Timo on Stage, looking skinny, but powerful

I'm in LA this week attending a concert of the LA Philharmonics Green Umbrella Series and then sticking around for an Apress editorial gathering in Pasadena. I find that we have many friends here, friends and relatives I've known and loved for a long time and don't see nearly enough. Many of them came to Disney Hall on Tuesday night to hear Timo perform and be performed. They've all known Timo since he was born.

Rather than talk about the recital, here are a couple of articles about it from the LA Times. First, a profile of Timo that appeared before the concert.

Timothy Andres is enjoying his moment in the L.A. sun

And after the concert, this review:

John Adams conducts young composer-performers at Disney Hall

I was asked before the concert began if I got nervous when Timo performed. "I used to, but I don't anymore." I took my seat, row three, front and center, the lights dimmed, Timo bounced out on stage, and the applause hit me. I was nervous. I got hot and damp and needed to roll up my sleeves. Timo was wearing his new black silk Nehru shirt he'd bought for the occasion, and he looked very tall, skinny, and all of the females reported that he also looked extremely attractive. He sat, pushed his hair back with an artistic swipe (there's a lot of it just now), thought a moment, looked a bit nervous to me, but he got right down to work.

He played a piece he'd practiced in the living room at home. It's one I know well and particularly enjoy hearing. The sound seemed to fly away in the big hall and I felt how lonely it must feel on stage. I was still nervous, but now Timo was in control; up close to the keys, barely touching them, then BANG with a big motion. He's exciting to watch. He and the piece begin to feel like one thing. He is the master of the instrument and, like a flying carpet, it takes him wherever he desires. The piece is full of inside jokes, references to music Timo has played in his life, and I smile each time I hear them. I'm happy, and moved, and it's hard to believe that he can do these things.

Apress Reorgs: It's Simultaneously Unsettling and Encouraging News

The Apress Quarterly Call was scheduled for Thursday. I thought nothing of it, after all, we have them every quarter. The publisher, Paul Manning, flies out to Berkeley to gather the forces and deliver the news, good or bad, and urge us on to greater things. He's good at it and I enjoy listening to him. But he sounded nervous when I called in to join the call; cleared his throat quite a bit and wasn't his usual jovial self.

"Springer has decided reorganize Apress, moving production and marketing to New York and closing the Berkeley office."

Silence. He read on from his prepared script, explaining the reasons and adding that editorial, my group, would continue unchanged. But the bombshell had been dropped and I felt that pulsing throb of adrenalin—fight or flight? And yet, my job was safe. My books would be published and my authors would continue pretty much unaffected by this shifting of tectonic plates.

In fact, the reorg seems to indicate Springer's complete faith in our far-flung editorial group and particularly in our editorial director, Dominic Shakeshaft. We will be backed by new, more streamlined and agile production methods that are intended to allow us greater control and productivity. The goal is to allow Apress to grow and be a larger publisher, while recognizing that publishing isn't just about printing books; which is really the key to this whole, unsettling reorg.

I believe that all of us in editorial have recognized the urgency of the new publishing models, whatever they turn out to be. We talk about this a lot and argue over ways to remain relevant as the eBook becomes dominant and the dusty tome becomes quaint and rustic. But none of us doubts that this is happening or sees it as a negative thing. We very much embrace it and want to be a part of it. Apparently, Springer supports this vision, which is a tremendous vote of confidence.

It's interesting that in our thoughts of future publishing, we all pretty much failed to realize that we were discussing a business imperative. In short, it took our relatively young publisher, a Springer lifer with a background in marketing and engineering, to make the business decision and open the gates wide for us to step through into our future vision. It's exciting, but also a little scary. I'm not used to being treated with such trust, but I must say, it affirms my feelings of mutual respect within Apress editorial. It's very encouraging.

Elusive, and yet predictable

Here, in the second week of May and after five days of showers and thunderstorms, mild daytime temperatures in the 50's and 60's, and just as the lilac are in full bloom, morel season has arrived. This is not an overconfident prediction, but a certainty. We went out this morning with our collecting bag and headed for a favorite, and usually productive trail in Hidden Valley along the swollen Shepaug River. An hour later, having seen kaykers, walked by mature ramps now several weeks old, seen pink lady slippers almost ready to unfold, there was nothing in our bag.

This is how it usually is for us. Were we too late, too early, or just unlucky? Back in the car to River Road and Steep Rock proper. Some years ago we came upon a spot that has produced every year, though never as many as the first time we picked here with Tommy. It didn't look promising, at last not at first. But there it was, followed by seven more small specimens of what are popularly known as white morels. They aren't very white, but they're a lighter shade than black morels, which aren't black.

I don't know why this is always so exciting, but it remains a thrill. It's not much, but Wellie made a lovely morel risotto and I grilled some asparagus. We were all quite satisfied, and Hoover and Rufus licked the plates.

Maybe we'll find some more on our walk tomorrow. Hope springs eternal.