Ode to Joy and Freedom
Music and Memories
I spend most of my day online, reading, watching, and listening. I can’t remember where, but yesterday, I saw a mention of Ode to Joy. It made me smile.
My alarm rang at 2:15 AM today. I sat up and was instantly aware that Ode to Joy was blasting away in my brain! I was immediately transported back to my youth.
My mother loved music. Most of the time, the record player or radio played a selection of classic country western, polkas, and waltzes. She played several instruments and taught me to play them, too. The first was the antique organ at the bottom of our basement steps.
I played saxophone in school. I was in the Concert band. My extracurricular activities included playing in the Jazz band and the Booster band. The Booster band played along with the Marching band at athletic events, but we didn’t have to march.
I also played in a band that wasn’t tied to school. We played in bars, at weddings, school dances, and other events. In this band, I played a variety of instruments.
When I was in 10th grade, the church choir sang Ode to Joy at a Christmas Concert. The song had so much energy, and it made me feel good. One day after school, I used one of the practice rooms available to the band kids. I was trying to remember the song I heard at church.
I didn’t know anyone was there. I wouldn’t have tried to figure out the song and play it by ear if I had. To my surprise, my teacher from Jazz Band, Mr. G., was in his office and heard me picking away at the song.
He knocked on the door and came in. He said he was surprised to hear someone playing classical music. I admitted to Mr. G that I liked all kinds of music but didn’t tell people I liked classical because they made fun of me.
He asked me if I’d ever heard an orchestra, and I said yes. I’ve been to orchestra concerts by our school orchestra, and once, in elementary school, we had a field trip where we went and heard an orchestra.
I told Mr. G that Beethoven was one of my favorite composers because he lost his hearing and was deaf, like one of the people I admired greatly, Helen Keller. I told him I read all the books and stories I could find on Helen and her teacher, Anne Sullivan. From what I’d read, I learned that Beethoven’s music finally allowed Hellen Keller to understand and “hear” music.
That spring, Mr. G. arranged for me to go with him and his wife to hear Beethoven’s 9th Symphony. My Mom sewed the dress I wore to the concert out of leftover fabric from other projects because we couldn’t afford to buy me a dress.
I was surprised to see a choir with the orchestra! I was a bit nervous because sometimes sopranos' voices are so powerful that they are like daggers in my head, and while I like violins, if they are screechy, I can’t tolerate them. (We didn’t know back then I’m autistic and have sound sensitivities.)
But I worried for nothing. The acoustics were perfect and well-balanced, and while powerful, they did not overwhelm me. The concert lasted for almost an hour and a half. I sat between Mr. and Mrs. G.
I remember the conductor stepping up on the podium and raising his arms. He paused, and I could feel the tension in the room as everyone waited. He lifted them a little higher, and the music began.
And then, I was lost in Utopia. I soon forgot I was sitting in a crowd. I forgot I was with Mr. and Mrs. G. All that I was aware of was the music. It wrapped its arms around me and held me tight. I had no thoughts. My entire being was with the music. I had goosebumps from head to toe. My body tingled. My heart sang along, and I was sure the notes would explode out of the top of my head! I not only heard every note, I felt them!
I didn’t know then that Ode to Joy is part of the 9th Symphony. When the performance reached that part, Mr. G later told me that I gasped out loud, and my face lit up.
I sat through the performance, wholly engrossed in the music. When it was over, everyone stood up and applauded—everyone but me. I sat there stunned, tears streaming down my cheeks. I was sure I had just experienced what Heaven must be like. Mrs. G handed me a hanky, gently put her arm around me, and had me stand up. I finally started applauding, and I was the last one to stop.
I talked about that concert for weeks! I told everyone about it—the grocery store cashier, the garbage man, my teachers, neighbors, and classmates. The kids in school could not understand why I’d be so excited about this and not about the Top 10 rock tunes playing on the radio.
How do you explain something that captured every cell of your body and made joy flow through your veins?
Over a decade later, the Berlin Wall fell. That Christmas, the great Leonard Bernstein conducted a celebratory concert in Germany performing Beethoven’s 9th Symphony, which was broadcast in several countries. Once again, I was enthralled with the music.
Fast-forward many more years, and we get our first computer. My son taught me how to use it and suggested that I trace my family tree while learning how to use the internet.
That led me to my German roots and distant cousins I never knew I had. One of them was Frank. He loved doing everything he couldn’t do before the wall fell. I met him on one of his trips to America and stayed at his home when I went to Germany.
While visiting his home, he told me a lot about his life. I don’t think I fully understood freedom until I talked to someone who knows too well what it isn’t. While there, he took me to the church my ancestors have attended for over 400 years. There was a picnic and music after church, and to my surprise and delight, I heard Ode to Joy!
Frank asked about my reaction, so I told him about my youth and my connection to the song. He had his own story to share with me. At Bernstein’s concert, so many people attended that the overflow crowd filled the street outside the theatre and stood there listening from there. Frank was in that crowd.
As our eyes filled with tears, he told me that the word “joy” was replaced with “freedom” at that concert. To think, long before we knew each other, we were connected and didn’t know it. Music. We were listening to the same performance.
During the quiet time at work today, I found the Bernstein concert on YouTube and joyously listened to the performance. Young and old joined together to celebrate the joy of freedom with the world watching and sharing in that joy.
The mention of a song randomly found on the internet yesterday has reminded me of many of life’s lessons: the value of kindness, the gift of freedom, and the fact that we all speak the same language when beautiful melodies embrace the words.
PS: I’m trying to edit this, and I hope it works. After many hours of searching, I finally found where I had seen Ode to Joy mentioned yesterday. It was in a Tweet by Joe Gitchell. His tweet draws the reader’s attention to this wonderful piece by Maria Popova called Trial, Triumph, and the Art of the Possible: The Remarkable Story Behind Beethoven’s “Ode to Joy.” I learned so much from it about Beethoven’s life, and I was thrilled to see it also mentioned Helen Keller. It’s been such a good day! My heart is still singing with Joy.
Until next time!
~Skip