As the summer approaches its end, a melancholy sentiment gradually surged from my heart. I don't remember what was the last time I had such a peaceful summer as this one. My summers in the past few years had been busy and full of activities: graduation, language studies, traveling, emotional roller coaster, etc. They were rewarding experiences, but a bit hectic and overwhelming. This summer, on the other hand, has been truly serene. I stay in Boston, set up my own life routine, see some old friends, and explore the New England area from time to time. Some moments, though seemingly commonplace, are quite memorable. For one, every time when I finished swimming at the Blodgett Pool in later afternoon and biked back home, I crossed the bridge on the Charles River. As I turned my head toward the river, I saw the sunset lightening up the water creating myriad of sparkles on its surface. Canoes and sails slid elegantly on the river, with everything tinged with a golden color. To find beauty of life, you don't need go afar; it is right next to you, as long as you have the eyes to see.
No wonder I began to like Boston more. I didn't like it when I firstly moved here. It had less to do with Boston than the metropolitan life in general. I found the traffic nauseating, people intense, and the rhythm of life faster (of course this is in comparison to Ann Arbor, a mid-Western university town). But now after two years of living, I realized that city life has its own appeals, especially for a historical town like Boston. When I was in Kyoto last summer, my mentor K told me this wonderful Japanese saying over a dinner: Wherever you live, it is the capital (of your life). [住めば、都] There is also a similar saying from Analects that goes "Since you have come, settle down at the place." (既來之，則安之) I think I am making Boston the capital of my life at the moment.
That is probably why as the summer is getting over, I became a bit anxious. The busy schedule of fall is looming large: teaching, course taking, prospectus writing, lots of other academic activities. Although I still have work to finish by the end of the month, I found somewhat difficult to concentrate perhaps due to melancholy derived from nostalgia for the fleeting summer time. Nonetheless, I hope the rhythm of my life will continue.
Yesterday, as part of the summer activities, I went to the Tanglewood Musical Center to watch a performance there. The center is located in Lenox, a small town in western Massachusetts not far from the border between MA and NY. This is the summer arena for BSO (Boston Symphony Orchestra), a prestigious orchestra with 130-year history. [Interestingly, Tanglewood was named after Nathaniel Hawthorne's work Tanglewood Tales.] I have to admit that I am not a crazy fan for classical music, though I listen to them from time to time largely because of their beautiful melodies (so let's say, pieces from Mozart, Chopin, and Tchaikovsky are more accessible to me). Back in Ann Arbor, sometimes I went to see a classical music performance not because they were good (I couldn't tell anyway) but because they were famous. This time, I chose a different kind of show: a pop musical event; a performance on Hollywood movie soundtracks conducted by the legendary film music composer John Williams, who made music for Star Wars, E.T., Schindler's List, Jurassic Park, among others. In addition, Morgan Freeman also showed up, narrating an episode written by William Faulkner accompanied by John Williams's music. His voice was quite magnetic as people usually say.
Perhaps it is worth two and an half hours driving to participate such an event. The atmosphere was festive. The arena is oriented to family gatherings; behind the regular seating is this huge lawn where people can bring food and drinks, and enjoy the show under the sky. As the performance started with the familiar soundtracks and a collage of movie clips shown on the big screen (similar to the opening of the annual Oscar Ceremony), people became excited and exclaimed delightfully. The old lady sitting next to me seemed to be very emotional when she saw some familiar images on the screen. I understood the sentiments well. As everybody else in the audience, I came here primarily not because the content of the music (it is euphonious for sure), but because the memories connected to the music and the movie-watching experiences. The whole generation of Americans grew up with watching Star Wars and Jaws, which have become an important part of their identity. I can easily imagine the lady next to me is one of them. Although I myself don't share the same experiences (for one thing, the Star Trek or the Monty Python references still elude me), I resonate with them how memories and life stories intertwine with music and movie-watching experiences. My stories are too many to recount here (perhaps save for a future episode), and indeed they have shaped my identity significantly. So I sat there, enjoying the familiar tunes with flashes of memories in my head, some more fuzzy than others. I felt greatly contended.
