All Summer in a Day – rounding out the week

Ah – my final two days sort of break my heart – I think it’s clear how much I love this part of the world – but they did not disappoint.

I woke in Old Saybrook and rushed back for an aggressive 10am pickleball game at Simon’s Rock – Bard College’s outpost for college students who are matriculating at very young ages and which boasts alums including both Joel and Ethan Coen, Ronan Farrow, and Alison Bechdel, who originated the Bechdel test.

Later, at lunch at the fancy country club one of my companions mused on the idea that five years ago he’d never even heard of pickleball. “And 10 years ago I’d never heard of kale,” he added as I dipped into my delicious salad. “You’re a bad influence!”

After a much needed shower, I headed once again to Tanglewood, this time for the BSO opening night. I passed the house that was for sale forever and I’ve always said should be mine, but was purchased – and immediately went viral – by a Black dancer and entrepreneur who’s long renovation of the property is being documented by Oprah Winfrey. Seeing cars in the driveway, I figured what the heck and knocked on the door. No one answered, but the door was unlocked – which to me seems good enough. The renovation was in it’s early stages and all there was to see were sawdust and drop cloths, so I slipped out, once again foiled in my mission to meet the new owner.

At TWD, I walked reporters around the grounds, who got an bonus interview when Keith Lockhart popped out of a dressing room, though he wasn’t meant to be on the grounds that day, and bellowed “La Drohan!” That evening’s press reception was to introduce the new BSO press office after a year of change. As the new director went through the list of new employees I stayed as quiet as could be in the back of the room, but press kept gesturing towards me. Finally, she said, “we have a press office emeritus with us today, Kathleen Drohan,” which was met with a round of applause. Lovely for me, but I’m certain not the best way for her to establish herself in the department.

The opening night concert was spectacular, spectacular with works by Wynton Marsalis, Prokofiev and the bombastic Tchaikovsky #4. With seats near the stage, I caught the eye of several musicians I hadn’t yet had the chance to say hello to and they would tip a bow or dip a horn my way (the equivalent of a hug while they’re still on stage). The night’s soloist, Daniil Trifinov, was all flashing fingers in the piano concerto. I rarely sit piano side, and now I see why everyone wants to. Holy Cow! Daniil went to the Cleveland Institute of Music, so I zipped backstage for a photo and proved my worth to the org who let me work remotely all week.

I sat at the concert with a former colleague who left the BSO around the same time as me, and later brought me to Prague to do pr for the Defiant Requiem in honor of the victims of Theresienstadt. I documented that trip on this blog. He recently returned to the BSO proving that I’m not the only one impacted by it’s magnetic pull.

Saturday morning began with an early morning dip in Lake Mansfield. With no one else in the lake, and the trees surrounding it, it was meditative and fortifying.

Then a trip to the fabulous farmer’s market where I indulged my love of buying over priced condiments. There I saw a beloved friend, a drummer with the Boston Pops, who also serves as the president of the musicians union. He gave me a book called “How to be a Better Asshole” for my birthday once and created a “security team” of musicians to take care of me when an over eager fan of the Pops deemed me the person between her and them and sent some pretty scary letters. But most wonderfully, one year when I went to see the Pops do a holiday concert at a stadium in Bridgeport, CT, a musician had the great idea to prank Keith, who had not yet seen me, but seating me on stage. I asked if it was ok and someone said, “we should check with the union, PAT – we have an idea….” He delightedly approved, with a wicked grin and, in front of 20,000 fans, I played the sleigh bells in Leroy Anderson’s classical Sleigh Ride (arguably the most important instrument). Keith doubled over laughing when he realized I was there and even gave me a solo bow!

Coffee with one dear publicist friend and lunch with another got me caught up on their lives and the insudstry gossip and occupied me til mid day. Then it was time for Big favor.

I have a celebrity neighbor and friend up here with whom the Boston Pops would like to work. While he hasn’t done a lot in the past couple years, one could say he was Big. I arranged the meetings and my friend and I were talking about John Williams and his Star Wars scores, always a staple for the Pops. He asked me some nuance about Star Wars. “I dunno” I replied with wink. “I was popular, I didn’t have to know about Star Wars.” Which brought laughter and a slight wince from my Star Wars loving famous friend.

Later in recounting my wit to another friend, his young daughter pipped up “Don’t yuck his yum!” Ah such a wise little being. As one who counts among my yums murder podcasts, catchy pop music suitable for late night or early morning solo dance parties, and movies with meet-cutes, happy endings, and, as often as not, Hugh Grant, my yums often come under fire. I often say there is no value in devaluing, but I have new mantra – Don’t yuck someone else’s yum!

The Pops performed a stirring concert version of the show Ragtime followed by a raucous cast and donor party. Before I overstayed my welcome, I pirouetted my way to the edge of tent, planning for an Irish goodbye, but instead stopping to hug just about everyone. There were lots of I love yous (words I say easily and often and everyone else should too), email mes, and let’s get together soons, and Tanglewood 2023 was a memory (unless I come back this summer which I probably will).

This morning there were two things to do before heading back to the “Land. First up, coffee at “The Rectory,” Hilary Scott’s home. So named for the pastor who lived there before Hilary’s parents bought the place in the mid-60s, the house features hidden stairways, secret passages, and remnant’s from Hilary’s dad’s career as a vaudvillian and after that as Norman Rockwell’s photographer, Hilary’s fantasy inspired art, and many, many photos of Tanglewood and the artists who have performed there over the decades. Hilary opens his house to young BSO staffers in need of a bad, and the kitchen was full of energy. Hilary’s son, whom I’ve known since he was a small boy, proudly introduced me to his lovely new wife and boisterous puppy, offered me a nip of whatever was in his flask, and called me “doll.” Time is fleeting.

Then to Mint, the best Indian restaurant on the planet and I’ve spent some time in India (perhaps I exaggerate, but I really love Mint), for their Sunday brunch buffet. An absolute must-do meal on my visits.

With my belly full and a handfull of fennel seeds, jumped on 90. 5 hours later I jumped off to break up the drive with an over night at Niagara Falls. Inspired by a friend who had recently made the journey, I tucked my passport away so I could experience the Falls from Canada. I spent a couple hours meandering and photographing, before jumping on a boat to watch. the nightly fireworks from the water. I love fireworks. I understand the environmental impact and I hate it, but I love fireworks. Because I was back stage with Brian Cox and JT on July 4, I missed the Tanglewood presentation and thought I’d have. to wait another year, but everything is coming up magic this trip!

Early tomorrow I head back to what is going to be a hard week for me – my crisis pr hat is ready for me to don. Tomorrow night I have a date with a good book and some deep conditioner (I know I talk about my hair too much, but I have a lot of it and it’s very vulnerable to weather and products which are not carefully chosen.) That could all change since I spotted a facebook post from a childhood camp friend at the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, and it won’t take much to twist my arm to meet her for a drink and catch up. But, what a time we’ve had.

Let’s recap – without even considering the added joy that in the past month I hiked my way through Jordan, saw theater in London, and cheered the Guardians at their home field – over this 10 day trip, I saw the BSO, the Pops, JT twice, Elvis Costello, Nick Lowe, Robert Plant, Allison Krauss, and the Berkshire Buskers; went to Jacob’s Pillow, the Farmer’s Market, and the movies; ate at the DreamAway, Red Lion Inn, Mint, Loebs, the Country Club, Mama Lo’s BBQ and Hilary’s house; climbed Monument Mountain, swam in Lake Mansfield, played pickleball, did pilates and walked a minimum. of 15,000 steps a day (except for the movie and wine day when I only walked 1,300); went to two fancy parties; hung out with half a dozen celebs (and brokered work for two of them); got a newspaper credit in the same paper which once printed bylines from my father and grandfather; saw waterfalls, fireworks, my step mom, sis, cousins, and uncountable friends; and even got another stamp in my passport.

I used to have 12 weeks like this every year when I worked for the BSO and oh how I miss that. But I am so aware of how lucky I am that I got a whole summer in a week and there’s still so much summer left!