“Hope is kindled!” says Gandalf when the proud land of Gondor, brought low, finally signals the need for help from the land of Rohan … and Rohan answers, yes!

We, here and now, need a kindling of hope.

There are always a thousand good reasons to be without hope, both in our personal lives and in our life as a nation, culture, a species. I needn’t list those reasons here.

The situation is complex, yes, but the question before each of us is simple. Either we sink into depression and lassitude or we kindle hope.

I love that verb “kindle” because it suggests building a little fire to keep a vast cold at bay.

In writing this music for woodwind quintet, which I hope you’ll let me share with you today, I tried to create a musical metaphor for the kindling of hope. For a time only four of the instruments are playing; they assemble the dry little sticks for the fire and then, when the horn finally enters with an inspiring call, the match is struck and we feel the warmth that comes with the kindling of hope.

The piece celebrates our ability to kindle hope, even at the worst of times … which are, of course, precisely the times when we need hope most keenly.

There are many ways of expressing hope. Music is one of the best.

This recording was made at the outdoor home concert we recently hosted, as was the case with last week’s featured piece. The acoustics are not perfect; you will hear a few audience noises and the crickets chirping in the background. But perfection is over-rated. I think the voices of the crickets bring something pretty wonderful to this recording. We feel that life is burgeoning all around us, even as the leaves are dropping from the trees.

Come to think of it, crickets are hopeful creatures. I doubt if it’s a conscious decision; it’s probably sewn into their DNA. Surely they know, however dimly, that winter is coming and that soon, with the first hard frost, they will all go silent … only to be, in effect, reborn with the spring.

Hear that same notion expressed in the exalted prose of Odell Shepard. He says, “they do not dwindle and pine into the grave but go down trooping their colors and shouting hosannas as if they had some expectation of joy, some intuition that from this dying world unimaginable life may spring as the new year springs from the ruins of the old.”

May your capacity for hope be kindled. To hear the In Vista Winds performing this new music, click on the link above.

There's also a link to the full score.

🎶 🎶 🎶 🎶 🎶

A moment of silence, please. The great Peter Schickele has passed away.

In the half century since first I heard him “concert-casting” Beethoven’s Fifth, he has been prominently ensconced in my pantheon of heroes.

A comic genius, he gave us “A Bach Portrait” and “Oedipus Tex,” which I would call masterpieces -- “musicalologically speaking wise,” as he said.

He offered us laughter, yes, but something else as well. He brought us hope; he opposed “the morbid and the hectic.” I borrow that phrase from another prolific comic genius, PG Wodehouse.

In “Blandings Castle,” one of his 90 novels, Wodehouse’s character Monty Montrose says,

“I am not a man who often speaks of these deeper things. On the surface, no doubt, I seem careless and happy-go-lucky. But I do hold very serious views on a citizen’s duties in this fevered modern age. I consider that each one of us should do all that lies in his power to fight the ever-growing trend of the public mind towards the morbid and the hectic.”

I envision Peter Schickele ginning and nodding in agreement.

Though neither of these marvelous artists flout the word “hope,” both brought into being a body of work that sprang from a hopefulness deeply felt, from an optimism undaunted.

We don’t get far without hope, which is another word for optimism. When hope is drained and unreplenished, we can barely rouse ourselves, get dressed, have our coffee, begin our day.

The times through which Schickele and Wodehouse lived were dreadful.

Our times are dreadful. Fear, anxiety, uncertainty, insecurity are our constant companions. There are a thousand good reasons to despair, both in our personal lives and in our life as a culture, as a species. I needn’t list them here.

We are not exceptional in this. Indeed, ‘twas always so. There have been times far worse than ours. When the Ice Age held the earth in an endless grip, we barely hung on. When the Bubonic plague killed off a third of the population of Europe, it surely seemed to the remaining two thirds that the end of humanity was at hand. Another six months, they must have thought, and we’ll all be gone.

Comparatively, our times are paradisiacal.

The times certainly don’t feel paradisiacal. Facing dread square in the face, what must we do to get on with our lives?

“Each one of us should do all that lies in our power” to kindle hope. I love that verb “kindle” because it suggests building a little camp fire to ward off the cold, an act that connects us to our ancestors who came through the Ice Age.

Writing new music in the face of all that we dread is one small way of kindling hope. In the piece I want to share today, titled “Hope is Kindled,” four instruments gather the kindling and carefully arrange it in the shape of a teepee. Then, when the horn enters at :38 with an inspiring horn call, the match is struck and the warmth that springs from this particular kindling of hope is felt by musicians and listeners alike.

The piece celebrates our ability to kindle hope, even at the worst of times … which are, of course, precisely the times when our need of hope is most keen.

I admire what Schickele and Wodehouse achieved. I look up to them, humbly. I am not their equal but I can do my best. I can be true to my vision. I can kindle hope.

My HOPE is that this piece, scored for woodwind quintet and stirringly played by the Cincinnati ensemble, “In Vista Winds,” will kindle hope in you.

This recording was made at our “home concert” last October. Players and audience were seated in our garden. Listen carefully and you’ll hear the crickets in the background. Now, THERE is a community -- the community of crickets -- that never lacks hope.

The members of In Vista Winds, all Cincinnatians, are:
Flute = Glenn Gollobin
Oboe = Tim Vincze
Clarinet = Ken Poleyeff
Horn = Danielle Cain
Bassoon = Wendy Haas

To hear “Hope is Kindled” played by “In Vista Winds,” click on the link above.

There's also a link to the PDF of the score.