Last night kicked off the annual Music Festival in my wee little town and I was there for the evening of musical sensations. I had to get there early, really early, since my youngest daughter, Kaitlyn was performing.
I didn’t mind this, because it afforded me the opportunity to seek and claim prime real estate. I had 10,000 seats to choose from, so based on Kaitlyn’s position on the floor and I staked out a seat directly above her. Perfection achieved!
However, being only one singular body, I could only claim one piece of the row. One seat. This left room for others to horn in on my space of perfection. Being the lucky soul that I am, I got a big family that filed in next to me. Being the extraordinary person that I am, I got the little boy of theirs, age….oh 6 or 7….right next to me, elbow to elbow.
Right out the gate, the little one figured out his chair rocked, sorta. He took all his amped energy and tried to work it out and through that chair of his…squeak, squeak, squeak, rapid fire, squeak squeak……He held onto the arm rests and drove that chair like it would take off eventually and shoot for the sky. After the first 30 minutes of listening to that, it took everything in me not to jump up and sit my ass down on top of him to just stop the insanity.
I have to assume his Mother didn’t stop him because the concert hadn’t started yet and she was letting him dissolve some of that energy. That, or she is completely and totally immune to such noises coming from her son..(or she had highly evolved selective hearing)…..Occasionally he’d pause and belt out, “I’m soooooooooooo bored” and resume his back and forth squeak…..I know, I could have moved, but my seat was perfection! The area had filled up, I would have been banished to the nosebleed section if I had tossed a drumstick in.
Finally the concert started. I kicked back, ready to soak up the music and made a little prayer to Beethoven to bring mercy on my coveted location. All I can say is the louder the music got, the louder little man protested.
“I’m going to dieeeeeeeeeeeee” was his favorite. He said this, loudly, no less the 20 times during the night.
Another favorite of mine became, “Mommyyyyy!! Why are you torturing me???!!!”
During the jazz segment I admit, I had to laugh at him. He covered his ears in agony, squirmed around backwards in his chair and shook his head wildly back and forth like a possessed kid chanting, “Make it gooooo away, Make it go awayyyyyy” Honestly, it took restraint on my part, but I swallowed down my own potential chant of “The power of Christ compels you, The power of Christ compels YOU!”
I’ve always thought any age is the perfect age to be introduced to musical types. His Mom had him there, that’s listening under force……or in his case, duress. I have to give her credit for trying. But he didn’t seem to enjoy any of it. Be it the choir, the orchestra, the honors band and especially NOT the Jazz band.
It makes me wonder what type of music he’ll ultimately enjoy in life. Will his musical tastes be well rounded or will he find one single type and remain steadfast. I’m always interested in people’s music choices. I believe it tells a lot about the individual and even personality. I know I’m all over the place with my music, I listen to it all, with the exception of Jazz. Little man and I agreed on one thing. Jazz, for both of us, is mentally painful. And you? Does Jazz sooth your soul or does it feel like someone is driving a dull screw through your skull?