On music, memory and a massacre
The other night, we took a family trip to the middle school, to see our son play in the middle school band concert. It was in the gym. It was crowded. It was lovely. I've learned that one of my absolute favorite activities of adulthood is to see school performances of any kind; there is something eternally endearing about watching young children perform in front of a crowd of parents. Last night, at our concert, the students played beautifully. They played Ode to Joy; Joyeux Noel, Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, a Hanukkah Song and many, many more tunes. Yes, there were squeaky notes. Yes, there were some off-kilter renditions of classic holiday tunes. Yes, there were, on occasion, very young and very bored young siblings cantering up and down the gym floor in front of the band. But each musician was so intent on the performance; each musician had practiced diligently prior to the concert; each musician did his or her best last night. It was indeed a lovely night. Each class h...