Yesterday, I had the occasion to attend a "Coffeehouse Concert" at the music conservatory where one of my sons is learning to play the drums. This is a highly elegant name for what is, in effect, a mini-recital in the middle of the season.
Signing up for this coffeehouse has been very good for my son... his desire for playing the drums, and subsequent practice habits, had flagged somewhat of late, and the goal of getting prepared for the gig has spurred him back into it with a gusto.
But it's still a recital. And those things carry some bad juju in the parenting world... the jokes abound about the suffering and misery of the recital (except, of course, for when your own little darling is up...)
And yes, I concede that some of the performances have all the surface appeal of listening to Wolverine walking through a chalkboard store. And it is patently obvious that a certain percentage of the young folks seem to be participating solely because someone is forcing them to...
But then. But then, there are those. Those young people whose faces radiate their feelings as they play their favorite instruments. Effused with a true love of music, they brave their performance anxiety in order to learn the crucial element of being able to ply this craft in front of an audience. It is easy to pick out the ones who are still taking these lessons because they love music and they love to make music.
And I realized yesterday that there are few things as powerful as watching a young boy or girl, a young man or woman, play a musical instrument with joy and happiness, realizing that you are seeing the next link in a chain of musical legacy that stretches back over the centuries of human existence. Whether it's drums played to the Clash, acoustical guitar covers of The Police, or piano versions of Greensleeves and Ode to Joy, music is a gift from God, and it is truly a blessing to see young people who are infected with a love of it, and a love of the very difficult craft of playing it and carrying on that tremendous tradition.
So, the next time you have to "suffer" through a recital, listen for those nuggets.... revel in those young men and women who are so obviously reveling in their music. And count yourself lucky to be part of the great symphony/oratorio/opera/gig that is Life.
Signing up for this coffeehouse has been very good for my son... his desire for playing the drums, and subsequent practice habits, had flagged somewhat of late, and the goal of getting prepared for the gig has spurred him back into it with a gusto.
But it's still a recital. And those things carry some bad juju in the parenting world... the jokes abound about the suffering and misery of the recital (except, of course, for when your own little darling is up...)
And yes, I concede that some of the performances have all the surface appeal of listening to Wolverine walking through a chalkboard store. And it is patently obvious that a certain percentage of the young folks seem to be participating solely because someone is forcing them to...
But then. But then, there are those. Those young people whose faces radiate their feelings as they play their favorite instruments. Effused with a true love of music, they brave their performance anxiety in order to learn the crucial element of being able to ply this craft in front of an audience. It is easy to pick out the ones who are still taking these lessons because they love music and they love to make music.
And I realized yesterday that there are few things as powerful as watching a young boy or girl, a young man or woman, play a musical instrument with joy and happiness, realizing that you are seeing the next link in a chain of musical legacy that stretches back over the centuries of human existence. Whether it's drums played to the Clash, acoustical guitar covers of The Police, or piano versions of Greensleeves and Ode to Joy, music is a gift from God, and it is truly a blessing to see young people who are infected with a love of it, and a love of the very difficult craft of playing it and carrying on that tremendous tradition.
So, the next time you have to "suffer" through a recital, listen for those nuggets.... revel in those young men and women who are so obviously reveling in their music. And count yourself lucky to be part of the great symphony/oratorio/opera/gig that is Life.
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