Reflecting on 12 years, one iPhone and an empty seat (but the spirit was present)

For 12 straight years, December has meant one sacred ritual: my son and I dressing up, heading to Symphony Center and diving into the Noche navideña pre-concert event.

We’d reconnect with friends, bump into familiar faces, enjoy holiday treats, soak in the program — often themed with or featuring Christmas songs in Spanish (known as villancicos) — and finally settle into our seats for Merry, Merry Chicago!, the program that puts a bow on the holiday season at Symphony Center. It’s never just a concert; it’s a joyful family reunion set to world-class music, perfectly timed for hugs, laughter and the unmistakable feeling that the season has truly begun.

This year, however, I experienced it in a completely new way: horizontal, confined to home and medically grounded. I fully intended to rest and disconnect — but instead, I found myself glued to my iPhone as if it was my lifeline to a cherished tradition.

Messages began rolling in even before the reception began: “Where are you?” A bit later: “The children’s choir is incredible!” Followed by: “They’re on fire — haven’t seen you anywhere!” Then: “You’re late!” And finally: “I didn’t see you at the pre-concert reception!”

Somewhere between emojis, voice-mail notes and breathless play-by-plays, it became clear: I was very much missed. Without leaving my bed, I knew exactly what was happening — who was singing, who was dazzling and just how magical the event was unfolding.

The flurry of messages kept coming: “Are you not here?” “Running late?” “What’s wrong??” My iPhone lit up with multiple missed calls from my friend Laura Díaz, clearly worried I hadn’t appeared at Noche navideña. Juan Solana, the CSO Latino Alliance co-chair, already knew I wouldn’t make it. I’d warned him, yet he kept checking in, anyway. Not long after, photos started arriving from his wife, Rosalind — always cheerful — quietly saying: See what you’re missing!

Even from afar, even though I was confined to my room, the music, the joy and the community carried through. And somehow, it felt as if I were right there, part of the magic, hugging friends, laughing with families and celebrating the start of the season just as I always have.

Later, I heard that my name had been mentioned as a regular who wasn’t there for the first time ever — which, strangely, felt like an honor. That’s when it hit me: this is my favorite tribe, one we’ve built over the last 12 years, alongside one of the greatest orchestras in the world. I never imagined I’d miss this concert — much less experience it so vividly through a constant stream of texts and photos before, during and after the reception.

The next day, María Carbonell, chair of the events committee, messaged the group: “This was my first Merry, Merry Chicago! and what a beautiful event and concert we had!” A simple note, but a powerful reminder of why these gatherings matter — how traditions form, how community strengthens and how music brings us together.

Juan Solana summed it up best, channeling exactly what everyone was telling him: “Great event! Full house! Attendees were ecstatic about the flow, the music and the goodies. Happy holidays!”

Yes — we absolutely need more of this.

I heard — entirely through text messages — just how magical the event was. Enrique Castillo, a CSO Latino Alliance member, messaged me the next day: “Orchestra Hall ... pure holiday magic! Beautiful music, festive energy and such a heartwarming sense of community.”

I learned from various sources how the musicians and singers didn’t just perform — they soared, lifting the whole room with them. And the pre-concert Noche navideña reception once again proved it’s the true crown jewel of the Latino Alliance’s Nuestras noches series: families reconnect, kids dash around in their holiday best and friends bump into each other after a year apart, picking up conversations exactly where they left off last December.

My family was there. My son was there. My friends were there. I was the only one missing — physically.

And yet, somehow, I felt completely present. Almost suspiciously so. Maybe after 12 years, Noche navideña isn’t just an event — it’s muscle memory. Or maybe it’s proof that this community has done something extraordinary: we didn’t just attend Nuestras noches, we claimed them. We infused them with warmth, rhythm, family and that unmistakable Latino flair that turns a concert into a full-blown tradition.

This year, again, the music played on. The community showed up. The tradition held strong. Families came together for what, for many, is the one reception and concert of the year — a space where youth are present, where children listen, watch and absorb.

In a fast-changing world, it was powerful to see young people embracing tradition, reminded that music and community anchor us through time. And even from afar, I was reminded that when something is built with heart, you don’t really miss it — you carry it with you.

¡Nos vemos el proximo mes!