There are moments that are fun and come often and regular, like birthdays, or Christmas. There are moments that make you smile, like finding a quarter on the ground, or hearing your favorite song on the radio. And then there are some moments so rich, so impossible, that you can hardly believe they're happening, even as you watch.
Today was one of those moments. Today, on the coin of the Timothy Dwight Chubb Fellowship, about 50 TD'ers, over a steak lunch at Union League Cafe, listened to the musings, and trumpetings, of Wynton Marsalis.
I had been waiting for this moment since we got our welcome letters to Timothy Dwight College over the summer. "We're having Wyntom Marsalis during second semester," it said. All I had to do to sign up for this private lunch with Wynton was to go into the Master's Office on Friday morning and sign my name on a list. Leaving Philosophy of Mind a little early, I hop across the New Haven Green to Union League Cafe, one of the nicest restaurants in New Haven, and a participant in the excellent Restaurant Week.
I walked down Sherman's Alley and found the side door for the cafe. It was locked, warning me that "Sorry, but the restaurant is closed for a private event." Hey, I thought, I'm part of this event! Let me in! Fortunately, I spotted a few fellow TD'ers who were crossing the street in my direction, heading into a larger, ornate entrance. I followed them inside.
I get in line, chat with TD'ers, and unexpectedly have my coat checked by the restaurant staff. Wow, I thought, this is the real deal. People are dressed in suits and ties, and my green jacket and button up shirt makes me feel a little bare. And there he is. The man himself. Chatting with some students and faculty.
When the meal began and he spoke, I was in awe. He spoke of the Jazz Attitude--how you have to keep your individualism--"If you got a flat head, you got a flat head"--while balancing the swing, keeping everyone in line, balancing the voices of the band members. He talked about growing up in New Orleans, and how he loved the town, how it shaped his life, and how Hurricane Katrina made him realize how much one can love a place, without realizing it. He talked of his views on rap music--ignorant, almost unmentionable, and certainly unimaginable 30 years ago.
He talked about his father, how he was a musician, and how when he started playing his own gigs and realized he had more fans than his father, that something was cooking. (He didn't mention that he went to Julliard at 17.) He talked about how the blending of cultures in New Orleans, Creole, Africans, descendants of slaves, white, with tensions of band music, funk music, all sort of strings pulling music into syncopated rhythms, improvisation, the art of jazz. He talked about how raising the scale by one half note was so hard--what was so close together was so far away, like a man and a woman. He talked about raising 20 and 18 year old sons, and the conversations they had, the cultural clashes. He talked about music education, calling for a revolution, raising standards and making a more educated listenership, and more educated public, so they could appreciate real music.
And then he played. You could hear the way he talked in the way he played the trumpet--both forms of communication it seemed, expression through sound. You could hear his personality--confident, yet modest, sure, steady, not afraid for a flourish or two. The trumpet was vintage, it seemed, not shiny like trumpets played by middle school students, but dull, with character.
My jaw was dropped the whole time. I was stunned. The delicious steak and pear, bacon, and Roquefort spinach salad faded from mind as I watched a master just be himself.
Thanks for Timothy Dwight College and the Chubb Fellowship for making this happen. This is a memory I think I'll cherish for a long while. With moments like these, you can't help but love TD, and love Yale.
If you would like to read more about Wynton, here's a link to a Yale publication's bulletin on the Chubb Fellowship. It has a resume of sorts--it will blow your mind.
Update: Our good friend, and past DJ of the Week, Anya, sent us this lovely picture of her, Ming, and Ari with the man himself! (Max: Actually, they were all DJ's of the Week!)
