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| An imagined gathering from Arias in the Devil's Pocket where Black, Italian, Palestinian, and other neighbors come together after long workdays to create music that transcends the world outside. |
Usually, this time of year, my dear friend Danni and I would be settling into our seats at the Kimmel Center, waiting for another Philadelphia Orchestra concert to begin. We’ve shared music for fifty-seven years from playing together in school orchestras as children to attending concerts as senior ladies
This season is different. Illness has kept Danni from the concert hall, but not from the music. We have grand plans to bring the music to her.
Thinking about our friendship reminded me of another community bound together by music, one that inspired my newest flash fiction story, “Arias in the Devil’s Pocket.”
Set in post-World War II South Philadelphia, the story follows an unlikely community of Black, Italian, newly arrived Palestinians, and other neighbors who gather after long workdays to make music together. Though they earn their living in factories, offices, and shops, they refuse to let their occupations define them. They were musicians. They were creatives. In one another, they found friendship and purpose that transcended the racial, economic, and cultural boundaries of the world outside.
I grew up believing that music belonged in homes. My grandmother played bass, my mother played violin, my dad many instruments and our living room and others were often filled with musicians, teachers, neighbors, and friends. Looking back, I realize I was raised by an extended family of creatives who refused to let their occupations define the boundaries of their imaginations.
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The story also quietly explores, in a small way, mental illness within a community held together by music. |
I hope you’ll take a few moments to listen, share and tell me your favorite piece of music.
