And so ends the music
And with a crescendo, some bows and some tears, the years of high school music are over. I’ve lost track of how many concerts, how many odd practice moments there have been. A lot of vicarious living.
From the afternoon where we went to our local high school as part of the “introduce the parents to the system”, back in the last century, I’ve waited for the call. The invitation; to take a chair and join the band. It wouldn’t have mattered which instrument. Versatility is fun.
My kids “took up the torch” and then “held it high”. Each in his own way. Each one finding the proper way to wear that set of garments called musical performance. My only regret is that we’re reached the al fine. No coda.
My trusty recording device toughed it through until the last wave of the baton; with any battery operated gadget, there’s a risk that things will go dark a few measures early. After some editing of applause, some cutting away of the long waits for the conductor to raise the baton, I’ll have a record (literally and figuratively) to store away for posterity.
We (the parents) left the concert hall in the accustomed manner, with a heavy instrument case and a folder of sheet music. The performer has other priorities, more social in nature. It’s late enough that I’ll abstain from practicing any chromatic scales this evening. My embouchure is out of tone, in any case. Maybe tomorrow. After all, the underlying theme of this blog remains “Tuba or not tuba”. That is my question.
