Sacred Sounds

View of the Spreckels Organ Pavilion in Balboa Park, featuring a large outdoor organ with golden pipes against a decorative architectural backdrop.
Spreckels Organ, Balboa Park, San Diego, California

I’m from Chicagoland but love Southern California. San Diego to be exact. I used to plan a 2-day conference at the Ontario Convention Center and one at Skyline Church, so I was in the area quite often. I was there again recently and visited one of my favorite places, Balboa Park. If you’ve never been or haven’t heard of it you should look it up. There are many different activities and things to do, and the grounds are very beautiful. One of the best attractions to visit is the Botanical Building and Gardens. The building has been recently renovated which surprised me the last time I visited, and it caught me emotionally off guard. It’s been put back together now and just needs to start regrowing the foliage. However, this blog is not about that. 

Another attraction in Balboa Park is a huge outdoor organ called Spreckels Organ. Yep, an organ just like church except much, much bigger. It is located in the Spreckels Organ Pavilion and offers free concerts every Sunday at 2pm. Within and around the pavilion are amphitheater seats, open spaces where children run and play, and more beautiful gardens. While listening to a concert, you’ll hear the sounds of organists who can make it sing like you’ve never encountered before. It can truly draw you in and take you on an emotional rollercoaster if you appreciate music like this. Even if you don’t, you should stop for a moment to experience the magnitude that is this organ. There are 5,000 pipes ranging from twelve inches in length all the way up to 32 feet, and the organ is 100 years old. 

Events such as this one at Balboa are free. I’m not sure who the event planner is at the park, but they must be very busy or have a competent team as, at Balboa Park, you can attend an orchestra concert, a theater production, learn about countries around the world, watch this organ show, and so much more.

Another organ event I happened upon was in Germany. As my husband and I were sight-seeing, we saw a sign for an organ concert that just so happened to be starting within the hour. We wandered into one of the old, ornate, spectacular churches that dot the European cities and sat in a hard wooden pew. As we waited, we watched as the musician and his team moved the organ to the front and center of the room, gathered the accompanying equipment, and he took a seat. While he warmed up, the room filled with people, whether they saw the only marketing that was done – the A-frame sign outside – or they heard the organ beckoning them in.

It was an equally, if not more so, moving event. There’s just something about a powerful organ’s music echoing through the columns and statues and iron lights of an old church that can choke a person up. When I attended music school back in the day, my piano professor was also the resident organ aficionado, and every semester he would schedule an event on a Sunday afternoon and regale the students with organ music that could be heard for blocks.

Very few people play the organ anymore. Or, very few people play a traditional organ anymore. One with multiple levels of keys, stops that have to be pulled and pushed to create different sounds, and one where you take your shoes off so you can feel the base pedals with your feet since you’re not looking at them when you play. I know this because my aunt used to play the organ. I loved to be her page-turner. I could sit next to her on the bench and watch her move her limbs like she was an octopus; never looking away from the music but shifting her arms up and down the various levels of keys with swift fluidity, knowing which knobs to push and pull at the right time, and sliding her nylon-clad feet over the pedals as if her toes had eyes. Fascinating.

Even though organ music may not be your jam, I do hope you find yourself at least standing in the back of the room when you hear one in the near future. These events are few and far between and guaranteed the musician has been at it for years. You may be moved with emotions you didn’t know you had. Simply enjoy.

Have you had the opportunity to hear an organ lately? What is one takeaway you can share? Add it as a comment below or send me an email!

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Paint, Dance & Be Merry

Has anyone been to a painting party? Not like painting someone’s house, although that could be something someone might organize. I mean a party where a group of friends gather at a storefront downtown, have a glass of wine, and attempt to replicate a painting while an energetic artist provides instructions in such a way you can follow them. A place with a name like Palette and Pinot, Canvas and Cabernet, or Brushes and Bubbles.

How did this enterprise come to pass; a space where where you and your guests have a little something to drink and paint pictures? My guess is that one evening a creative person had friends over, they uncorked a bottle of wine, and needed some activity to pass the time so they decided to paint. During the evening, one of the entrepreneurial guests formed the idea that starting a business coordinating parties for women like this was a money-maker. The concept caught on and these venues have popped up in towns all around. Looking for something new to do with your friends on Friday night? Try this.

An artist opens a studio space for events. You and 6-8 of your friends arrive for a gathering of some sort: bridal shower, graduation party, or ladies’ night out. The host selects a painting from the artist’s arsenal, and everyone gets a canvas, easel, and art supplies. From here, the artist walks the group through creating identical paintings (in theory) while you all enjoy wine or cocktails, visit with one another, and have a good time.

When the artist completes her lesson, everyone turns their artwork around to show the group how close their masterpiece is to the original and how artfully they’ve followed instructions. It’s amazing to see the variations in the outcomes. Everyone heard the same instructions. Everyone saw the sample painting, yet there are as many differences as there are guests at your event. The rest of the evening is spent merry-making and munching while the paintings dry enough for guests to take them home.

An event of this nature is not that off the rails as it seems at first glance. We all used to paint and enjoyed it very much. In preschool and elementary school, we painted all the time. Anyone with young children can attest to that. Our little darlings bring home painting after painting; some with glitter, some recognizable, and some even make the refrigerator door. We were all taught to use our creativity and our colors, yet sadly, unless you pursued art as a career path, most kids stopped painting in middle or high school. Perhaps that’s why painting in a group setting as an adult feels out of the norm but holds a charm just the same. 

You know what else most adults don’t do anymore? Dance. Turn on some music and watch what happens to a toddler’s body. They can’t help but wiggle it. Nobody (or rarely anybody) takes dance lessons these days. Grown-ups don’t attend homecoming, prom, or a neighborhood ball. I occasionally dance in the privacy of my own home office or living room, but I wouldn’t be caught dead doing it in front of another human being. However, I can plan a dance with the best of them.

And, unless you’re part of an orchestra, band, or ensemble somewhere, the majority of adults no longer (if they ever did) play an instrument anymore. Why is that? We plan and sit through the harshest of elementary band concerts for our kids. We argue with Johnny to turn off his video games and practice his trombone. However, we are ok when Sally wants to trade her flute for soccer cleats. If you’ve read any of my previous blogs you know that I play the oboe with a local civic orchestra and have played my oboe for over 40 years. If you want to attend the symphony with your date, someone’s got to be on the stage to provide the music.

It’s never too late to pick up a new hobby. Dust off the flute in the closet. There are plenty of people who will help you with whatever you choose. Embrace the creative within, throw caution to the wind, and have some fun. Paint, dance, and be merry!

Do you have a creative hobby or have you been to one of the painting events? Share one thing that you enjoyed with us here or send me an email!

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That’s Gonna Leave a Mark

Generally a couple of days after an event I start to notice bruises on my body. Most of the time I have no recollection how they got there. I know that when I’m in “event mode” and lift a box with my thigh, pinch my finger in the clip of a lanyard, or hit my forearm on a table, in the moment think to myself “That’s going to leave a mark.” and move on. I really pay no attention at the time because I’m usually in the middle of something and don’t bother to stop and process it unless I’m gushing blood.

But, as I was pondering the thought of “leaving a mark” the other day, something else came to mind which did make me stop. As event planners, we want to create spaces and experiences that impact attendees in a memorable way. We work hard at building inviting room settings and engaging activations. We want attendees to leave the event changed somehow whether they have learned a practical tool to implement, discovered a new relationship, or improved their personal wellbeing. We want events to leave a mark.

Sit with that for a minute. Don’t rush to finish this blog. When thinking about the influence we have in this context it changes (at least for me) how we should approach event planning. I feel the weight of responsibility for an individual. It personalizes the process for me. It reminds me that the attendees are actually people, and in some way what I contribute to the event planning process has the opportunity to change someone, to leave a mark on someone’s life.

As a behind-the-scenes person I tend to be one to get things done; making sure tasks don’t fall off the radar, that deadlines are met, and that the project is staying on time and within budget. Thinking about how the attendee will feel or what new information they will walk away with is the focus of other team members. My role is to deliver the venues, rooms, resources, supplies, volunteers, and any other item needed to create the space and time for them to feel a certain way or learn a particular skill. Logistics. Operations. Procedures. That’s me.

Now, thinking through the lens that the role I play in helping secure those logistics and create the spaces can impact a person’s experience at the event to the point they leave changed in some way, that we’ve left a mark, alters my perspective. It’s not just a meeting room, it’s a room where someone might hear something from an industry expert that could be the solution to a problem they’ve been dealing with for months.

The questions I ask are different. Now it’s not only: What is the maximum number of chairs that can fit in this room set in theater-style? Does the speaker need a lapel or handheld mic? Do we need to schedule a volunteer to scan badges at the door or handout materials? Instead, as I think about my contribution to a person’s story, I ask questions like: What is the best room setup for them to receive this information? What type of audio/visual equipment will deliver the best quality sound so the entire room can hear clearly? Does the speaker have a handout, and if so, should we make pens available?

After 20 years of successful events, I have no regrets about how I have planned events nor do I feel bad about the methodology of my event planning process. If I’m going to do something, I give it my best. However, now, I am shifting to see the individual person attending the event and how what I am doing could potentially leave a mark on them. If that’s the case, I want it to be a positive one.

As an event planner, how do you feel about leaving a mark through the work you do?
Send me an email, I’d love to hear your thoughts.

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Dinner Dynamics

It’s the holidays. We have passed Thanksgiving and are coming up to Christmas. Facebook is filled with people posting photos of their gatherings; smiling children, everyone in matching family outfits, and perfectly cooked and staged dinners sitting on well-appointed tables. Other photos are of family members in the kitchen baking, seasoning a turkey, stirring gravy, peeling potatoes, beautifully decorating Christmas trees, and everyone is sipping hot chocolate. Very Norman Rockwell. 

I have been to large family parties where there were so many people in the house you couldn’t turn around. The furniture had to be moved out to make room for the food which was in every room, and the din was so loud I personally had to keep moving because I couldn’t hear any one particular conversation. Someone always arrived early, one relative was notoriously late, and still another was expected to bring a very specific traditional dish they’d been making for the last 45 years. For whatever reason, everyone usually ended up mashing into the kitchen, all talking at the same time. The hostess would take over a month to prepare, and it took her just as long to clean up.

I have also experienced the complete opposite end of the spectrum, the quiet dinner for two. My husband and I have celebrated other holidays without our families. In these cases, we generally forego the traditions and eat what we want, which is usually some form of seafood and steak. We rub the proverbial cat backwards, much to the chagrin of my Enneagram One friends. We sleep in, barely get out of our pajamas, play a game or two, and I sit at the kitchen countertop bar and watch as my husband does all of the cooking (it’s safer this way) while music plays in the background. 

What these dramatically different family dinner experiences have in common is that they both require some level of planning, though not necessarily the same amount. Because stores are usually closed on major holidays when people are gathering, the shopping needs to be done beforehand. This necessitates the menu be determined in advance and assignments given to those who are responsible for bringing additional dishes and desserts. Conversations have to be had, tableware and decor pulled from the recesses of the closets, homes tidied up, and invitations sent, even if just a quick email or text.

Planning checklists for family dinners probably don’t include printing wayfinding signs or sourcing linens, but they might. Coordinating catering or renting China and silverware doesn’t generally end up on the to-dos, but they could. Plans presumably don’t include arranging flights, making hotel reservations, renting cars, or designing welcome baskets, but again, these are not out of the realm of possibilities. Event planning was born somewhere. It hasn’t been an exclusive process for hotels, convention centers, and meeting professionals; people have been doing it long before it had a name or a full-blown industry.

Visiting someone’s home or inviting someone over, having a meal together, and sharing stories are some of the fondest and most vivid memories I have as far back as I can remember. Recalling particular dishes that appeared at holiday meals like corn casserole, pretzel salad, and lamb with mint jelly, can make me smile and cringe at the same time. I used to watch my mother iron linen tablecloths and napkins as she prepared, and my grandmother made sure I knew how to properly set a table.

I imagine some of our grandmas were great event planners and didn’t even realize it.

I’m sure you have a family dinner planning story. Share it here or send me an email!
I’d love to hear it.

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Hoofin’ It Home In Style

In my blog Party ‘Cause the Cows Came Home, I talked about the traditional Alpine cattle drive as the farmers bring their herds back down from the Alps into the farmlands for the winter months. During this Almabtrieb or Viehscheid the farmers dress the cattle up with fancy headdresses, wreaths, and large cowbells around their necks. They’re then paraded down the main streets of town as they head back to pasture. The farmers themselves are dressed in traditional Bavarian clothing of lederhosen and drndils. I happened to be in Austria this fall as an Alpine cattle drive was going on. Fascinating and scary at the same time.

As onlookers stood on the sides of the street, herds of two-ton animals with ornate evergreen headdresses and huge cowbells came tromping down the street. No barriers. No safety nets. No defense. I stepped out of my hotel and stood there, just my cell phone between me and these mammoth beasts. I have never felt so small as when standing on the sidewalk watching these animals watching me watch them parade through town. The farmers were always in close proximity, wielding sticks to keep the wayward cows in line. Occasionally, a cow or two had a mind of their own and wanted to taste the local greenery or a neighbor’s flowerbeds on their way by much to the chagrin of a home or shop owner looking on. One “farmer” had to be all of nine or ten years old leading a herd with his grownups close by, his cute little legs sticking out under his lederhosen.

There were no road closures, no barricades, no traffic officers to block the roads or move cars and people out of the cows’ path. People in the area pulled onto the street, saw the cattle coming, and just turned around and went the other way. No honking, no debate, no road rage. I feel like this scene would have unfolded very differently in the US. One of the shop owners was even handing out beer to the farmers as they walked by. Each one grabbing a stein, chugging it in its entirety, handing the glass back, and moving on without missing a step. 

On this particular day, although there appeared to be some pre-planning for this event since there were 3-4 herds all being paraded through town on the same day at the same time, I did not encounter any of the traditional accompanying festivities. No beer tent, no market shopping, or rides for the kiddies. The townsfolk of this tiny spa village got a pass for having a small population and forewent the frivolities. The spectacle was certainly not diminished because there wasn’t a craft fair or an inflatable in sight.

I did enjoy the spontaneous parade I found myself a part of that day. It really is a sight to behold seeing the time and energy that must go into making the headdresses, which has to be done in the days just before the parade because the flowers and greenery are so fresh you can smell them over the cows. The thundering of the cattle tromping down the street truly shakes the ground underneath. And din from those enormous cowbells? It is like standing near the belltower of a church with an overzealous bellringer. They are loud and deep and ring across the pastures, down the lane, and echo off of the Alps.

Have you seen one of these cow parades up close and personal? Share your experience here or send me an email!

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PS. The photos are all from my trip! More at tracybaer.com.