I am crazy in love with American composer Aaron Copland. The first time I heard “Appalachian Spring” I was awestruck. It is one of my very favorite pieces of music and it still renders me speechless.

 

You’d think I’d get over it. You’d think its appeal would mellow. But I haven’t gotten over it and its appeal hasn’t mellowed one bit. When I listened to an NPR piece about “Appalachian Spring,” I began crying, just hearing the little bit played.

 

A few years ago, the Los Angeles Philharmonic was set to perform “Appalachian Spring” at the Hollywood Bowl. I couldn’t get tickets, but I was fortunate enough to know about rehearsals at the Bowl: you can usually get in free to see and hear the rehearsals during the week. There are no guarantees, but I decided to take my chances and I drove to the Hollywood Bowl on a designated weekday morning. The guard let me drive right up to the back door and park, and I moseyed on in and found a seat. As it was a rehearsal, the Philharmonic started and stopped a few times. But when they played through, I was mesmerized. The day was warm and the sun was beating down on me, but I felt snows melting. I saw green buds fighting to burst forth. I heard the earth coming alive after a long, cold winter. And yes, I cried tears of joy.

 

I hope I never get over Aaron Copland’s “Appalachian Spring.” I want always to be moved to tears. I want to always – always – love this music so much it causes my heart to ache with appreciation. Amen.

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