The Concert

A friend’s friend’s brother gave a concert last night. This friend’s friend was from Shanghai, studied music in China and found he was not talented enough to be a good musician, so turned to do something he can do better—making violins in the United States.

His brother is now an achieved violinist in a sense. As a first-generation immigrant, he is obviously successful. (For me, an immigrant musician is successful if he or she starts to see his or her music more than the means of living. This guy is obviously more than that successful.) From the leaflet I learn that he is teaching at Temple University and Biblical College, and performs with the renowned Philadelphia Orchestra sometimes. The concert was given at the hall attached to a residence, a big old-fashioned house in a decent neighborhood. It accommodates around 100 people. When we got there, the room was already well filled up. Among the audience were Chinese parents with their children, some of whom are the musician’s students.

I liked the performance though I didn’t really understand the Tchaikovsky he played. I am an illiterate in music. I had to follow other people to avoid clapping at the improper moment. I guess he did a great performance since an old white lady sitting beside me stood up applauding as the concert ended, and a young man beside her kept taking notes during the performance.

After the show, many Chinese went up to talk to him, and took pictures with him. I guessed he must feel very happy with the sincere admiration from people from his home country. It was like you succeed and got recognition from your family with their warm congratulations. It was nice to see such a scene in the United States.

The owner of the house interested me. What he does is what I want to do some day—do something for people or things that you really care. He is an old man in his late 70s. My friend told me that he was a constructor and never married. He loves music and built this hall for talented young musicians to perform and free for any audience to attend. I saw this old man at the beginning of the concert while he introduced the musician to the audience. He is a soft-speaking amiable man. Later when the concert ended, he went to the back to serve drinks to the audience. I got a drink for myself, thinking about if I should offer to help. But I didn’t do so. I wish I had.