Week 5 - adult memoir

I sat in the audience watching the children shuffle back and forth across the stage muttering and stammering their lines, reminding myself its the effort not the results that matter in the third grade play.  Surrounded by parents, I could hear them shifting around on the metal chairs, just as I was, optimistically trying to find a way to sit for the remainder of the performance without their entire behind falling asleep.  There was little chance of the parents themselves falling asleep since there were a couple "main" characters who must have heard "speak loud and clear" a few too many times.  One little boy in particular I will never forget.  His character was one of the many farm animals, the pig, but he had a remarkable amount of lines in the production. 

"OINK, OINK!!" 

Those were his only words (well what else does a pig say?), but he made four of five different entrances, and each time delivered in same exact way, yelling at the top of his lungs.  We, the collective (captive?) parent audience, chuckled each time, it was a nice marker to break up the monotony.  Halfway through, a tall red-headed boy stepped out from the wings.  He looked nervous and must have decided that if he didn't look at the audience he could pretend that they weren't there.  Clearing his throat carefully, he delivered his lines.  I don't remember what they were, but I remember that I was able to hear them over the shifting and shuffling.  Afterward, before he made his exit stage-right, he stole a glance out into the audience to where I was sitting. I gave him a big smile and a thumbs up.  After he exited, I allowed my mind to wander to what I was going to make for dinner and whether or not I remembered to start the laundry before I left the house, until it was time to clap and cheer as the cast came out for their final bows.

I have found that as children get older, performances get longer - whether they are plays or concerts - and yet the seating arrangements stay uncomfortably the same.  Sitting in yet another folding metal chair with a numb rear end, I decided that next time I would change things up and sit on the bleacher seats instead - same butt-numbing results, but the advantage of a higher viewpoint which comes in handy when attending a middle school band concert.  At least with concerts there is no worry of being unable to hear, microphones and speakers flanked the bank to amplify the piece enough that even the parents who stayed at home could hear it.  Sadly at this level there are few solos, and since technique is still rather questionable most songs are jauntily called "marches" while sounding more like a "funeral dirge."  They also sound remarkably the same. Having heard the trombone portion of these pieces many many times at home the week prior, there were few surprises aside from the accidental squeaks from one of the clarinets or saxophones. 

I shifted a bit more and glanced at the parent next to me.  She was sitting at an angle with her arms stretched out in front of her, holding a video camera not shifting a bit, to ensure a steady shot.  I wondered with a smile, seriously how often would that home movie be watched?  Honestly I was hoping that I would be able to get the tune out of my head in the near future, forget watching it over and over for fun (altough the idea of watching it while sitting on a couch was appealing).  It was also rather depressing when I rembered my son telling me the coolest part of playing his instrument was the little valve that he opened occasionally to blow the spit out of the long brass arm.  I guess I could be glad that he sat in the back row of the band at least.

High school concerts are the big leagues of the public school concert world.  Programs are handed out at the entrance.  I took two just in case, one for reading through and using as reference during the performance (and then as a fan once the air became sifling) and the other to tuck carefully away to take home and put in the scrapbook with the pictures I would take.  I had my digital camera, video camera, and tripod all stored in my handy camera bag, along with extra rechargable batteries and AC adaptors tucked in the side pockets.  Over my other should I carried my purse, hastily cleaned out at home and refilled with bottles of water, granola bars, tissues, and a foldable seat cushion (it was a large purse).  I saw a lot of familiar faces as I found a seat.  We were all like an extended family by now, seeing each other four or five times a year at these same functions.  I set up camp mid-way up the bleachers in the center section, just 5 rows down from the top where there were several wall outlets, just in case.  I waved at another mom heading up the steps with similar gear in tow.  She scooted past me and began setting up as well.  We chatted a bit while getting comfy, placing our jackets beside us to make sure no one encroached in our territory, and looked through the program commenting on the soloist selections and pieces that the children were performing.

The audience hushed as the performers quickly and quietly entered and took their beginning places.  Scanning the group, I turned on the video camera and adjusted the zoom so that I would be able to see all of them so that I wouldn't have to adjust it except to get closer for the solos.  The director stepped up and described the different pieces for this performance, introduced the soloists and walked towards the small band that would be palying the music.  As the band began, the singers all began the choreographed steps, smiles in place.  I spotted my son near the back with most of the other boys, all looking rather dashing in white dinner jackets and bow ties, and snapped a few still photos of him, and them, as they stepped and moved to the music. 

I find that the show chior is aptly named, it certainly is a complete show with amazing vocals.  The song shifted to another as the ladies melted away and the gentlemen stepped forward.  My son took a step further toward the microphone and I zoomed in the camera as he began his solo piece.  I held my breath.  He had been practicing all week, humming under his breath and doing scales while in the shower, and it had paid off - he was fantastic.  I managed to get a picture or two of him before I had to dig for the tissues in my purse.  What an amazing journey he had brought me on, from school to school, group to group, concert to concert, and I was so thankful that he did.  Standing there in the spotlight, smiling as the applause (his applause) began to swell, his eyes met mine and I gave him two thumbs up.