It was homecoming month for me, with three of the five orchestras I led as music director on the docket. Over three consecutive weeks I conducted in St. Louis, Detroit, and Lyon. Only D.C. and the BBC were missing. But these three reunions were certainly enough to reestablish longstanding connections.

Now that we reside close to Powell Hall, travel expenses to get there are kept to a minimum, and the musical pleasures hit maximum stride in each performance. Although I had seen and conducted several members of the SLSO in smaller-scale programs, this was the first time we were all together onstage for a full-fledged program since the pandemic began.

Excitement was in the air, anticipation was high, and apprehension abounded. This was how the new season of music began in a time of confusion. Everyone had so hoped that we would be back to what we knew before the pandemic, but caution remained the watchword of the day.

I reflected on what has brought us to this point as I looked over my itinerary for the remainder of the year. Instead of the usual “What time does the flight depart?” question, it was more like, “When should we decide if we are going or not?”

Birthdays seem to come more frequently these days. And those of the past are getting more difficult to remember. Where was I last year at this time? There were certainly lots of well-wishers, and my inbox was fuller than usual.

77 is a number that conjures up nothing. Okay, there was that TV show (77 Sunset Strip) and song from back in the late Fifties, but as far as anniversaries go, it is just a blip on the birthday radar.

As the summer broiled along, I participated in two music festivals. Both involved a combination of professional and student musicians, but that was pretty much where the similarities ended.

I have been going to Aspen since 1964, and it is safe to say that my path as a conductor began there. Much has changed. There were no traffic lights back then. At one time, the festival comprised just three shows a week; now it features as many as three a day. During my time as a student, there was only one orchestra. They played a single concert each week, led exclusively by the music director. The student body was around 150 when I attended and today includes hundreds more.

Most of you who read these monthly musings know that I am big on preserving the heritage and legacy of composers from the United States. Our tradition is rich and full. There was a time when many of these creators were heroes, part of the ongoing march of cultural history.

It is important to understand what orchestras are doing next season and more importantly, why they are doing it. Some programming decisions needed to change in light of what we have experienced over this past year and a half. Placing emphasis on female performers and composers is long overdue, and pretty much every orchestra has recognized this, at least for the 2021-22 season. The same is true for musicians from minority communities. Black artists have, in some cases, been absent from programming aside from special observances placing them all together on a single concert. We should applaud the boards, staffs, and musicians who are working to balance the scales.

Although we have not yet arrived at the “dog days of summer,” temperatures have been warm enough to cause some of us to wonder when they will hit the century mark. Meanwhile, much of the world has started returning to regular performance routines.

I am going to write about two main points in this month’s column, both related to events that occurred in June. One is specific and the other general.

If it’s June, it must be time for opera. Or at least that is how it usually works in St. Louis. In 1976, a group of passionate advocates for the artform got together and decided it was time for the city to have its own company.

Their first foray was a success, and Opera Theatre of Saint Louis has been thriving ever since. Housed at Webster University in the suburb of Webster Groves, the company presents around four productions a season, hires almost exclusively American talent, boasts an outstanding young artist program, and presents operas in English. More on that a bit later.

Looking at me, you would never know that I was once a skinny, underweight teenager. And before that, back in the ’50s, I was served a malted milk a day to get my girth up to snuff. Those days are long gone.

With the ever-present battle of the bulge raging, the pandemic provided an opportunity to try and get myself into decent shape. For starters, I would not be dining out for quite a while, which was good news for my waistline. Maintaining a healthy lifestyle and diet was difficult on the road given the lure of late-night gastronomic delights at parties, receptions and fine restaurants. Most of the establishments I ate in did not have salad bars.

A little over a month after returning to the podium, I have been struck by how various orchestras are dealing with rehearsing and presenting concerts. In the past, a conductor could just show up, ask how long the orchestra could rehearse before taking a break, and try to accomplish the goals for the day.

Now it is all different. Every orchestra seems to regulate things depending on state guidelines, union rules, and what they feel is best for everyone. The three ensembles I worked with recently each has a different method of operation.

Sometimes, purely by accident, circumstances put us in a place where we are convinced that coincidence is also part of fate. Such was the case as Cindy and I headed off on our first real trip in more than a year.

Over the course of ten days, we took leisurely drives from and back to St. Louis, with the main destination point being my old stomping grounds, New Orleans. It is a fairly straightforward shot down I-55, and we planned some overnight stops along the way to take in the sights.