Dr. Rittenhouse,

You took us around the world and back,

Elegant in black.

From Carnegie to Jerash,

From Red Square, to the local parish

We sparkled under your bow-baton,

The excitement on.

Fumbling for music while you talked

And the audience gawked.

We sawed on fiddles, blew on horns,

Stood for encores.

With scandalous attire we shocked

(Boys wore dresses. French Horns, red socks.)

You bought us ice-cream cones,

And Scottish Scones.

Making sure we had fun,

30 concerts done.

Days and nights, travel-filled,

Full of Gondolas & Eiffel Tower thrills.

Making us be our best, and show zest

After bus-all-night rest.

(“Look, there’s a lion!” in Kruger Park.

“Zzzzz.”)

Instruments missing, passports mailed,

The show must go on! It never failed.

Excellence was the demand

Crowd-pleasing was your brand.

What our lives would have been without you,

Who knew.

We were the kids you never had.

You were the Musical Mom we needed bad.

From divorced homes, down South and Europa we came.

Rich or poor, you gave us a game: talent.

Play hard you said.

We did.

And that has made all the difference.

-          Lynette DeWitt, August 31, 2011