I don’t bother writing about all my trips to the Grant Park Music Festival as it becomes boring to comment on one pleasurable evening after another and my grasp of the English language (even my native Mid-American version thereof) is such that I eventually run out of adjectives and/or the strength to defend my use of them.

But, I would be remiss if I didn’t relate my new experience this week, that is having something resembling a conversation with the festival’s chorus director, Christopher Bell, or, as he introduced himself to me prior to the June 14th concert, Chris, which, may I add, resulted in my new acquaintance taking my suggestion regarding the need for a jazzier pre-show 10-minute chime warning for those of us hanging out in the tent, usurping the chimes and mallet and playing a little ditty himself for the nearby patrons.

The interaction is noteworthy on two counts. First, that it happened at all, which can be solely attributed to Chris’s friendliness, his need to stand somewhere to eat his turkey pinwheel and there being such an available “where” right next to me.

Second, as he seemed like a nice guy, I restrained myself and didn’t mention that I hate choral performances (don’t tell him) and had no intention for staying past intermission to hear The Cloud Messenger (after thoroughly enjoying Christian Tetzlaff playing Elgar’s Violin Concerto in B Minor in the first half of the concert).

One final note. The mere title, The Cloud Messenger, is a turnoff for me. I’ve never seen a movie I liked with the word cloud in the title, including the critically-acclaimed, but not by me, Cloud Atlas.

I will admit, however, to liking Chicago’s Cloud Gate and the songs Get Off of My Cloud and Cloud Nine, though I’m still confused as to how one can look at clouds from both sides.