Tag Archives: music

Amadeus and my own preternaturally precocious offspring.

One of the things we did during our cozy, snowbound weekend was to watch Milos Forman’s film Amadeus. It cracked me up to see my children wince every time Tom Hulce broke out his maniacal giggle. I remember doing the exact same thing the first time I watched it.

After three blissfully lazy days at home, I was sad to have to report to work on Monday. My children had known since the day before that they wouldn’t have to go to school. They didn’t have to go today either, and we’ve already gotten the call announcing that there’s no school tomorrow. It’s quite possible that they may never have to go back ever again.

Yesterday morning, as I put on my winter gear to battle the elements, I began delivering my marching orders to the children, “So, since you’re going to be home all day long with nothing else to do…”

IMG_2552“NO, Mom!,” my impertinent little daughter interrupted me, “We’re not going to be able to find a cure for cancer, or broker a peace treaty, or solve the problem of world hunger by the time you get home!”

“Ummm, no. That’s actually not what I was going to say at all!”

“Oh!” my daughter said sheepishly and with understandable surprise, since that is the speech I usually give on these occasions.

“As you now know, Mozart composed his first symphony at the age of four and…what was it? His first full length opera by the age of 12? How old are you now? Ten? Waaaay older than Mozart when he wrote that first symphony. So surely, it’s perfectly reasonable to expect that with a whole day free to work on it, you and your brothers together could come up with some sort of composition. It doesn’t even have to be as taxing as a symphony. How about you come up with, say… a concerto for a string quartet, by the time I get back from work?”

I called later that afternoon to have my husband tell the children how much I was looking forward to hearing their composition that evening.

They rushed to meet me at the door when I arrived home.

“We wrote the concerto, but not for strings! We’d love to play it for you, but unfortunately, we wrote it for an instrument we don’t have…It’s for the didgeridoo.”

For Carla

For my friend Carla with love and admiration.

 

May you build a ladder to the stars.

Canticle of the Turning

My kids and I sang Rory Cooney’s Canticle of the Turning with our choir this Sunday. The lyrics are based on the Magnificat, Mary’s song of praise when she learns that she will give birth to Jesus, the baby who will usher in a time of peace when the wolf lies down with the lamb, when swords are beaten into plowshares and spears into pruning hooks:

My soul cries out with a joyful shout that the God of my heart is great,
And my spirit sings of the wondrous things that you bring to the ones who wait.
You fixed your sight on your servant’s plight, and my weakness you did not spurn,
So from east to west shall my name be blessed.
Could the world be about to turn?

Though I am small, my God, my all, you work great things in me,
And your mercy will last from the depths of the past to the end of the age to be.
Your very name puts the proud to shame, and those who would for you yearn,
You will show your might, put the strong to flight, for the world is about to turn.

From the halls of power to the fortress tower, not a stone will be left on stone.
Let the king beware for your justice tears every tyrant from his throne.
The hungry poor shall weep no more, for the food they can never earn;
There are tables spread, every mouth be fed, for the world is about to turn. 

Though the nations rage from age to age, we remember who holds us fast:
God’s mercy must deliver us from the conqueror’s crushing grasp.
This saving word that our forebears heard is the promise which holds us bound,
‘Til the spear and rod can be crushed by God, who is turning the world around.

My heart shall sing of the day you bring.
Let the fires of your justice burn.
Wipe away all tears, for the dawn draws near,
And the world is about to turn.

In the hour before, I had been with the 4th and 5th graders at our church in Sunday School, trying to make sense of the lectionary text from the Book of Mark on which the lesson was based. Jesus describes the apocalypse and signs of the end times to his disciples: “Nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom. There will be earthquakes in various places, and famines…” And what will happen to the magnificent edifices built by man? As Mary sings: “Not a stone will be left on stone.”

A terrifying vision. A terrifying reality.

The background information provided to teachers of this week’s lesson entitled “Future Hope” read: “Earthquakes, terror, economic crisis – the times in which we live bring challenge and doubt; our faith can become battered by fear, rather than buoyed by trust…” Indeed. Given recent events, the lesson seemed weirdly prescient and disturbingly apt; the exhortation to hope – absurd.

Over the weekend my fellow teachers and I had had a brief email exchange to decide whether or not to discuss the acts of terror that had just occurred around the world during class on Sunday. We decided that we would not bring them up ourselves, but would be prepared for a discussion if the children wanted to talk about the attacks. They didn’t.

We tried to strike a hopeful tone. We talked about the ways in which life has improved over the years with advances in medicine and the end of the Cold War as examples. We sang How Firm a Foundation, in which we are reassured that:

When through the deep waters I call you to go,
the rivers of sorrow shall not overflow,
for I will be with you in trouble to bless,
and sanctify to you your deepest distress.

Honestly, I was finding little comfort in these words.

At the end of the hour, the children were asked to draw a picture of or to write about their hopes for the future. I wish I had thought to take some photos of their work! Here are a few of the radical and simple ideas they came up with:

  • Food, water, and books for everyone.
  • World peace.
  • No war. No hunger. No illness.

My faith may be battered by fear, but I am buoyed by the innate goodness of children and their dreams for a secure future for everyone. May we all find a way to live as they do: not in fear, but with hope for a world about to turn.

 

Weekend Snapshots 25

Even I, dogged chronicler that I am, have to admit that some moments are impossible to capture in words or on film. This weekend was full of those moments…

Friday

My fifteen year old came back from his pilgrimage with his youth group to Arizona. I picked him up late at night in the church parking lot. I drove him home with a smile on my face as I listened to him talk about the adventures he’d had.

“The Grand Canyon is amazing. Even more amazing than you can imagine. Pictures don’t do it justice.”

As we pulled off the interstate we slowed down so that I could show him another of the world’s wonders in our own backyard. There is a scrubby, weedy tree to the left as you exit the highway onto the dark country road which leads to my house. I believe it’s called a Tree of Heaven. In the daytime you wouldn’t look twice at it. For the past few nights, the whole canopy has been full of twinkling fireflies. The effect is indescribably beautiful.

Saturday

My very dear friendy Wendy, whom I’ve known since high school, came to visit me this weekend to say goodbye. After teaching elementary school kids in Arlington for almost twenty years, she is moving on to a new chapter of her life. Sadly for me, that chapter takes place all the way on the other side of this great big country.

My friendy Wendy

There would have been more photos, but for the fact that we spent the afternoon, evening, night, and the next day doing nothing but talking, talking, talking. (OK, and maybe we ate a little, too)!

Mas Tapas

As we drove back home late on Saturday night, I was glad to be able to show her the firefly tree.

Sunday

The next day as my friend prepared to drive back, I tried to express the ineffable sense of joy I felt for the new direction her life is taking mingled with my sorrow that she will be so far away.

“It’s NOT goodbye, Ada,” she said, using my old childhood nickname, “We’ll see each other soon, I promise!”

Later that night, I met up with my friend Katherine to go to the Charlottesville Free Clinic’s annual benefit concert at the Pavilion on the Downtown Mall. I was dismayed to see all of the signs forbidding any photography or recording. But as I sat with my friend in the sultry summer air and listened to the Indigo Girls and Mary Chapin Carpenter without once picking up my camera, I felt like I could swim in the music. For the final song – in gorgeous three-part harmony, some of it without any accompaniment at all – all three women sang The Water is Wide. I was spellbound.

On my drive home, I decided that I had to record an image of the firefly tree. I exited the highway, and pulled off to the side of the road where I tried and tried to capture the picture. No matter what setting or camera I tried, all I could get was a black frame. I finally gave up and drove the rest of the way home. My son was still up when I got back. We chatted about the music I had heard, and I looked up some of my favorite songs and played them for him on youtube. It just wasn’t the same. I kept finding myself saying apologetically, “It sounded much more amazing live…”

The truth is, sometimes the most beautiful moments can’t be pinned down. You just have to show up and be there.

Related Posts:

The Torpedo Factory with my Friendy Wendy

 

 

Making Music

I found these old photos of our year in Carrboro, North Carolina…

There was a beautiful grand piano in the house we rented.

One day our son, a 1st grader at the time, emerged from the bedroom he was sharing with his brother, dressed in a suit and tie for no reason at all…

On second thought, it was a special occasion. What better reason is there to dress up, if not to hang out with the people you love?

I’ll be seeing my little band of musicians off this weekend as they leave for England (my husband and two younger children) and Arizona (my oldest child). Can’t wait to make music with them again in a couple of weeks!

4/4 Violin

My daughter has been growing like a weed and is ready to move up to a full size violin. I caught her as she was opening up the first of the two violins and three bows she has on trial this week. She’s having a ball trying to decide which combination she likes best!

 

Believe it or not.

This one goes down in the annals of “Things I Never Believed Would Happen in My Lifetime.”

My son started taking piano lessons when he was five years old. Since then, I’ve spent a good portion of the last nine years of my life nagging and brandishing a whip in his general direction to get him to practice. I couldn’t possibly count the number of arguments we’ve had about whether or not he could quit taking lessons.

Last night in the middle of studying for his Spanish test and writing up notes for Biology, he headed to the piano. He’s been doing this lately as a way of relaxing and taking a break from his studies. What an immense joy it is for me to hear him play the piano for his own pleasure! Still, ever in parent mode, I heard this admonishment escape from my lips: “Don’t practice for too long!” (The poor boy can never win)!

It was during a conversation negotiation I had with his nine-year-old sister that I truly appreciated how astonishing that statement was. His sister has been chafing under the constraints of the “boring” songs in her Suzuki violin book and has even hinted that she may be ready to give up playing.

From the other room, my son called out to her: “Don’t stop playing! You’ll regret it. I used to be just like you. I hated practicing, but now I really like it and I’m glad I didn’t quit!” He ambled into the living room to join the conversation.

“Well, I don’t want to play the songs in the Suzuki book. I want to play River Flows in You,” she insisted. This is a song by the Korean composer Yiruma. My son recently discovered his music and has taught himself how to play the song by ear. It’s one of his favorite pieces at the moment, so we have the pleasure of hearing it often.

I shot him a dirty look and jokingly said, “I blame YOU.”

In response, he dispensed this nugget of wisdom to his little sister: “You can do other songs if you want, but you need to keep up with the Suzuki book. The songs are designed to make you a more confident player. They’ll help you hone your skills.”

What the hell?! Am I being punked? Adolescence was no joke, but the cacophanous noise of pointless arguing and grinding gears is starting to fade out, and I could swear I’m beginning to hear the faint strains of sweet music in my ears.

2014

For the past four years or so, we’ve been making holiday videos in lieu of sending Christmas cards. This year, I had serious doubts that it was going to happen, but here it is after all…Our rather rough-around-the-edges Holiday video for 2014, featuring every single member of the family playing an instrument, pretending to be an instrument, beatboxing, whistling, singing, etc. etc.:

 

Happy New Year!