A Dream Come True or Just Retirement Perks? by Sam Koo

 

Growing up, I often heard that relentless pursuit makes dreams come true. For many of my young friends, that dream meant professional success and wealth. I didn’t give it much thought—until my perspective shifted after becoming a journalist.

When I joined The Associated Press in New York in 1968, I worked grueling overnight shifts on the AP’s Broadcast News Desk. Still unmarried, I spent my free evenings at Lincoln Center, Carnegie Hall, the Metropolitan Opera, and the New York City Ballet. At the Met, I heard legendary voices—Renata Tebaldi, Birgit Nilsson, Joan Sutherland, Plácido Domingo, Richard Tucker, and Franco Corelli. Leonard Bernstein still held court at the New York Philharmonic, followed by Pierre Boulez, whose programming introduced me to modern repertoire. But returning to work after exhilarating performances was exhausting, and later, my new 4 PM-to-midnight shift all but erased my social life and concert attendance.

And so, a dream was born: to spend a year fully immersed in music, opera, and museums in New York and beyond. It took 50 years to make it happen, delayed further by the COVID-19 pandemic.

Now, I’m finally living that dream. For the past three years, I’ve held subscriptions to Carnegie Hall, the Metropolitan Opera, and the New York Philharmonic, along with memberships to The Met, MoMA, the Frick Collection, and the Guggenheim. My wife, Myung, and I attend about 30 concerts a year, including chamber music—each one a cherished experience. Our love of arts and culture extends beyond New York. In Italy, where I spent nine years as an AP correspondent, and during occasional visits to South Korea, we seek out concerts, museums, and galleries. Even in Richmond, Virginia, our other home, we enjoy fantastic museums and occasional performances. Now retired after decades of performing on the international stage as a concert cellist, my wife, Myung (Myung-Wha Chung), and I carefully plan what we will hear and see—an enjoyable ritual.

These outings and discussions have also rekindled my long-neglected reading list, focusing primarily on cultural history and artist biographies.

Undiluted bliss? Not quite. The world weighs heavily on me. The senseless destruction of lives, the shameless pursuit of national interests over the common good—these realities darken the news and dampen the optimism I strongly felt during my years at UNICEF and the UN. The very institutions I served—The Associated Press, UNICEF, even Voice of America—face relentless attacks. The hopeful vision of a connected, cooperative global village has faded.

Still, music and the arts remain my refuge. Without them, I’m not sure how I would carry on.

I attach a few photos of my dreamy life these days, at Doreen Lobo's request.

I share a few photos of my dreamy life these days for sharing with XUNICEF.

Late arrivals to a concert due to road closure

At Morgan Museum's Franz Kafka retrospective

At Lincoln Center and Carnegie Hall (with soloist Seong-Jin Cho)

At Seoul Stone Art Museum

Backstage with American Ballet Theater's prima ballerina Hee Seo

At sculptor Antonio Canova Gypsoteca Museum, North of Venice.

With a friend before La Traviata by the La Fenice (Venice) Opera, Seoul.

Myung with Maestro Riccardo Muti.