This is a special spot where autumn lingers on Buena Vista Hill's lower western flanks, and thus the sweet gum trees hold their leaves and frame a view of the Sutro Greenbelt and the tower on the hill behind it ... I have never been higher than its highest main street on its lower flanks ... but I am eyeing it ... new horizons, new places to walk ... but in the meantime, the simple finer things of an early spring also somehow on my favorite hill were sufficient for a morning walk...
My business that day took me to the highest main street on the Sutro Greenbelt -- no higher would I go, but there is a view point there at University of California San Francisco where I could get quite a view on such a day ... and as I was walking in that busy place, a beautiful and familiar voice undercut the noise ... someone was gently vocalizing in the halls, quietly, but because so deep, notable ...
"He was up hiking and singing above the children's hospital ... and every child in pain there at last forgot that and went to sleep, along with their exhausted parents," someone said near me. "I think he sings down in the park quite often, but he has been a blessing since he has walked the greenbelt over here ... his voice comes down like an angel's ... and someone hiking up there heard him playing the guitar!"
I knew this was coming, because there are arrangers arranging Schubert's lieder for guitar, and his lovely "Standchen" -- his Serenade -- has gotten the treatment. Adam Cicchillitti here plays his own arrangement, and baritone Philippe Sly pairs wonderfully with him.
"He must be a retired opera singer or something!" another said. "I mean, the way he projects his voice cuts through these walls like they are butter ... but then the voice is butter-smooth at the same time!"
"Whoever he is, and why, he is a blessing -- but no one has ever seen him -- that's a big voice for an invisible man!"
The voice was humming a familiar tune but growing fainter ... he did have a life of his own, and sometimes, my life and his intersected in passing. So I went on to where I was going.... right over the parking garage, looking north...
... and the only drawback of the place was instantly overcome ... the Ghost of Musical Greatness Past, in the shade, announced his presence not by casting a shadow, but by the pool of his warm light softly overtaking me. Because it was very bright in front of me, the light part was too subtle, but the warmth was notably notable, and of course the voice left no doubt.
"Guten Morgen, Frau Mathews," he purred. "What a view today!"
"Guten Morgen -- yes, it is," I said as I looked up at him with a smile. "A winter rarity -- in the summer, the sun would be off in front of us, but this is perfect for the northern view."
"I wonder if you have considered what you are seeing, Frau Mathews ... that is close to two decades of walking in front of you, between you and the Marin Headlands beyond, because that is the De Young Museum peeking out to the west, and the Presidio further north, and Alvord Lake, the Panhandle, and Lone Mountain just off to the east, and beyond that, downtown San Francisco, and somewhere off in that great northeastern expanse is your home...
"... while again looking west there is Strawberry Hill in the middle of Blue Heron Lake, and beyond it are Elk Glen and Mallard and Spreckels Lake, and more to be discovered, all the way to that deep blue line that is the Pacific Ocean ...
"... and that is, to borrow from Schubert and Goethe, your little ring ... a vast expanse that fits from here within a single view on much higher Sutro Hill ... a higher view gives us perspective."
"Wow," I said.
"What can you not see from here?" he said.
"We are on a line with Buena Vista Hill, so we cannot see that," I said.
"But you saw that this morning," he purred. "What else?"
"The hill behind us," I said.
"Very good, Frau Mathews. It is beyond your perception in the moment ... but you will discover it as you go, and then one day you will stand and look back and see. The ring of human life is small, with high perspective, but every inch must be discovered -- every new horizon is there to be explored."
"You mentioned Schubert and Goethe," I said. "Dare I hope for 'Grenzen der Menschheit,' for more instructions about the limitations of mankind, and how we should be content on that little ring ... for when you sing it, I can hear how deep and worthy of contentment that is, like the view in front of me is a whole world of life at ground level."
He laughed gently.
"You are looking deeper into the lessons of previous years, Frau Mathews, and now you have met Goethe's intent: not merely to warn mankind against playing God, but also to encourage that contentment in everything that is ours to enjoy ... it is a little ring, but it rolls endlessly ... and, for those so called it can expand quite a long way ... well, I will get to that a little later ... one favorite Schubert lied, my dear, coming up."
At UCSF, the elevator generally goes down from above the parking structure, but would you believe that after eight minutes of him singing, we got on that thing and it went up to Cloud 9?
"Look down, meine liebe Dame ... that is der kleiner Ring, considered in terms of it being San Francisco ... but hold on ... did you know this thing can go to low earth orbit?"
"UCSF is going to present you one whopper of a maintenance bill," I said.
"Well, what do you think I have been singing in the park for all these years as K.M. Altesrouge -- to have money to provide you supper, but also, world-class experiences!"
"You are completely shameless!" I said as I started laughing.
"Fortune favors the bold!" he retorted, and had me laughing all the way into low earth orbit.
"I will pay the bill and gladly, meine liebe Dame, so that I may I present you the earth itself as the little ring -- the horizon at the curvature of the ring!"
The terminator -- the day-night line -- was visible, and beyond it, the stars ...
"Now THAT escalated quickly!" I said.
He checked his watch.
"Actually right on time, Frau Mathews --."
He snapped his fingers, and the elevator became an orchestra box, domed of course to protect us from the vacuum of space, as we re-positioned across the night line to have the stars around us, with the beginning of a dawn just as the horizon.
"It is evening in Germany," he said, "and the Munich Philharmonic Orchestra is playing Beethoven's fifth piano concerto. My thinking is that for this view, that will work."
I smiled.
"I never could understand what emperor of Beethoven's time he would have thought worthy of that grand opening -- but you know audiences have their own ideas, and thus the nickname 'Emperor' stuck. I rather think a sunrise from space would definitely fit it better."
"I have more in mind, actually ... but we will get through the first movement, and see what happens in the second ... and after that dream of loveliness, I will get you home after the third. A blast from your past, Frau Mathews ... you remember conductor Kurt Masur, and as a teenager you enjoyed seeing Alfred Brendel in concert!"
"Indeed ... my third was nearly my last ... he was the first person to play in my hearing Opus 109 and Opus 111, and also played a Bach/Busoni encore to add to that depth ... I never will forget ... he was quite a guide through where music takes one to the verge of eternity in Beethoven, and then let you look across in Bach!"
"Well then, I think he can certainly be trusted with the 'Emperor'!"
For traveling the universe at the speed of thought of those given to deep thought, there is nothing like the "Emperor" concerto ... we left orbit at the end of the first movement, and in the second, we saw the moon, the sun, and Earth, getting smaller until it was the famous "pale blue dot" that was among Voyager 1's last images.
"The little ring, with perspective," I said.
"Exactly," he said. "Perspective makes us aware of the beauty and fragility of what we have, even in our troubles, and grateful."
So we stayed there in that orbit through the Solar System, his arm around me, my head on his immense shoulder, through the second movement, the stars all around playing the music of the spheres as well, not out of tune at all ... until between the second and third movement, when he said, in a dreamy voice well down into his double-depth range, "I am so glad you took those pictures today, Frau Mathews, especially the easterly one..."
"Why?" I said, completely unsuspecting until I saw the twinkle in his eyes as he opened them.
"I can't see where you live exactly, from here, and in my present state of existence, spectacles won't help."
I must have laughed halfway through the third movement, halfway home -- and then got there and started laughing again when this was breaking news:
"Recent reports cited a meteor not seen on any Solar System map entering the earth's atmosphere on a trajectory that would have brought it down in the Pacific Ocean near San Francisco ..."
"Perspective!" came the colossal bass voice, who then laughed a whole thunderstorm report out of a clear blue sky before he stepped across the stars, back home.