fascinated by Crater Lake National Park since my childhood. Located in Oregon, the lake formed when Mount Mazama literally blew its top. The lake is 1,943 feet deep at its deepest point and is six miles across. I was unprepared for its size; it is breathtaking. Inside the lake is Wizard Island, a volcano inside the volcano. Sometimes things come together to allow our eyes to see an iconic view that is then called to mind every day thereafter. Such was the case at the moment I took this photo, below. The stillness of the water, the reflections of the crater and clouds in the water, the bits of snow, and the deep green of the trees all came together to give us a memorable moment in time. A panoramic photo of Crater Lake I took a few minutes later is at the top of this article.

In addition to Wizard Island, there is one other geologic feature that comes up through the surface of the water at Crater Lake. That is Phantom Ship, a rocky outcropping that stands 200 feet high. Getting close to Phantom Ship was the last thing we did at Crater Lake, and seeing it was the realization of a long held dream. You can also see the difference in the clarity of the air between this photo and the one above. Smoke from wildfires in the area created a light haze, and these fires were precursors to the horrific and damaging fires that burned in the San Francisco Bay and Los Angeles areas later in the year.

Redwood National Park

Giant redwood trees are not the same as giant sequoia trees. Redwoods grow taller, and do not have the same, thick, soft bark as sequoias. They are also not as wide at their base as sequoias. Redwood National Park in California is one of the few places in the world where these majestic coastal redwoods grow. The park is actually a collection of parks, some of which are state parks, that form a chain of areas that protect these majestic trees.

As we took hikes on the Hope Creek and Rhododendron Trails in Redwood National park, we were instantly transported into a dramatic, quiet, lush forest. It reminded me of the opening lines of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s epic poem, Evangeline, where he wrote:

This is the forest primeval. The murmuring pines and the hemlocks,

Bearded with moss, and in garments green, indistinct in the twilight,

Stand like Druids of eld, with voices sad and prophetic,

Stand like harpers hoar, with beards that rest on their bosoms.

Loud, from its rocky caverns, the deep-voiced neighboring ocean

Speaks, and in accents disconsolate answers the wail of the forest.

The tallest redwood tree is 379 feet and like the giant sequoia trees, a photograph simply cannot give a sense of perspective. So here is a video of me looking up at a giant redwood in Redwood National Park. Again, if you listen carefully, you can hear the sounds of birds. We did not see another person on this hike. To view this video on YouTube, click on THIS LINK.

Lassen Volcanic National Park

We had intended to visit Lassen Volcanic National Park on the first part of our trip, on our way up to Crater Lake. But the park road was closed due to snow. We kept checking the status of the snow plowing at the park and we were very pleased when the road cleared just as were beginning our trip south back home to Arizona. We rejigged our plans so we could spend a day at Lassen.

This was an unexpectedly wonderful park. Like Mount Shasta, it features a snow covered mountain as its centerpiece. But on our hike around Manzanita Lake, we saw a group of deer, a doe and two fawns. They were aware of our presence but we quietly passed. It was a beautiful moment.

Manzanita Lake provided us with another of those remarkable views that combined water, sky, mountain (Lassen Peak), and trees. It was a “postcard view” that we stopped and took in for quite awhile.

We did not climb to the top of Lassen Peak but we did go to its trailhead. It was this area of the park that had the most snow in the winter of 2016-17 and the last to be cleared of snow. As we walked around the area, I did something I had not done since the winter of 2011-12: I made a snowball. Pat snapped this photo of me tossing the snowball up in the air and she caught it just as it was at the peak of my toss. Holding snow in my hands brought back a lot of memories of our life in New England, although I confess I had never done this before in the month of August!

These trips to National Parks refresh, invigorate, and inspire us. They are, indeed, part of what God has given to us to enjoy that embody Hindemith’s memorable words, “the lasting, calm, and meaningful.” We never tire of visiting them, either for the first time, as was the case with all of the parks we visited on this trip, or over and over, like Grand Canyon National Park. The Parks are, indeed, in the words of historian Wallace Stegner, America’s best idea. But while their preservation and access are the responsibility of our great National Park Service, it is the Creator who made all of this for us to enjoy who receives my greatest thanks and praise:

O Lord, how manifold are thy works!

In wisdom has thou made them all: the earth is full of Thy riches.

• Psalm 104:24

Three trips: music, friends, and faith

The last few months have been full of travel, as I’ve criss-crossed the United States several times to play and speak at a number of events. It is times like this that are very refreshing and invigorating to me, as I get to be with other fine musicians and make music at a high level. At the same time, my conversations with others are always very rich, and when I come home, I find myself energized and grateful for the blessing of a life lived with music.

The first of these three tripe was to the International Trombone Festival (June 27-July 1), which was held at University of Redlands, California. As I mentioned earlier in this blog, I played duets with three friends: Jim Markey (bass trombonist of the Boston Symphony), Megumi Kanda (principal trombonist of the Milwaukee Symphony), and Gerry Pagano (bass trombonist of the Saint Louis Symphony). In addition, Megumi and I gave a class titled The One Hundred: Effective Strategies for Successful Audition Preparation.

[From top left, clockwise: Douglas Yeo with Megumi Kanda, Gerry Pagano, Bill Watrous, Jennifer Wharton]

Part of the fun of being at these kinds of events is meeting up with old friends. I ran into jazz great, Bill Watrous, while walking through the vendor area at the ITF. Bill was tremendously influential on me – and countless other players – when I first hear him on his Manhattan Wildlife Refuge recording in 1975; have a listen to his iconic and influential performance of Fourth Floor Walk-Up. Years later, we began a friendship that, interestingly enough, does not center around jazz. Rather, when we speak on the phone, Bill always wants to talk about classical music, especially Edward Elgar. Bill is expertly conversant in classical music, something that may come as a surprise to many who know him as a jazz trombone icon. I recall hearing him give a clinic at Lexington High School in Massachusetts (the town in which my wife and I lived from 1985-2012 when I was a member of the Boston Symphony) where he played Samuel Barber’s Adagio for Strings on trombone using multiphonics. To say his performance was stunning is a profound understatement.

I also got to meet up with my former student, Jennifer Wharton, who was at the ITF to play in the XO All Stars jazz trombone quartet. Jen is a remarkable person and player, living in New York City with her husband, John Fedchock, playing a Broadway show, teaching, and freelancing. Jen is one of the most positive and engaging people I’ve ever met, and having time to meet up with her, have some conversation and a meal together, and play duets was a real joy.

While on my way to Redlands, I stopped off at Joshua Tree National Park in California to purchase my National Parks Lifetime Senior Pass. Getting older bring with it some challenges, for sure, but my first “senior discount” after turning 62 this past May was this Pass, a real deal for $10.00; I got mine just before the fee changed to $80.00. Going to National Parks is a real passion for my wife and me, and to hold this lifetime pass in my hand was a moment that made me smile. More on our recent trip to five National Parks in a future post on The Last Trombone.

[Scott Robinson, ophicleide; Douglas Yeo with serpent by Keith Rogers]

Just a few days after the ITF in California, I flew to New York City for the Third Historic Brass Symposium (July 12-14). This time I didn’t have a trombone in my hand. Rather, I brought along a serpent, for I was at the Symposium to premiere a new duet for serpent and ophicleide commissioned by the Historic Brass Society, Caduceus Mixtus, by Jaron Lanier. My partner for the duet was Scott Robinson, known mostly for his superb playing on saxophone, but he also plays ophicleide. The piece was difficult, interesting, and rewarding to play, and our performance at New York University happened to be in the same recital hall where I gave my two graduate recitals when I was a student at NYU for my master’s degree back in 1979. For this performance I used a serpent made by the late Keith Rogers that was entrusted to me by his wife, Kathryn, after Keith’s death in 2008. It is made of plum wood and covered with a (pre-ban) python skin. It seemed to be the right instrument to use for a piece that had as part of its inspiration, the caduceus, with its intertwined snakes.

In addition to hearing scholars present exceptionally interesting papers at the Symposium, we enjoyed a day of papers and concerts at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. The Museum is one of my favorite places in the world, having grown up in and around New York City and then returning there after I graduated from Wheaton College, from 1976-1979. The musical instrument gallery of the Museum is closed for a complete renovation, but we were given a preview of the construction and also saw some of the Museum’s new acquisitions, including a Baudouin serpent and the Bellophone, a combination tuba and euphonium that was made for the legendary tuba player, Bill Bell, by the H.N. White company.

We also got an up close look at a stunning new installation on the balcony between the two rooms of musical instruments, Fanfare, that features about 60 brasswind instruments. It is an exceptional installation and to have the opportunity to be among the first to see it up close was a real privilege.

I also had time to view some of my favorite works of art at the Museum, including Rembrandt’s Aristotle With a Bust of Homer, a beautiful stained glass window, Autumn Landscape, by Tiffany Studios, and several sculptures by one of my favorite artists, Daniel Chester French. His Angel of Death and the Sculptor and Mourning Victory are displayed in the Museum as marble copies made by French of his bronze cemetery monuments that I discuss in my website resource, Daniel Chester French: Sculpture in Situ.

[From top, clockwise from left: Rembrandt, Aristotle With a Bust of Homer; Tiffany Studios Autumn Landscape; Daniel Chester French, Mourning Victory and The Angel of Death and the Sculptor]

While in New York, there was one thing I wanted to see that was not connected to the Symposium: the 9/11 Memorial and Museum. Anyone alive on September 11, 2001, remembers that horrific, difficult day; the world has never been the same since. Having been up the World Trade Center tower many times, its destruction hit me, as it did many others, very hard. Going to the 9/11 Memorial and Museum was a very strong, powerful experience. To see wreckage of the Twin Towers and a crushed fire truck up close is something I will always carry with me, even as I admired the new building, 1 World Trade Center (originally nicknamed the “Freedom Tower”), that has arisen to the height of 1,776 feet and now is a new icon in the New York Skyline. The fountains that form the memorial, covering the original footprints of the World Trade Center towers, are a powerful and moving thing to behold.

But there was an unexpected surprise. As I came out of the subway to go to the Memorial and Museum, there was a new shopping center, Oculus, that featured a remarkable display of images from the Sistine Chapel at the Vatican in Rome. In nearly life size, enormous photographs of the ceiling and altar wall were on display. I found this to be serendipitous, since my wife and I will be soon be traveling to Rome and we will see the Sistine Chapel with our own eyes. To walk around this installation and see Michaelangelo’s frescos of the ceiling of the Chapel up close was a delightful surprise.

On to the third trip.

Just last week, I was back on the east coast, at Duke Divinity School in Durham, North Carolina, to perform at two programs that focused on theology and music (August 30-September 2).

These were led by Dr. Jeremy Begbie, professor of theology at Duke Divinity School. Last year, about a dozen musicians took part in the first of these kinds of events, sponsored by Duke Initiatives in Theology and the Arts. After the success of that event, a much large scale offering was planned for this year, with over 30 musicians invited to take part in the events.

A concert at Duke’s Nasher Museum of Art was in conjunction with a new exhibition, The Medici’s Painter: Carlo Dolci and 17th-Century Florence. The exhibition was revelatory, and at the evening’s program that included two fascinating lectures about Dolci and his work, our group of eight brass players performed two Italian Renaissance works while a chamber music group played as part of two lectures and also performed the first movement of Bach’s Brandenburg Concerto 2. If you find yourself in the Durham area soon, I urge you to visit this superb exhibit at the Nasher.

[Carlo Dolci, Virgin and Child, late 1640s. Collection of The Bob Jones University Museum & Gallery, Greenville, South Carolina, installed at The Nasher Museum, Duke University]

The players at these DITA events are all Christians and come from symphony orchestras and universities from around the United States. Working with these like-minded colleagues was pure joy, and our playing, meals together, and conversations were invigorating. After the program at the Nasher, we took a photo of current and former members of the Baltimore Symphony Orchestra who were participating in the program. Here you can see me (I played bass trombone in the Baltimore Symphony from 1981-1985), Rebekah Edewards (now a violist with the Boston Symphony), and current principal trumpeter Andrew Ballio and second trumpeter, Nate Hepler.

[Left to right: Douglas Yeo, Rebekah Edewards, Andrew Ballio, Nate Hepler]

As to the trombone section for the events, I was reunited with Megumi Kanda and Jim Kraft, who for many years played trombone in the National Symphony in Washington, D.C. A concert with what was named The New Caritas Orchestra was titled, Home, Away, & Home Again: The Rhythm of the Gospel in Music. Led by Jeremy Begbie – who made insightful and powerful comments throughout the evening and also was a superb piano soloist in works by Rachmaninoff and Shostakovich – the concert was a benefit for The Corner House in Durham, a house where disabled and non-disabled people live together in community. The House is supported by Reality Ministries, and it was truly beautiful to see residents of the house at the concert, and hear some of them speak and others play percussion instruments with us on the final piece on the program. It was a moving, joyful time.

[Left to right: Douglas Yeo, Megumi Kanda, Jim Kraft]

At the request of those of us who played the DITA event in 2016, a seminar was given for the orchestra members on Saturday morning, led by Jeremy Begbie (whose book Resounding Truth: Christian Wisdom in the World of Music is one of the finest I’ve ever read about the intersection of music with the Christian faith) and Alan Torrance. I confess that the three hours spent in this seminar were revelatory. Alan’s presentation on God’s covenant relationship with His people – especially his unpacking of Hebrew words and how they, over time, were poorly translated into Latin and then to English, something that has had an important effect on our understanding of God’s covenant-– and Jeremy’s discussion on the Holy Trinity have given me much to think about and meditate on. God was at work at Duke Divinity School last week and I left there refreshed and challenged.

Three trips in just a few weeks (and another, much longer trip in the middle of these trips about which I will write soon), back and forth over our great country, from sea to shining sea. Music, friends, and faith.