Paperwork: What did we learn from that day in a D.C. Metro Station?

I remember hearing the voice.

I was with a large group of newspaper editors and publishers, seated around a long dining table. I do not remember the restaurant, but there was a sense of elegance.

We were ready for a tasty, finishing touch to a long day of shop talk. The room was ours. Then, suddenly, the banter around the table and tapping of fork to plate faded away.

I was pulled away, leashed to the music streaming into the room. The lyrics were Italian, but I felt the message.

The resounding voice was demanding, yet gentle, and added to the comfort of the room. I wanted more.

I asked the waiter, “What is this music? Who am I listening to?”

I was then introduced to the outstanding Italian tenor Andrea Bocelli, who I later added to my stack of CDs. I also recently heard him live on stage. He has been blind since age 12, which somehow accents his gift.

I still love his compelling voice ... but it’s not the same. I have not been able to recreate that evening in the restaurant. And I’m not sure why.

I’m dwelling on this because of a recent Facebook post by a friend. She shared details about a social experiment set up by the Washington Post.

The paper arranged to have violinist Joshua Bell play six Bach pieces for about 45 minutes on a cold January morning in 2007 at the Metro Station in Washington, D.C.

About 2,000 people were part of that morning rush. Six people stopped to listen for a short while. About 20 gave money without stopping. A total of $32 was dropped into his hat.

On a violin worth $3.5 million, Bell played one of the most intricate pieces ever written. Two days before a sold-out theater in Boston heard him play the same music in seats that averaged $100 each.

The Facebook post concluded:

“If we do not have a moment to stop and listen to one of the best musicians in the world, playing some of the finest music ever written, with one of the most beautiful instruments ever made … how many other things are we missing as we rush through life?”

We all know the answer to that question. And I do wonder how long or if I would have stopped to listen?

I do not judge those who walked by. It’s easy to say they had a choice to stop and listen, but did they?

Perhaps it’s about the moment. Who we are in that moment and who the performer is at the moment help define the moment.

I met Andrea Bocelli at a perfect moment. He filled the room with harmony and hope and passion. And I did not know who he was.

Bell earned his fame with those $100 seats and the reputation that sells them. But I’d like to think somewhere inside is the musician who still feels the pride of coin and cash dropped into a hat. And the joy of the children who tried to stop and listen before their parents dragged them away.

Yes, we do rush through life. And we do miss a lot. So such moments are precious, regardless the size of the audience.

I’m betting Joshua Bell had a moment … with his music … in the middle of that morning rush.

• Lonny Cain, retired managing editor of The Times in Ottawa, also was a reporter for The Herald-News in Joliet in the 1970s. His Paperwork email is lonnyjcain@gmail.com. Or mail The Times, 110 W. Jefferson St., Ottawa, IL 61350.