Capt. Cook and I traveled to Three-Musketeer Land yesterday. We always look forward to our time with boundless energy, smiles, kisses, and hugs. We were amazed at the delight that decades-old Legos brought to a wide range of ages. Not realizing what had been carefully packed up and preserved, upon opening the Lego carrying cases, Daddy Musketeer discovered several Lego structures he had made, still together in my favorite of all storage methods - a Ziploc bag. Someday my loved ones will undoubtedly find many strange things carefully preserved in Ziploc bags.
One of the other highlights of yesterday was being able to attend Musketeer-the-Eldest's first piano recital. My rendition of the event may be ho-hum to those readers who never had the occasion to either play in a recital, attend a recital, give a recital or organize a recital.....but if you fall into any one of the four latter categories, you may have your own flashbacks as I recall yesterday afternoon.
First of all, there is hardly anything, I repeat - hardly anything more button-busting than parents watching their child (or children) perform in or on anything. When I was teaching, this was never more apparent than when the beginning band would perform in the first concert of the school year. If you have attended a concert featuring a beginning band - especially the first of the year - you will know about that which I write. Let's just say that when a beginning band performs for the first time, the definition of perfection must be re-calibrated. Having said that, the feeling of success from the students and the evidence of parental pride is never more palpable than during a beginning band's first performance.
Recitals are no different than beginning band performances. The venue, in yesterday's case a beautiful church sanctuary, was filled with proud grandparents, even prouder parents, lots of nervous energy and one probably slightly nervous piano teacher. When dealing with students, of any age, the element of nerves always presents itself with unpredictable outcomes. I can tell you that from the previous vantage point of a performer, a parent and a teacher, you never quite know what the final product will be until the last note is played. This is just the way of live performing. I do remember the feeling of nervous anticipation when Capt. Cook's and my children would take the stage, seat themselves at the piano (or cello), place their hands on the keys and begin to play. Holding my breath was never hard during the early, short pieces but as the years went by and greater skill meant longer pieces, I'm certain my face was blue when they finished.
Recitals are also microcosms of humanity. The performers present themselves in all age ranges, all shapes and sizes, all manner of dress, widely differing approaches to playing, wide-ranges of performance body language from the stiff and stilted to the "in-the-moment" swaying back and forth with the music, comically different ways to take and leave the stage, and varying emotional looks from wild enthusiasm to thinly veiled fear. Yesterday's selection titles ranged from Shinichi Suzuki's "Twinkle Variation A", to the final performer who played Claud Debussy's "Arabesque No. 1".
Yes, I was among the audience members who left with all buttons busted. "Musketeer-the-Eldest", who has had three lessons, performed Suzuki's "Twinkle Variation 'A'", a button-busting performance if ever I heard one!
It was a great day. A great day, indeed.
Ancora imparo
