Where the music is... by Helen DePrima and Liz Flaherty

by Liz Flaherty

There has always been music in our house. My husband is a musician and all of our kids were in choir and swing choir. Our living room and hallway are decorated with guitar cases and stands. Sound equipment fills a corner of my office. You’d think we’d have been to a ton of concerts, but we actually haven’t.

          Even so, when Helen and I decided we’d write about a few of our favorite

performances, I had a little trouble deciding. The first concert I ever attended was Kenny Rogers, where my sister, aunt, and I sat in the rain on the top row of bleachers at the Elkhart County Fair in Goshen, Indiana. I sang “The Gambler” for days afterward.

          We saw Peter, Paul, and Mary twice, singing along with songs we’d grown up

with. Laughing because they didn’t even sing “Puff, the Magic Dragon,” just turned it over to the crowd. I can’t get through “Puff” anymore, both because Mary Travers is no longer with us and because it invariably makes me cry over my kids’ childhoods that, like Jackie Paper’s, went too fast.

          My favorite—and I told him I wouldn’t do this—was a few months ago when my husband did a solo performance at

a local library. It was standing room only and although I’ve lived with his voice for 47 years, I am still his biggest fan. It was, in a lifetime of memories, a very special one.

          Music usually works its way into my stories, mostly as scenery, but Luke, the hero of my August Heartwarming, Nice to Come Home To, sits on a stool in the corner of the heroine’s coffee shop and sings his way into her heart. I am so excited about the story—I hope you’re looking forward to it, too. Here's a little teaser from when Luke and Cass are walking through the orchard one day.

“Wait!” Luke drew them to a halt, standing still in the crunchy autumn grass. “Do you hear it?"

“Hear what?”

“The music. Somewhere, someone’s playing an apple orchard waltz.” He swung her into his arms. “Come on, let’s dance.”

She tried to pull away, both laughing and embarrassed. “Don’t tell me you’ve missed Royce calling me Sister Two Left Feet. She’s not kidding.”

“Don’t worry about your feet.” He held her closer and smiled into her eyes. “Dance from your heart—that’s where the music is.”

by Helen DePrima

I can’t dance or sing, and I blew my lines in the senior play, fortunately in a minor role. Maybe that’s why I take such joy in the talents of others. I’ve attended so many wonderful concerts and plays and dance programs over the years, it’s hard to say which were my favorites, which touched or inspired me most, but three top the list.

Newly married, my husband and I scraped our pennies together for an evening in Denver to hear one of our favorite up-and-coming singers, John Denver. The performance was his first concert at a real theater, a giant step up from bars and coffee houses. We went backstage afterwards to congratulate him; he was over the moon over his big success, grinning from ear-to-ear and chanting, “Far out!” like a broken record. I’ll always bless his memory for the wonderful music he gave the world.

I’ve had the privilege of seeing Mikhail Baryshnikov perform not once but twice, at the peak of his career. My daughter, a young teen, was also a huge fan, so we treated her to the VIP experience before the performance, billed as “creative black tie.” I don’t recall what I wore, but we found Jennifer a modest but elegant cocktail dress from the ‘30’s, with marcelled waves in her hair. Even the great man himself took note of her. We floated on the experience while we marveled at his gravity-defying leaps. We saw him again a few years later with his own White Oak Dance Project, freed from all the restraints of traditional ballet, carrying us to new heights with his creative genius.

Very recently, we attended a dance event featuring three of the premium professionals from Dancing with The Stars. We took advantage of the pre-show meet-and-greet, worth every penny. I loved the opportunity to tell Maks and Val Chmerkovskiy and Maks’s wife Peta how much their dancing has entertained and moved us, and their warmth and enthusiasm made us feel valued as fans, almost friends. And then show, dramatic and funny, bawdy and personal and heart-wrenching, far beyond my expectations.

We’ve been so lucky to enjoy the talent over the years of performers from Itzak Perlman to Springsteen to Roy Orbison, Broadway and the Met to superb local theater. I try whenever possible to thank the performers, with John Denver’s “far out!” echoing in my mind.