Okay, so I'd like to talk to you right now about wanting to be in the spotlight, except I think it would work better

if I could speak to you with chords and notes, not just words, which is why we're using flute, clarinet and piano

instead of just me. So I'm gonna speak and they're gonna play. So it's all one thing. You'll get the idea.

Okay, so did you ever wanna be in the spotlight? Ya know: have everybody notice you and say just how

wonderful you are and cheer Bravo! Hooray! WOOOO! Et cetera! I wanted that.  I'm not just TALKING about

being noticed. I'm talking a-bout LIKING to be noticed, CRAVING to be noticed, wanting everybody to clap

when you walk down Cottage Place and other streets: Bravo! Hooray! WOOOO! Et cetera! (Just normal stuff

like that.)

Okay so when I was in second grade I didn't play with other kids. Yeah that's not good, but maybe it served a

function later in life. But I'm not going there now. Except to say that in seventh grade my parents got me a set

of records (after I hounded them) called “Fifty Great Moments of Music” and I'd listen to it. I liked the music,

but I also wanted to be like "Beathoven" and "Duhvoarack" and all those other great composers. I'd have a bust

in the Hall of Fame. I'd show all those kids that didn't know my name, both alive and dead.

Okay, so what I thought boiled down to was: Unless you're famous you don't exist…  Un-less you're famous you

don't exist… Unless you're famous you don't exist... Unless you're famous you don't exist… Unless you're famous

you don't exist… Wouldn't that make a nice greeting card? Can't you see it? On the cover a man with a question

mark instead of a face superimposed on a big five-pointed golden star, and you open the greeting card and it says

“Unless you're famous you don't exist. Best wishes for springtime and always. Your friend, Bill.” My wife

Chalagne says she doesn't understand this because that's not how she is. But our friend Maggie the stage director

says she understands this. Maybe you do too, or… maybe instead you just wanna make a lotta money. Same thing.

Okay, so there's this guy who wants to be famous and noticed, but I'd rather not call him “Bill” anymore, okay?

Let me just call him “Pete”.

Okay so PETE'S sitting in the audience and he notices a spotlight on somebody. Maybe it's a lady singing

something fancy like la la la la la, la la la la la… or may-be it's Drew Brees, you know who led the Saints to win

Superbowl XLIV (as in GEAUX SAINTS! WHO DAT NATION! et cetera), or maybe it's a dictator who tells

everybody to bow to him or he'll kill everybody. So Pete thinks “Hey I'd like a turn at that”, and he even says to

the gal sitting next to him “Hey I'd like a turn at that”, and he even yells out from the audience “Hey I'd like a

turn at that”, and then he gets up on the stage, but not the first time or second time or millionth time, because the

stage hands (God bless 'em) keep throwing Pete back into the audience.

Okay so I wanna get cheered for… I mean PETE wants to get cheered for. But the stage hands keep throwing

him back into the audience, kinda like a fisherman throwing a fish back that's too little, a fish who just wanted

to get caught, discovered, noticed, whatever. Just normal stuff like that. But this one time, this ONE time, Pete

gets up on the stage and he actually stays there, and he walks into the spotlight too, and it's so hot and bright

but wow Pete's finally in the spotlight! But nobody's saying how wonderful Pete is or cheering.  What happened?

No bravos, hoorays, woooos, et ceteras. The spotlight's so bright Pete can't see into the audience. Pete thinks “Hey

does anybody know I'm here?” Pete says out loud: “Hey does anybody know I'm here?” Pete yells: “Hey does

anybody know I'm here?” No response.

Okay so Pete thinks to himself maybe that it's he has to DO something. So he sings something fan-cy like tra la

la la la, tra la la la la... No response. So he quarterbacks his team to actually win Superbowl XLZ… No response.

So he becomes a dictator and tells everybody to kneel to him or he'll kill everybody… No response. Okay so

what kinda spotlight is this anyhow?

Okay so then Pete notices the spotlight itself, JUST the spotlight,  nothing else, not those other things like

audiences or whatever. And that's when the light gets brighter. And that's when time slows down to eternity,

or speeds up to eternity. And that's when the spotlight's brighter than a million suns are.  And that's when Pete

hears music, but it sounds better than this music sounds, way better, or even better than Dvorák or Beethoven

or even anything he ever heard before…  Way better than anything he ever heard before. Then he hears this voice

calling him by name. “Peter.” Okay!

And that's when Pete starts to notice other people in the light: a man from Africa, an old woman pushing

a shopping cart, Pete's second grade teacher and her entire class, a truck driver who gave Pete a break and let

him pull in front of him on Route 17, Matthew, who said he was an atheist, Antonin Dvorák, the lady who

was singing something fancy before, Drew Brees holding his son on his shoulder, Abraham Lincoln, just plain

Abraham, Marc Chagall and Jesus, even the guy who lives next door to you that you don't like. He's here too.

They're all here. And more. Maybe even YOU'RE here (at least I hope so).  But what's really wonderful is

nobody has to shout Bravo! Hooray! Woooo! Et cetera! because nobody needs it anymore. Something else is

going on now. Sometimes what you're looking for isn't what you expect. It's even better!