Finally, it was back to more-or-less regular music-making. Although one could still see signs of Covid with different restrictions in place at restaurants, in public gathering places, and in concert halls, everyone seemed happy to be back doing what they love.

The first stop on a three-week tour was in Hannover, Germany. This northern city is home to my longtime agents in Europe, KD Schmid. Ever since I began conducting, they have overseen most aspects of my career in Europe. I was quite sure I had never conducted in the city where they are headquartered.

In the month after my brother’s passing, much of what I accomplished was colored with loss. Although I was always able to do what was asked of me, there were moments of heaviness when I became distracted by wonderful memories of Fred’s life. But carry on we must.

For the second time, it was my privilege to conduct the final round of the International Violin Competition of Indianapolis. Under the expert leadership of Glen Kwok and chairman Jaime Laredo, this has become the most prestigious of all the violin contests in the United States. It attracts competitors from around the world, with six players advancing to the last round.

As planned, August was a relatively quiet month for music-making. In fact, my only scheduled appearance was in Chicago, where I helped celebrate the 50^th anniversary of the National Flute Association at their annual convention. In addition to conducting five works for various flutes and orchestra at Symphony Center, I also gave the conference’s keynote address.

Who doesn’t like the flute? No one, according to the attendees of various recitals, masterclasses, ensemble performances, and other activities related to the instrument. Even though I did not participate in the full range of flute events available, by the time we played the last notes of the concert, I was longing for a contrabassoon.

Quite some time ago, I planned for this summer to be one of peace and quiet, with very little conducting and a lot of time to focus on other projects. For the most part, this is working out well.

On the book front, I have nearly completed a fourth volume of my writings. Primarily a memoir, Words Without Songs fills in some major gaps in what I have written previously about my life, with lengthy chapters about my father and mother as well as one about my brother. Because so many people have asked about my family’s relationship to Frank Sinatra, there is also a chapter devoted to “The Voice.” In addition, I recount various pranks my cohorts and I used to pull, some of them quite outrageous.

For a complete change of pace, I decided to take most of the summer off, starting in June and going through mid-September. I agreed to participate in a couple isolated events, but they are not with the usual suspects. One of them occurred in early June.

I was sitting around, working on the two books—yes, I have almost finished one and started another—when an interesting proposal popped up on my computer screen. To comprehend what it really meant, you must understand that the cultural history of Missouri is quite complicated. We are only 300 miles south of Chicago, but Memphis is just down river. Are we considered part of the South or the North?