Thursday afternoon, the sun is just starting to slant down. I’m walking down the train station platform, listening to my latest read: Americanah by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie (2016 commencement speaker, but I digress) when I see a familiar face. It’s Sarah, from my molecular genetics class, and she’s clutching a Styrofoam container…the kind of container doctors carry through the streets of Longwood Medical that make you wonder what could possibly be inside. Having carried my fair share of live adrenal glands on the street, I can tell you that often, you can’t even imagine. Sarah was bringing her hairpin DNA samples to Northeastern for further analysis. We’re both thesising, so we can relate to each other instinctively.
I rarely get a familiar Wellesley face on my commute to the lab. We have free transportation to MIT during the week, so few people take the train. Since I work far from MIT and close to the commuter rail line, I favor the train so I can cut a couple hours of commuting from Cambridge to Boston out of my week. It was nice to have company, and we sat down together and started chatting. Sarah and I had been in the Wellesley Brandeis Orchestra together first year. We both play the violin.
“You know, guess what I’m doing tonight?” I told her. “I’m seeing Hilary Hahn”.
I know the majority of the world does not know who Hilary Hahn is, so let me explain. Hilary Hahn is my favorite violinist. She is the Beyonce of the violin. Listen to her play the hardest piece in the world. Listen to her play the Bach Chaconne and it’s like going to church. In music, each note is a sine wave. A, for example, is 440 hertz per second. She is at the center of every note, never a hertz off, and as a result they ring so clear and beautiful. The notes run together lightning fast and that clarity is never lost.
Sarah looked up. “No, way! I’m going to see Hilary Hahn tonight.” And so that is the story of how four Wellesley women (we had each dragged a friend) from one biology class ended up at the Boston Symphony Hall. I can’t describe for you what it’s like to hear her play live: it’s something you just need to hear for yourself. What I can say is that later that night I found myself in a line TO MEET MY VIOLIN IDOL and I’m so glad I had my Wellesley friends to take pictures and even cry with me over the beauty that was this moment.
Afterwards, we went to Wendy’s, clutching Tchaikovsky Concerto CDs. They were signed.
Ever lovely yours,
Eleanor