The phone rings at 9 a.m. The number looks familiar, but I answer before I can place it. It’s them again. What do they want? Money. Membership. Support. Fund-raising. The phone rings several days later. It’s a different number. I answer before I remember not to. My brain is fuzzy; I haven’t had coffee yet.

“Hi, Kara, this is the New York Philharmonic,” the voice on the phone says.

“I’m not interested,” I say, trying to get off the phone as quickly as possible, feeling, once again, like a total heel.

I don’t not want to support them; I just don’t actually want to. Read More