Monday, December 18, 2017

Not my Christmas Miracle

This is not my own Christmas miracle story, but it is a true story, told by my friend Linda Fairbanks of Raymond, Alberta. This happened to her cousin, James Wilding, who is a postal worker in upstate New York:

A postal Christmas story...(and it's true.)
I'm training a new sub at the post office, and on Saturday and he's casing the mail (that's sorting the letters and magazines and all the other stuff people complain about all the time). He holds up a piece of mail and asks, "what should I do with this?" 'Piece of mail' was being generous. It was two pieces of paper...the front and back of an envelope. I explained that even though it's just the shredded remains of an envelope with no contents, we still have to deliver it as it has an address and postage on it. So I show him where the body bags are (plastic bags to hold the damaged remains printed with an apology message for mangling the item and a statement declaring "we care" which no one actually believes because we are the "huge, bureaucratic, unfeeling corporation". I really don't like having to do this because I work with people that really do take great care with the job they do. It's just that sometimes the sorting machines will damage one of the millions of pieces of mail that get processed daily.
An hour or two pass when I'm approached by a co-worker from a few cases away. "Do you know these people?" She had been sorting her mail and had come across a Christmas card with a few names (no surnames), some school pictures, and no address. Nope. I don't recognize the pictures and with just 4 random first names...not a clue. And then I thought (and you probably see where I'm going with the story) "she has a card with no envelope or address and I have the remains of an envelope with no contents...I wonder..." I searched through the mail my sub had cased to find the plastic bag with the envelope bits. No first name on the envelope, just "The 'X' Family." So I pulled out other pieces of mail and found one that had a name that matched one of the names in the card. A little exciting. Both the card and the envelope were written with a non-standard pen color (red). A little more excited. And finally (even though I'm not a handwriting expert) there were several letters common to both card and envelope that had some pretty unique characteristics. Very excited. Enough that I feel confident that we have a match.
What are the chances that my new sub would ask me about a specific piece of mail? That a co-worker several cases away would find a piece of mail and come show it to me (and nobody else first)?
So I reunited the envelope shreds and card and pictures in the body bag to deliver them. The cynical part of me can only think that this family will never know what an amazing thing just happened. That when they see this cheesy 'we care' bag full of their shredded Christmas card they'll think that "the rotten mailman ripped open our card looking for a gift card or money to steal" and that's not the case at all. It was a postal miracle that this all came together the way it did.
...And then I thought, "how many times have I done that?" How many times have I been upset with something in my life because it wasn't perfectly the way I had expected it to be rather than acknowledging that God had accomplished a miracle by getting it to me at all.
Something to ponder.
So that's my postal miracle Christmas story.

Tuesday, November 28, 2017

Something worth remembering

A few weeks ago, a high school friend of David and Nancy posted about her feelings about her brother's wedding. It was really hard for her because she is divorced, and while she mostly is happy about that, sometimes it is just hard. And her brother's wedding was one of those hard times. She still did lots of things to help, and went to it, but it just was hard and she had lots of sad thoughts mixed in with happy thoughts. Anyways, she wrote in her blog about her feelings, and some random person commented, saying, "What is your point?"--was she trying to hurt the feelings of her brother and his wife.

Well, she ruminated on that, and today posted about the answer to that why--and it was lovely, as she talked about life in all its mess--the good, the bad and the ugly--and how she wanted her blog, which is essentially her journal--to reflect the truth of her life, her sad times as well as her happy times. She talked about her perfectionist syndrome: "If I am just really, really good and do everything right, then my life will be perfect." But of course, it won't be. Because life isn't meant to be perfect. Life is messy, and good things happen to bad people, and bad things happen to good people, and that is just the way it is.

Anyways, she posted a link to her blog on Facebook, and one of the comments there was just so awesome, so worth remembering, so I am going to post it here, so that maybe one day I can find it again, if I need to read it again.

Amy R. Nelson One of my favorite scripture stories is Ether 6 where it describes the journey of the Jaredites to the promised land. It was a journey they got to undertake because of their righteousness, but it was a really hard one. At times they were buried in the sea, sea monsters were knocking their boat, the wind was fierce and the waves really strong. But then there is a line in verse 8 that gets me every time "And it came to pass that the wind did never cease to blow towards the promised land while they were upon the waters; and thus they were driven forth before the wind." That same wind that was causing all their difficulty was the wind that made it possible for them to reach the promised land. If the wind had been calmer their journey might have been more comfortable, but they might not have ever arrived at their destination. 

I love what this teaches me about my life. The same difficulties that cause me so much distress are the exact same things that are helping me to become what I want to become. And remember, this was a journey that was a reward for the obedient, not a punishment. They were strong enough to handle it, and they were worthy for the reward. They just had to survive the journey. 

The wind never ceases to blow me towards the promised land.

Monday, October 16, 2017

Random quiz and the Heads of Haydn

My friend Ann Frederking posted a quiz on Facebook, and so I did it. Which I don't usually do. But I had just finished writing a short article for "Conventional Title" the newsletter of the Mountain Plains Music Library Association, and I guess that I just wanted to keep writing, so I did the quiz. So I will post it here, because maybe it will be good information some day? Or maybe not?

FILL THIS OUT WITHOUT LYING
1. What was the last thing you put in your mouth? A banana
2. Where was your profile pic taken? At the Saskatchewan border, in Cypress Hills Interprovincial Park
3. Worst physical pain you've experienced? Childbirth
4.Favourite place you've been? Iceland
5. How late did you stay up last night? 9:30 pm
6. If you could move somewhere else, where would it be? British Columbia
7. Which of your Facebook friends lives the closest to you: umm…if not my family, then probably Carmen Dahlgren
8. When was the last time you cried? I think I teared up yesterday.
9. Who took your profile picture? My son? My granddaughter? Can’t remember. One of them.
11. What's your favourite season? Autumn. Such pretty colors. (Although--after winter is here, then Spring is my favorite, because it is good-bye to winter then!)
12. If you could have any career, what would it be? I love being a music librarian. I will just do that.
13. What was the last book you read. Small Great Things by Jodi Picoult.
14. If you could talk to ANYONE right now who would it be? Maybe my mom.
15. Are you a good influence? I hope so.
16. Does pineapple belong on pizza? Sure.
17. You have the remote, what channel would you watch? If I had the remote, it would be hopeless! But if my husband is watching Netflix, and he uses the remote, and it was about now, we would watch Father Brown.
18. Whom do you think will play along? Not sure.
19. Last concert you attended? Primrose Memorial Concert with Paul Neubauer, Thula Ngwenyama, James Dunham, and massed violas conducted by Alan de Veritch.
20. Favourite Sports team? Maybe Toronto Maple Leafs, my dad’s favourite hockey team. Or Vancouver Canucks.


And now...The Heads of Haydn

The Two Heads of Haydn
Franz Joseph Haydn was a very smart guy. In fact, many people of his time thought he was a genius. Now, phrenology, a discipline that was later discredited, was becoming quite popular in 1809, when Haydn died, reaching its zenith between 1810 and 1840. And some of Haydn’s “friends” had become phrenology followers; phrenology fanatics, even, with a fetish for heads.

Haydn did not time his death very well, for a war was going on, and Vienna was occupied by the troops of Napoleon. So the funeral was small, hurried, and drew less attention than might have otherwise been the case. This situation may have made it easier for two of Haydn’s phrenology-frenzied “friends,” who conspired with the grave digger to steal Haydn’s freshly buried head.

It was June. The weather was hot. The head, four days dead, had begun to decompose, and after being exposed to the air, it decomposed faster—they had no fridge for Haydn’s head! The “friend” charged with transporting the head to the hospital for dissection actually disgorged while en-route, so sickened was he by the state of the head.

By September 1809, when hopefully the head didn’t look or smell quite so nasty, one of the “friends” displayed the head at his home, to impress his guests. The head’s home was a custom-made black box with glass windows and a lyre on top. Inside, the head rested on a white cushion.

Fast forward to 1820. Prince Nikolaus II Esterházy, who had been Haydn’s patron, was reminded that Haydn had not really had the proper burial he deserved in the family plot. Therefore, the prince ordered the body exhumed in order to bury it again at Eisenstadt. Imagine his surprise—and fury—to find a Headless Haydn!

He immediately knew who had stolen the head—it had to be those two phrenology freaks! However, they were both freaky and sneaky, so they managed to keep the head out of the prince’s hands. For example, one of the “friends” hid the head in a straw-filled mattress, and had his wife lie on the mattress. When the prince’s search party wanted to search the bed, she claimed she was too ill to get up—menstruating, she said—so the men did not want to touch her.

Eventually, the “friends” gave the prince a skull, to appease him, but it was not really Haydn’s skull. (Since the head had become a skull, it was hard for the prince to recognize his old music master.) The prince gave the skeleton, which was really Haydn’s, and the skull, which he thought was Haydn’s, a proper reburial.

Time went on. The “friends” died. The prince died. The head of Haydn, now the skull of Haydn, was willed to this person, and then to that person, and finally found its way to Vienna’s  Gesellschaft der Musikfreunde in 1895, where musicologist Karl Geiringer liked to show it off to visitors. With the skull being shown off in this manner, word got out that the buried skull was not the right one. The “friends” had clearly tricked the prince!

Prince Nikolaus II Esterházy had a descendant who was not quite happy with the way things worked out for his ancestor, and for Haydn, who had been a pretty important individual to the family and court of Esterházy. Prince Paul, in 1932, created a beautiful marble tomb for Haydn in the Bergkirche at Eisenstadt, for the express purpose of reuniting Haydn‘s actual skull with his actual skeleton.

But, alas, more skullduggery went on! And the occupation of Austria! And the war! It was not until 1954 that the skeleton and skull could be reunited. A proper ceremony was held, and all of Haydn’s remains were entombed together at Bergkirche. However—what about that extra skull? Who did it belong to? It had belonged to Haydn’s skeleton for over a hundred years, so why not let him keep it? And so, were you to peak into Haydn’s tomb today, you would find not one, but two heads. In skull form. 

Sunday, October 8, 2017

Stake Conference Notes

Today was Stake Conference. Patrick and I happened to sit near a Hispanic sister, who had wanted to listen to conference in English, but found that she understood less of the speakers than she had hoped to. She asked me if I would write down, in English, from my notes, what I had heard and then email it to her, because her reading comprehension in English is better than her listening comprehension. So I did that. I am glad she asked me, because recalling the talks with the intent to help her understand them was a very good experience, which involved some prayer, and some really careful remembering. So here is what I sent her.


The guest speakers were Scott and Tammy Runia. Elder Runia is a member of the 3rd Quorum of the Seventy. Sister Runia spoke first

Sister Runia referred to D & C 122, where the Lord says that in verse seven that “that all these things shall give thee experience, and shall be for thy good.” This scripture can help us to understand that experience is valuable. Sometimes the only way to have it (experience) is to go through it. We can’t always learn from reading about someone else’s experience, or watching someone else’s experience—we need experiences for ourselves. This includes hard things, because God doesn’t give us what we want; he gives us what we need.

She spoke of her son Ryan’s death four years ago, as a young man of 31. He woke up on Monday morning, kissed his wife and four children goodbye and headed to work, but then died that day of an undiagnosed heart condition. The next day (Tuesday) was his young daughter Piper’s birthday, and Sister Runia said that as she watched her granddaughter on that day, she saw her looking around the room and knew that she was looking for her daddy, but he wasn’t there. And she just could not understand why Ryan, their son, had to die and leave his little family.

She said that as a young child and a young woman, she thought of the gospel like this giant protective umbrella. So, if you keep the commandments, you will be blessed. If you live the Word of Wisdom, you will be healthy. If you pay your tithing, you will be financially secure, etc. But actually, that is not always the way it is—as in Matthew 5:45 “for he maketh his sun to rise on the evil and on the good, and sendeth rain on the just and on the unjust.” The gospel is not the umbrella—it is the foundation we are standing on while it is raining.

She said, “I know that God knows that we cannot live with him until we are like him.” That means we need to pass through experiences that are hard. Ryan’s death was very hard for Sister Runia. It was also hard for the rest of the family. On a night a few days after Ryan’s death, when their youngest daughter was having a really hard time about it, Sister Runia told her daughter, I don’t understand why this is in Ryan’s plan, but I trust in God that there is a plan.

Not understanding is not the same as not believing. We might not understand why something hard is a part of our plan, but we can still believe that God has a plan for us. His plan is personal and purposeful. He has an individual plan of salvation for each one of us. If we can live our lives with hope instead of fear, we can trust Him that whatever hard thing we are going through will work together for our good.

She said that one of her favorite hymns is “Come, ye disconsolate” (this hymn does not appear in the Spanish Himnos) which has a line that says “Earth has no sorrow that Heaven cannot heal.” She talked about why the word is heal, and not cure. She said that most of us don’t want to be healed, we want to be cured. (Curing means "eliminating all evidence of disease," while healing means "becoming whole.") Healing incorporates the injury—the injury or hurt or illness is still there, but made whole, or is no longer harmful but still a part of our whole being.

Sister Runia talked about a friend who had been working out, but then stopped, and her children teased her that her body was going to become flabby and fat without the exercise. The friend said, “Just wait until you see my spirit body! It is so strong from all the spiritual exercise it is getting!” Our spirit bodies change as we come to Christ. Prayer is a form of work. It is work that helps to make our spirits stronger.  Sister Runia realized that she needed to work harder at her prayers—she needed to move from casual prayer to mighty prayer. She knows she has been successful with she cries while praying—when her heart is touched, and softened by God. If she prays this way in the morning, as she goes about her day, her heart is soft and full, and she can be more forgiving and kind to those around her. Then at night, she returns and reports to God about how her day went. She has learned that she needs to align herself with God. Because prayer doesn’t change God, but it changes you. As you pray mightily in this way that changes you, God has promised that “all things wherewith you have been afflicted shall work together for your good.” (D & C 98:3)

She ended with a story about her brother, who was taking a sculpting class at BYU. The final assignment was to make a sculpture of yourself. He thought his sculpture looked like him, but something was missing, and try as he might, he could not get it to be the way he hoped it would be. He noticed that others in the class were receiving help from the teacher (the master sculptor) but he didn’t want help—he wanted to do it himself. He wanted it to be all him. He noticed that with just a few seconds of help, with just a minute adjustment, other students’ sculptures went from good to wonderful with the touch of the master’s hand. Finally, he humbled himself to ask the teacher for help, and the same transformation happened with his sculpture—the teacher, in just a few tiny adjustments, made his sculpture so much better.  And that is how it is with us in our lives—we need the touch of the Master’s hand to make our lives turn out. His plan for us is the best plan, and we need him.


Elder Runia spoke of Elder Russell M. Nelson posing the question to a gathering of 18-30 year olds, “Have you ever felt alone?” He said that everyone has felt this way at some point, some more than others. But we don’t have to be alone. We can have the Savior beside us.  He talked about being a true disciple, one who hungers and thirsts to learn about Jesus, which we can do by studying the words of Jesus in the Old Testament, where is manifest as Jehovah, in the New Testament, the Book of Mormon, and the Doctrine and Covenants. This is something that Elder Runia has been trying to do in his own life. He spoke of taking this message to men in prison at Gunnison, and told of some of his experiences there. (The men singing Beatles songs, and how the group had been told that no clapping was allowed, but the singing was so good, that the men just couldn't help themselves, but had to clap. Sister Runia wanted to clap, too, but Elder Runia said, "We can't--the guard told us not to!" The clapping almost got the meeting shut down. He spoke of the tender feelings he has had, watching men in the prison go through the repentance process.)

Elder Runia also described his feelings about his much loved son, Ryan, and the experiences surrounding his death. The day before Ryan died was a Sunday, and Elder Runia had a busy day that day, serving as a Stake President. His birthday was the next day, and so he and his wife were intending to invite all their children to their home for dessert that evening, because Elder Runia had an early flight for business the next morning. He and his second son were taking that flight; Ryan was staying behind, carrying on with the family business at which all three worked. Ryan had been working with his dad for seven years, and Elder Runia loved working with him. Well, Ryan and his wife decided that they should invite the entire family to their home for dinner that Sunday evening before his father’s birthday, so that is what they did. Elder Runia and Sister Runia made plans to attend.
While they were there at Ryan’s home that evening, Ryan got a call from a person he was home teacher to. This man was upset, because his wife had just told him that she was leaving him. Even with his family gathered, Ryan felt it was important to go and be with this man who had called, and so he slipped away for a while. Back home again, he related to his wife and family that he had told this man, “You can either curse God and blame Him, or you can let God in, and let Him heal you.”

The next morning early, his birthday, Elder Runia and his second son were at the airport in Georgia on a layover, when they received the phone call that Ryan had died. Instead of continuing their business trip, they changed their flights and went home. Heartbroken and upset, Elder Runia remembered Ryan’s words of the night before, “You can curse God and blame Him, or you can let Him in, and let Him heal you.” Trying to apply this counsel to yourself is a very hard thing.  But that is what Elder Runia tried to do. He kept running into people who needed help in the days and weeks after Ryan’s death—at Ryan’s funeral, a friend from his BYU basketball team days came to the funeral. When he thanked this man for coming he learned that this man was really down on his luck and also very ill. He helped him to find a temporary place to stay. He helped him through his final illness and death. Elder Runia again repeated to himself his son Ryan’s words, “You can curse God and blame Him, or you can let Him in, and let Him heal you.” He relied on these words, because his hurt over Ryan’s death was so great. “Every morning when you wake up, you hope it is a bad dream, but it isn’t,” he said. But as you keep serving the Lord, he is healing you.

Next, a young friend of the family got very ill, and needed surgery. The surgeon, a good friend of Elder Runia’s, told him that the young man’s condition was such that he only had about a 10% chance of surviving the surgery, and that he should probably plan on not surviving. This young man’s wife was pregnant and soon to deliver a child. The surgeon asked the woman’s doctor if the child could be induced so that the young man would be able to hold his child and give it a name and a blessing. This happened, and Elder Runia was there in the hospital for that occasion—a heart wrenching situation. Once again, Elder Runia found himself relying on Ryan’s words, “You can curse God and blame Him, or you can let Him in, and let Him heal you.” As Elder Runia was leaving the hospital that night, he met an older lady who was confused. Her husband was in the hospital for surgery, and she was worried about him, but at present, she needed help: she could not find her car. “Are you a good young man?” she asked Elder Runia. “I think you are,” she said, gesturing to his white shirt and tie. (He was just delighted that she called him YOUNG!) He went with her to find her car, probably driving past it twenty times in the parking lot, because she had a hard time remembering anything. Another unlooked for opportunity to help someone, but again a chance to serve, and by serving, be healed. Through service, wonderful things come. Wonderful healing comes of broken hearts.

Elder Runia, like his wife, spoke about building our lives on a sure foundation, the gospel of Jesus Christ, from whence healing comes. He said that they, the seventy, as a body, have been instructed to “prepare our saints for meet Jesus Christ.” He doesn’t know if that meeting will come for us as it came to his son Ryan, with a sudden call home to heaven when it was completely unexpected, or after a long life and old age, or if it will be because of the Savior coming in his glory—but in any case, he feels the urgency to prepare to meet Him.

We can look forward to our meeting with God will be wonderful, because He is cheerful, pleasant, lively, happy, nice to be around—He is everything that we are when we feel this spirit. So that is how we should strive to be—like Him.

Tuesday, September 26, 2017

Grandparents' Night

We went to our first grandparents' night at school, and it was also the first time that our grandchildren had some grandparents nearby to take to school on such a night. I think we all had fun! Josie stayed behind to visit with Nancy and Zoë, who wanted to stay at home and play with Riley (and his mom).

We had fun! Here is a photo dump:

















Whether at home or at school, fun was had by everyone!

Monday, September 4, 2017

Short Report

Today, I allowed myself NOT to go to the concert this evening, and called it a day at 5 pm. I got some take-out Thai food, came to my room and had a long, hot shower, and then I have been reading my book. Now I am going to write about my day, and then I am going to get to sleep earlier than usual. Tomorrow is my presentation at the conference, at 9 AM, so I want to leave by about 8:00 so that I am at the university by about 8:30.

My feet are still very happy. Those new shoes are the best.

The best thing about today: some blue sky came out! This was taken at about 10 AM. Soon after, gray clouds covered much of the blue, but occasionally throughout the day, there was a bit of blue. So lovely! I had been missing the blue. The gray was nice, but blue is nicer. Still very cold.

 A favorite session today was Hilary Herndon and her colleague talking about a program called Daraja Music Initiative. This is a program in Tanzania that aims to teach both music and conservation. It all started because of the mpingo tree, which is a kind of blackwood tree that is the national tree of Tanzania, and which only ever grew in Tanzania, Mozambique and Kenya, but that is on the endangered list. It is the wood that clarinets are made out of. Or were before plastics.  The volunteers pay their own way (about $2500 for three week) to teach music AND to help with tree planting. It made me want to do it!

This piece of tree broke on the flight here. Sad. NZ has VERY STRICT import laws (I threw away a package of Halls and some gummy bears that I forgot were in my backpack to avoid getting fined $400) but she begged and they let her bring these pieces of wood in to show us.Also because she didn't want to have to throw them away!
 I had a longer than usual lunch break, so I went off by myself to look for things to possibly buy. Things are very expensive here, but I think I found a possible store to go back to tomorrow. In the mean time, I stopped and got this lunch of couscous salad and a vegetable quiche. Mini quiches are very popular here, and they eat them both hot and cold. I like them better hot but cold is okay. I had one cold in my box lunch yesterday.
 Concerts at St. Andrew's Church all afternoon.
Donald on viola d'amore and Marcin on viola with this orchestra. I don't know what orchestra, so I am just calling it this orchestra.
 Daphne and Katrin played a duo. I took a couple of pictures, hoping that one might be decent.




The Dutch woman did this piece called Woman, Viola and Crow which required her to do some foot tapping and on her back are beads that she would shake. She would also CAW sometimes. A student behind me snickered, but most of us just tried to be all serious. Honestly, if we could just laugh, wouldn't it be better? Because it was all kinds of funny, really.
And now to finish my book and get some sleep!

Sunday, September 3, 2017

Another day in the Southern Seas

 Let me start my daily report with this picture of the towel warmer in the bathroom! Such an awesome idea! A wet facecloth dries overnight! Bath towels are toasty warm! What a magnificent invention in this cold, drafty climate! (The windows feel opened even when they are closed--that cold air off the harbour just penetrates!)

As I walked up to campus this morning, I thought I would take pictures as I went.  So, here is a picture of a youth hostel that is just a five minute from campus. In case anybody ever is coming to Wellington and wants to find a hostel. It is right on The Terrace; easy to find! I thought I would be able to read the address from this picture, but my eyes are not that good. The architecture is lovely.

 Most of the houses in this area at the top of The Terrace, close to the university, are this style of architecture. I really like it. Now, see those PALM-ish trees? What's up with that? How can they stand to live here, where it is so cold. And let me tell you, walking south on The Terrace and getting hit with that cold Southern Antarctic breeze--that is very cold! I have to pull my hood up around my ears. It is freezing!
 When you are taking the short cut to campus, you get to walk past a graveyard. This morning, I accidentally took the low road instead of the high road and so I therefore walked THROUGH the graveyard. It was not even scary. But it was morning, so not the scary time of day.

 The path still goes up and up and up.
 The view from near the top:
 I like the signs in two languages, English and Maori:
 The music building kind of looks like a house, all yellow and pretty:
 Here is the organ in the Adams Recital Hall, inside the music building:
Here are a couple of pictures my friend Raquel took:
So, in this picture, Christopher Luther is playing. He is very good at everything he does. He plays well, he is a great teacher, and he is super interested in so many things. Anna and I are totally in his fan club. See how I am listening and playing attention.
And here is this sweet Dutch girl playing this awful piece of music, based on 100 ways to say music, and all of them were not easy to listen to, so I am just taking a little nap. It is totally obvious! I am going to have to watch that!
Here are some pictures of friends practising. They would soon play the pieces that had been entered in the ANZVS Competition. This event--two hours to play and talk about the pieces and reveal the composers--was a bit of a fiasco, dealt with in a most disorganized fashion, and my friend Anna and her friend Olwyn were fit to be tied! Olwyn had the plan all written out for the man in charge, but he just sort of blew off the plan and made a few people a bit cross in the process. But the polite ladies went out of their way to soothe ruffled feathers, so all's well that ends well.
Greg McGarity, someone I don't know, Alexa Thomson, Robert Harris and Andrew Fillmer. (NZ, NZ, AUS, Malaysia)
Natalie Stepaniuk, Greg, Christiaan van der Zee, ???, Robert, Andrew F. and Alexa
 Today, there was no morning tea provided, because we got our box lunches, it being Sunday, at 11, preparatory to getting on the bus to go to Te Papa, the Museum of New Zealand.  I had been going to miss this day and go to church, but I decided that if I didn't go with the bus to Te Papa, I wouldn't be able to go there at all. Here I am on the bus, thanks to my friend Raquel Bastos who took the picture:
That is Raquel, bottom right.
We were only there for about an hour, and most of that was the viola flash mob, but I did wander a tiny bit. It was terribly busy today, because it was Father's Day in NZ, so lots of families were there.

View of the city around Te Papa
More view of the city around Te Papa
I took this picture for all the fish that are on the side of the building. Of course, I was on the bus when I took the picture, and timing is everything, and mine was off. So the picture is not so great.
I took this out a window in the museum. This is part of the museum, I think. So lush and tropical looking--but wear a coat! And maybe gloves and a hat!
Another view out a window in the museum. I wanted to go across that bridge, but I was too chicken to stray far from our group, so I wouldn't miss the ride back. Walking in Wellington is....crazy good exercise! And I get a lot of that just going up the hill every day!
 The next pictures are what little bits I snuck away to see in the museum:

This exhibit is, I am told, awfully good. But too bad I only saw the outside of it!

Birds and fish, all in the sky together.
The sign says, "Yes it happened here! The world's largest eagle made a feast of the world's largets bird" -- The Giant Moa.
Dinosaurs look the same everywhere.
Lots of earthquakes happen around here. And lots of volcanoes are in NZ. (Anna's house in Auckland is on the side of a volcano, for example.)
Lots of violists, getting ready for the flash mob. Dorotea Vismara and her daughter Natania Hoffmann are in front.
Donald Maurice started it off. Then a few joined, including Daphne, on the right.
My friend Christine is in the gray.
My friend Anna is in the maroon.
Then, flash mob over, it was back on the bus, back to more concerts and master classes.  Here are a few photos from this evening. Which by the way, although I did not take pictures of every group, what a fabulous concert! The Dvorak String Quintet in E-flat major, op. 97 is luscious. Loved it. Then BYU's Deseret String Quartet played Boccherini's Fandango from the String Quintet no.4 in D major. Jane Curry, a guitarist from NZ joined them. Also the stage manager, who is rather androgynous, but I think is named Hannah, played a bit of percussion.
Alex Woods, Monte Belknap, Hannah, Michelle Kesler and Claudine Bigelow

Same people, at work.
Old and new (old) friends enjoying intermission. I have known Michael and Anna for a long time. Michael since 2003 and Anna for at least ten years. The other two are new friends, but old(er than me) people: Michael Vidulich, Olwyn Green and Anna Brooker are all from Auckland; Baird Knechtel is from Toronto.
 Claudine played with some of her colleagues from her six-month stint on the faculty at Victoria University of Wellington during her Fulbright year.

Martin Risely, Claudine, Jian Liu, Inbal Meggido. They also played Dvorak and it was also really good.
PS - I wore my new shoes again for 14 hours straight today and my feet did not complain! My ankles are a bit swollen, but I am keeping my compression socks busy, so all is well. Good night!