2020 Winter Concert

Cadet Strings Ensemble

Sandra Groce, Conductor

Believe                                                       Ballard/Silverstri arr. Story

Winter from "The Four Season"                Antonia Vivaldi arr. Madelyn Green

2012                                                           Samuel Jett (Conducted by Samuel Jett)

Hallelujah Chorus from "The Messiah"    G.F. Handel arr. Newbold

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West Virginia Youth Orchestra

Robert Turzziani, Conductor

Selections from "L'Arlessienne"            Georges Bizet
     Pastorale
     Farandole

Courtly Dances from "Gloriana"            Benjamin Britten
     March
     Coranto
     Lavolta
     March

Dance of the Tumblers                           Nicolai Rimsky-Korsakoff

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Those Winter Sundays by Robert Hayden

Those Winter Sundays


Sundays too my father got up early
and put his clothes on in the blueblack cold,
then with cracked hands that ached
from labor in the weekday weather made
banked fires blaze. No one ever thanked him.

I’d wake and hear the cold splintering, breaking.
When the rooms were warm, he’d call,
and slowly I would rise and dress,
fearing the chronic angers of that house,

Speaking indifferently to him,
who had driven out the cold
and polished my good shoes as well.
What did I know, what did I know
of love’s austere and lonely offices?

At a Friend’s Burial by Antonio Machado

They gave him earth one horrible afternoon
in the month of July, under the fiery sun.

One step from the open grave
there were roses with rotting petals
among sour smelling
red geraniums. The sky
pure and blue. A strong
dry breeze was blowing.

The two grave diggers
lowered the coffin,
hanging heavily from thick ropes
to the bottom of the grave . . .

And on resting it made a loud thud,
solemn in the silence.

The blow of a coffin on the earth
is something perfectly serious.

Heavy dirt clods broke
on the black box . . .

The air carried
white breath from the deep grave.

—And you, shadowless now, sleep and rest,
long peace to your bones . . .

Finally,
sleep a still and true sleep.

Matthew 6:26 Behold the fowls of the air: for they sow not, neither do they reap, nor gather into barns; yet your heavenly Father feedeth them. Are ye not much better than they?

I'm not sure how or why, but I've started the hobby of birding. Before I started birding a few months ago, I would have called it bird watching. The hobby I enjoy involves identifying and cataloging birds. When I go for a walk, I'll look for birds and try to identify them. I'll try to spot some identifying markers and then when go home, do a little research and see if I can find out what I saw. I'll read about the bird and its characteristics and on the app I have, I can listen to their calls.

When I get interested in something, I tend to go all in -- go big or go home is usually the way I go about things. I'd rather not do something at all than do something half way. Which I have found can help me, but if it is turned the wrong direction, can hurt me. So part of my going all-in is listening to bird podcasts. Yes, really. The more I read and learn about birds, the more fascinating I find them. The podcasts are really short and often, pretty interesting. This morning, I listened to this particular episode three times on the way to work, and laughed with joy on the first listen, laughed with contempt on the second, and laughed with thanksgiving on the third. Here's the transcript:

Here’s a story about a hummingbird: the Purple-throated Carib. 

It lives on many of the Antillean Islands in the Caribbean, and the male and female birds have differently shaped bills. The female’s is long and deeply curved. The male’s is shorter and straighter. And this one species of bird has a specialized relationship with two different species of flowering Heliconia plants. 

One plant has a blossom that has a long, curved corolla — an excellent fit for the bill of the female Purple-throated Carib. The second plant has a flower that’s an excellent fit for the male bird. It delivers a larger dose of nectar, which the male needs because it’s 25% bigger than the female. The birds help pollinate the flowers, so the relationship has a payoff for the Heliconia, too. 

This is an example of co-evolution, where different species evolve in conjunction with each other, continually matching each other’s changing adaptations. When research documenting it was published in 2003, one scientist remarked that this Carib-Heliconia relationship was the most convincing evidence for co-evolution that he’d ever seen. “The only thing better,” he said, “would be if I could live for a million years and watch it actually happen.” 

Here is a great example of how what you believe and your founding principles color how you see the world  and interpret what you see. It also shows that neutrality is a myth. The Scientist can clearly see how both the birds and the flowers adapt themselves by Evolution's mighty hand to suite one another in the tropical ecosystem. Where did that information come from? How does he know this is what happened?  He sees conjunction evolution when he considers the birds.

When I see the birds, I consider their Maker. Then, I'll consider the flowers and their Maker. I see design, not adaptation. I see Wisdom, not chance. I see complementary purpose, not survival of the fittest.

We are both looking at the same evidence and both have taken our presuppositions and come to wildly different explanations. What he sees as the most convincing evidence for co-evolution to me is most convincing evidence that God is awesome in his creative purpose. The scientist speaks a little bit of truth when he said the only thing better was if he could live millions of years to watch it happen. In other words, no one has actually witnessed this and it can't be tested or proven, it has to be taken by faith. I'm sure he would love to be able to watch and observe his theory, but alas, he cannot. He must take his doctrine by faith.

I come to the birding binoculars with presuppositions to. I presuppose that God exists and has revealed Himself in His Word and that we what can know, we know because God has revealed it and Jesus has rose from the dead. I look at the world through those lenses. But don't be fooled. Science has its own presuppositions, they just won't admit it.

Namby-Pamby Oaths

"Then a most surprising thing occurred. The captain broke loose upon the dead man like a thunderclap. Oaths rolled from his lips in a continuous stream. And they were not namby-pamby oaths, or mere expressions of indecency. Each word was a blasphemy, and there were many words. They crisped and crackled like electric sparks. I had never heard anything like it in my life, nor could I have conceived it possible. With a turn for literary expression myself, and a penchant for forcible figures and phrases, I appreciated, as no other listener, I dare say, the peculiar vividness and strength and absolute blasphemy of his metaphors."

The Sea-wolf by Jack London

The Quitter by Robert Service

When you’re lost in the Wild, and scared as a child,
And death looks you bang in the eye,
And you’re sore as a boil, it’s according to Hoyle
To cock your revolver and . . . die.

But the Code of a Man says: “Fight all you can,”
And self-dissolution is barred.
In hunger and woe, oh, it’s easy to blow . . .
It’s the hell-served-for-breakfast that’s hard.

“You’re sick of the game!” Well, now, that’s a shame.
You’re young and you’re brave and you’re bright.
You’ve had a raw deal!” I know – but don’t squeal,
Buck up, do you’re darndest, and fight.

It’s the plugging away that will win the day,
So don’t be a piker, old pard!
Just draw on your grit; it’s so easy to quit:
It’s the keeping-your-chin-up that’s hard.

It’s easy to cry that you’re beaten – and die;
It’s easy to crawfish and crawl;
But to fight and to fight when hope’s out of sight –
Why, that’s the best game of them all!

And though you come out of each gruelling bout,
All broken and beaten and scarred,
Just have one more try – it’s dead easy to die,
It’s the keeping-on-living that’s hard.

Good news/bad news

My son has epilepsy. This is bad news, but not part of my good/bad dichotomy. 

For various (valid) reasons, we thought he may have a brain tumor. Family history pointed in that direction. The C-T scan showed nothing, but still, I wanted an MRI to be sure. The doctor was 100% positive that he didn't have a tumor, but in my mind, you cannot be 100% anything until you illuminate other possibilities if you are unable to prove positively that your diagnosis is correct. I was afraid that we were going down the wrong treatment track because we missed the double junction switch. If you are supposed to be on the main line and you are traveling down the branch line, the solution to the problem is not to go faster down the wrong destination. Increasing the medicines could be going down the wrong diagnosis path, which was not going to help us. I had them (to take the train metaphor further than I had originally intended) to stop and go back to the station to make sure we are going the right direction. 

The MRI came back totally normal. No tumors, not lesions. Nothing. Great news, I was terrified. Now that I have been proven wrong by the doctor, we are back to square one. No one knows why it is happening and no one knows what to do about it. His medicines are making matters worse. Good news, no cancer. Bad news, we don't know why he is having seizures and we don't know why they are getting worse. 

So, there were are, kind of back at square one. Going to take patience and grace. Thankfully Jesus is the God and giver of both.