As personal tech devices become more sophisticated, don't forget the value of shared entertainment experiences

This was the scene from our pavilion seats for a recent screening of Raiders of the Lost Ark, with the Cleveland Orchestra performing the film score live.

One of my favorite things about having a smartphone is that it allows me, with just a pair of earphones, to listen to music, watch a movie, and even check out a televised sporting event through our DirectTV streaming service.

Things that used to require large pieces of equipment when I was growing up (a theatre screen, a TV, a VCR, a stereo, etc.) are now available for personal consumption thanks to the miracle of the iPhone/Android. No one else needs to see or hear what I'm seeing or hearing.

Which has its advantages, of course, especially when you're traveling.

But along with all of this miniaturization and personalization also comes increased isolation.

As technology advances, so too does the ability for people to live – almost literally – in their own little worlds. Opportunities for social interaction decrease, which many of the introverts among us will celebrate but which can also have real (and negative) long-term effects on our collective emotional and psychological wellbeing.

This was brought home to me last month when Terry, Jack, our family friend Josie and I all spent a Saturday evening at Blossom Music Center watching the movie "Raiders of the Lost Ark" while the Cleveland Orchestra played the background music in sync with the film.

I would guess I've seen Raiders in its entirety 10-15 times, but this most recent experience was the first time I had seen it with a crowd of people since I originally watched it in the theatre in 1981.

And it was wonderful. Far more enjoyable than watching it alone in my living room.

Part of the reason was that Sarah Hicks, the orchestra's guest conductor, encouraged the several thousand of us in attendance to interact with the movie. She pushed us to clap for the heroes, boo the villains and generally enjoy the movie viscerally as I would say Steven Spielberg originally intended us to.

It made the whole thing so much more fun. We would clap whenever Indiana Jones got himself out of a particularly tight situation. We would boo and hiss whenever one of the Nazis came onto the screen. And we would laugh wholeheartedly whenever Indy would make one of his understated jokes or amusing observations.

It made me realize how seldom I watch movies in the theatre now. There is something about the shared experience of a concert or a film that adds to my enjoyment of it. As I've increasingly relied on my phone to serve as a primary source of entertainment, I have somehow managed to forget that.

Art, in whatever form you consume it, is meant to have a social component. Every once in a while, put down the phone and get to your local cinema or concert hall for some shared fun.

I don't think you'll regret it.

Three ways to develop a taste (or at least a true appreciation) for any artform

Last night, my daughter Chloe and I were at Cleveland's Severance Hall to hear the world-renowned Cleveland Orchestra perform Camille Saint-Saens' Piano Concerto No. 2 (featuring rock star pianist Lang Lang) and Hector Berlioz's "Symphonie Fantastique."

Or at least I assume we were. I'm writing this in early April, and that's what's on the calendar for May 2. I have a partial season subscription to the Cleveland Orchestra. I use it to nurture my love of classical music and to spend time with my daughters Elissa and Chloe, who accompany me to these concerts.

I did not grow up a fan of this style of music, you understand. It's something I developed beginning in my early 40s and that continues to grow today through constant listening and reading articles about these works written by people who know what they're talking about.

I don't really know what I'm talking about when it comes to classical music, but I do, as they say, know enough to be dangerous. I'm constantly buying CDs off of Amazon and eBay to hear recordings of certain pieces you just can't get on a streaming service like Spotify or Apple Music.

I really can't enough of it.

Like I said, though, I was intentional in developing this artistic interest. I wanted to better understand and appreciate it starting around 2011, and I'm pleased with the progress I've made these past 13 years.

I have so much more to listen to and understand, though, which is the part I love. There's never a shortage of new stuff to discover.

If you have a similar potential interest in something artistic – whether it's music, visual art, dance, poetry, or whatever – you may benefit from doing three things that helped me get started as a classical music fan:

(1) Begin with the stuff you know you like
In my case with classical music, this was Tchaikovsky (unapologetically emotional, melodic, accessible) and Beethoven (familiar, powerful). Listening to those two well-known composers early got me acquainted with common forms like symphonies, chamber music and piano concertos. It also taught me to listen for and identify themes and recurring passages and how cleverly they can be used in a piece. Most important, though, starting with music I already somewhat knew kept me coming back and allowed me to develop a real thirst for more.

(2) Get a book or check a website for beginners
Every artform has a set of books or online articles for those who want to learn more about it. In my case with classical music, I own four books that were indispensable in helping me understand what I was hearing and directing me toward the most important works. In case you're interested, those are:

• The NPR Curious Listener's Guide to Classical Music
• The NPR Guide to Building a Classical CD Collection
• The New York Times Essential Library of Classical Music
• The International Guide to Building a Classical Music Library

(3) Go and see it live when you can
If you want to learn more about painting or sculpture, you have to get to an art museum to see the medium up close and personal. If dance is your thing, find a live ballet performance. In the case of classical music, you have to hear a good orchestra play in person. You just have to. There's nothing else like it. I'm spoiled having a world-class ensemble in my backyard, but there are plenty of highly skilled orchestras in every state/province and country. Get thee to a concert hall (or museum, or live poetry reading, or dance theatre...) and your understanding of your chosen artform, much like the Grinch's heart, will grow three sizes that day.

I am whatever level of nerd it is that would buy and wear this shirt

About a month ago, I was seated on the lawn of Blossom Music Center alongside Terry, Elissa and Mark waiting for the start of a concert by the amazing Cleveland Orchestra.

If you don't know much about classical music, you might wonder how it is that Cleveland has (and has had for many decades) one of the world's great symphony orchestras. It's a long story, but this ensemble is in many ways as good as it gets, and we in Northeast Ohio have them right in our backyard.

I am a Cleveland Orchestra subscriber, though I've had to scale back the number of concerts I attend for the upcoming classical season, given the number of conflicts there are with my sports PA announcing duties.

This particular concert wasn't part of my subscription, but we had just seen the Orchestra perform along to a showing of the movie "Jurassic Park" at Blossom a couple of weeks earlier and wanted to return for a "proper" classical presentation. So we bought these tickets separately.

The program that evening consisted of a short work by the relatively unknown Japanese composer Yasushi Akutagawa, the Shostakovich Cello Concerto No. 1 (performed by the remarkably talented Zlatomir Fung), and the main event for me and many others in the crowd: Debussy's "La Mer."

Clause Debussy is my favorite composer, or at least I think he is. Maurice Ravel is a pretty close second, and sometimes I can't say for sure whose music I really prefer.

For Christmas, Terry bought me a 33-CD set of Debussy's complete works that took more than a month of constant listening to get through. I loved all of it.

Anyway, we were sitting in lawn/beach chairs enjoying a nice pre-concert picnic spread when it occurred to me that the only bit of classical music "merch" I owned was a pair of socks imprinted with J.S. Bach's face. "Are there classical music t-shirts?" I wondered to myself.

I took out my phone and Googled "classical music shirts," and of course there was a wide selection.

I searched specifically for a Debussy shirt, and when I came across the one pictured above, I knew instantly it was the one I wanted and ordered it on the spot.

I just love this shirt. Nothing complex about it. No photo of the great man himself, just his name in college football-style letters plastered across the front.

And yes, I chose that heather purple color. For whatever reason, I really felt it took the shirt from good to great.

"Who would wear something like that?" you might ask. And the answer is me. I am wearing it at this very moment, as I type these words.

If you're going to own a t-shirt like this, you have to embrace it. There can be zero hesitation to be branded for what you really are: a Grade A, first-class nerd.

I wear them (the shirt and the label) proudly.

Live music is probably what I miss the most

I've heard the question asked often over these past 12 months: What's the one thing you miss the most since the outbreak of the pandemic?

The answers are often predictable, though no less poignant and heartfelt. People miss getting together with family and friends. They miss visiting their elderly relatives. They just want to go the movies or a ball game again with a crowd all around them.

There are many things I miss about which I comfort myself by keeping in mind that this will all eventually end. Some elements of our lives may change forever, but we'll still end up a lot closer to our previous "normal" than we are now.

For me, that will mean a return to Severance Hall.

Severance is the home of the world-renowned Cleveland Orchestra, an ensemble to which I am a subscriber. In fact, this was supposed to have been the year when I went all in with my commitment to the group.

Whereas in the previous few years I bought partial season packages of six or seven concerts each, my original plan for 2020-21 had been to attend a full slate of 13.

I was excited.

For one thing, these concerts are occasions when I get to spend a few hours with one of my two oldest daughters, Elissa and Chloe. They switch off on which concerts they attend with me. It's fun not only for the shared experience but also for the conversation (as well as the intermission wine I always buy them).

Nearly as important is the magic of the music. I use that word "magic" intentionally because I don't know how else to describe the sound those musicians onstage at Severance Hall produce.

It's one thing for me to listen to my classical CDs (I have nearly 200 of them), but quite another to hear these famous works performed live by world-class musicians. I never tire of it.

The Orchestra delayed the start of the season until January, then again until this month. They fully intended to do in-person concerts starting right about now by taking a long list of precautions to keep everyone safe.

But eventually it dawned on management that, even with the most stringent of measures, it made no sense to put an older audience at risk by having them together in one indoor venue, even with partial capacity.

So the season has gone fully virtual. I listen to the recorded performances the Orchestra puts out every other Thursday, and I enjoy them, but it's just not quite the same.

Someday. Someday we'll be back for in-person concerts. And when we are, that very loud sigh of contentment you'll hear coming from the balcony section will be mine.

Hockey is back, Beethoven not so much

We are, and long have been, big hockey fans in our house.

We have been season ticket holders for our local American Hockey League team, the Cleveland Monsters, ever since the team came to town in 2007. We have two seats to every game every season.

The 14th of those seasons, COVID-delayed as it has been, starts next Friday as the Monsters host the Rochester Americans.We plan to be there for most of the 14 scheduled home games this winter and spring.

(NOTE: The Monsters were originally supposed to open their season tonight in Rockford, Illinois, but their two games this weekend against the Ice Hogs were postponed for reasons related to COVID protocols.)

I am also a subscriber to The Cleveland Orchestra. That group was planning to begin in-person concerts in early March, and I had intended to be there.

Sadly, however (and perhaps not surprisingly), I received an email from the Orchestra this week announcing the cancellation of live concerts this spring. They tried hard to make it work, but considering the advanced average age of a symphony orchestra audience, this decision is likely for the best.

Instead, they will continue offering online "virtual" concerts every couple of weeks, as they have been since the fall.

The question of live event attendance nowadays is an understandably sticky one. Is it safe? What precautions are being put in place? What risk is involved, and is it worth the utter joy of moving back toward something resembling normalcy?

In the case of both the Monsters and the Orchestra, I felt comfortable that the proper steps had been taken to keep audience members like me safe. For hockey there will be limited seating, social distancing, mask wearing, plenty of hand sanitizer, etc.

I am 51 years old and healthy. The typical hockey attendee is even younger and healthier than me. It all seems relatively safe.

Still, I completely understand the rationale of those who believe otherwise and opt out of this shortened season.

I just can't wait for the day when it's not even a question anymore.

Go Monsters, and uh, go Orchestra!