All I can say is that the future of classical music is in excellent hands. 

On Sunday, May 21, I served as one of three judges for the American String Teachers Association SF Chapter's competition finals, here in Berkeley at the Crowden School. Students of violin, viola, cello, double bass, guitar, or harp compete in two divisions: Youth (age 14 and under) and Junior (age 15-18). (There is also a Senior division that did not hold a competition this year.) This was my second time judging the ASTA finals, in addition to helping select finalists from a preliminary round of video auditions.

At the end of such a bitter and stressful campaign season, I was grateful for the chance to bring some music into that final, breathless moment before the decision was made. ​And that night, like most in our Bay Area liberal stronghold, I was deeply disappointed by the results. But throughout that difficult night, I tried to reach deep into the well of peace that Bach had given me earlier that day. In moments of stress and worry—so often needless, fleeting, or premature, but no less difficult for that knowledge—we need to take refuge in something timeless. Something impervious to the cares of the present, immune to our fears for an uncertain future. A flower turned toward the sun, a hug from a child, a few notes written to the glory of God in a distant century: there is healing, and hope, in all these things.