Our Musical Millennial is ensconced at grad school at the University of Miami.
I was in Miami for 36 hours last week to help him move in. I have a story or two to tell about pulling a trailer from Austin to Miami … but not now.
Today, I’m sharing a couple of things: a picture that captures the crazy COVID-19 quarantine situation we are all experiencing, and the beauty of the music school at the University of Miami. These things may not seem related, but they are.
I had about 90 spare minutes on my son’s move-in day and made a quick trek to the University of Miami to see it and develop my mental picture of where he’ll be for the next 21 months.
There were no parking spots, and moving trucks were everywhere, so I just stopped on the street, put on my flashers, locked the doors and got out to take pictures. I didn’t think I’d get towed if I was quick about it, and there was room to go around my car. I was a parking felon!
The Performance Hall
The very first building was the performance hall.
My son will be playing there, one day, once the social distancing rules are lifted. It’s a beautiful building.
I walked up to see if I could get in. Of course not. But wow, the inside of the building was inviting. You can see the keyboard art on the wall. The Frost School of Music music stand on the right labels the scene, and the hand sanitizer adds the coronavirus perspective.
Locked and Silent
I took a few shots without myself in the reflection, but then I realized that it would be much more authentic if I was shown there, on the outside looking in, locked out of the performance hall.
This is the COVID-19 reality today, for audiences, for musicians, for stage hands and sound mixers and ticket takers. The performance hall is locked and silent, and we are all outside, waiting.
Live the Dream
But despite those pensive reflections, it wasn’t a downer experience to see what a beautiful environment my son will inhabit.
Just the opposite.
U of Miami is gorgeous!
This is the place where my son can live his grad school dreams.
COVID-19 will be a distant memory by the time he finishes.
That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it.
© 2020, Glover Gardens