Okay, I'm not sure of the exact date of the following, but Olivia was older than 9 and Ivy was in high school so it dates back to the very early days of the original big sandy bottom (R.I.P.) Figure about 2002?
Olivia doesn't play the trumpet anymore, so I haven't been to a school band concert in almost two years. I actually miss them. The recording still exists, by the way. I wish I knew how to play it on here!
When Olivia was 9 she played the clarinet, in the strictly technical sense. Badly, with no skill whatsoever, but nonetheless she played the clarinet. Due to a serendipitous event in Hawaii involving a conch shell, she is now a trumpet-player and a pretty good one too. Anyway, while Olivia has developed into a good musician, her early efforts were...well, let's just say that when she practiced her clarinet at night, it wasn't just the cats that hid in the garage.
You can imagine our surprise when we attended Olivia's first elementary school band concert and discovered that she was one of the more talented musicians in the group. (If this sounds like I am bragging, then re-read the previous paragraph and you will see what I am getting at.)
At this point, I had attended numerous band concerts to see Ivy play, both in middle school and high school. Although I wasn't expecting perfection, all of the ensembles Ivy had been involved with at least showed some skill. I wasn't expecting a bunch of 4th graders to meet even the standards of a middle school band, but I was anticipating a modicum of expertise, a glimmer of talent and potential. Silly me.
The band was conducted by a man who was possibly the most patient soul on the planet. Or perhaps he was a bit hard of hearing. If so, it was a mercy.
These kids were so bad that half of the parents in the audience were hysterically, silently, laughing their heads off during most of the event. Imagine rows of parents, shoulders shaking, tears rolling down their faces, laughing at their own children. That’s how bad these kids were.
Inflicted upon the parents were at least five renditions of “Ode to Joy”, “Mozart’s Melody” (that’s “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star” to you and me), and what has to be (hopefully) the only 2 and 1/2 hour version of the “William Tell Overture” ever played. I just kept picturing the Lone Ranger, riding ol’ Silver to this in slooow motion, finally stopping and saying, “Can we play something a little more up-tempo, a funeral dirge perhaps? Because Silver is asleep.”
Eric, who was my fiancé at the time, was unable to attend this little event. I suspect he traveled to Amsterdam on business just to avoid the concert, but I have no actual proof. Anyway, Ivy brought a tape recorder along to the concert, so we could share it with Eric at a later date. The recording brings to mind a bunch of developmentally disabled ducks involved in some tragic water-related calamity…and I don’t think the tape quality is to blame. It is a testament to Eric’s character that he married me anyway.
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