Nat

Tonight at my stepdaughter’s school, the jazz bands and chorus from the junior and senior high schools performed for 90 minutes. My stepdaughter is in eighth grade and plays flute in the junior high jazz band. The concert was beautiful and amazing.

Their school system is small, a regional school shared by three small towns in eastern Massachusetts, none of the towns bigger than 6,000 people. The high school has fewer than 500 students. And yet the music groups are outstanding year after year. This year, the eastern Massachusetts regional jazz band draws 25% of its players from our little school.

There are many reasons: chief among them the dedication from kindergarten all the way through senior year of immensely dedicated music teachers and conductors. They have all been teaching in the system for more than 15 years. All take groups to state competitions each year and take home medals. It’s very impressive.

But the best part by far is how much joy the students take in how well they play. They criticize themselves brutally and don’t like to play badly. They practice hard. Most of all, they listen to one another. This is incredibly rare. I can’t tell you how many professional meetings I attend where many people talk, but few listen to the otheres in the room.

My stepdaughter played a flute solo tonight on a Nora Jones song. My wife and I stole a look at one another as we always do when our child surprises us. It was beautiful, and I am a harsh critic.

The high school band played a Miles Davis number called Black and Green. It was moody and gentle and groovy. The kids in one group stood in the back of the room and applauded and hollered for each song by another group. The whole evening made me want to cry for joy. We are very fortunate.

This is two topics, but I can’t decide between them, and I need to write about them both. The negative one first.

The last three days, I’ve crammed in an insane amount of activity. All of it was things I wanted to do, for myself, my family, my friends. Last night, the result was that I stayed up until 2 on a work night. Tomorrow I have training at 6:30, which means leaving the house at 5:30, so I’ll be tired again.

This is the only part of my adult life I find really demoralizing again and again: I would like not to feel so frantic about all that I have to do. I would like to do fewer things and get to bed earlier.

Still, they were all great things. I watched my stepdaughter and her band win a medal. I am commenting on a friend’s manuscript. I’m commenting on another friend’s blog. For my writer friends I would take on any small thing. They are busy, and they are determined, and I love what they are writing. Admiration has always motivated me. It is a great thrill to be in the company of other writers.

Now for the positive part of the post–gift giving. By coincidence, my wife didn’t have cases today. So she was able to go to the grocery store after dropping off my stepdaughter at school and buy a huge sheet cake to celebrate their band victory yesterday.

My wife took the cake to the school and left it for the band director, Mr. Farmer. Because he had given the band the day off from rehearsal, they all had time to eat the cake and drink some sparkling cider. Apparently they got a big kick out of the cake. My wife is a master gift giver. She always knows when and what to give. It makes all of us feel special. Her knowledge of what we want and need makes us feel studied and appreciated by her.

I love her for it, and I love the gifts she picks out. Tomorrow I’ll write about the quilt she gave me.

All of a sudden I’m finding out that many people I know are already playing guitar, starting with Michael. Tonight another friend told me she has returned to playing guitar.

I’ve been wanting to start lessons since August, when I visited the show room of the Gibson guitar factory in Memphis. They don’t make the acoustic guitars at that factory; those are only made in Montana, but they do have some there for sale, and they are beautiful. True works of art.

There is something about string instruments. The really well made ones are a perfect combination of beauty and function. They are works of art, and they allow you to create art. It’s a fascinating combination. When I was young, I played the cello. Badly, because I rarely practiced. If I were to take up the guitar now, I would want to practice.

Friends tell me it would take a year of hard work to be able to play something interesting. I’m going to start soon.

Does anyone have advice about how much work it takes at first?

I’ve become a big fan of the show, because I’ve always loved the spectacle of humans demonstrating their tremendous skill, the outcome of their great passion and effort. There are several contestants this year, among the women, who achieve great musicality when they sing. They don’t have to sell a song because they can inhabit it.

Tonight, Melinda Doolittle brought down the house singing “My Funny Valentine.” The phrasing was great. Her stage movements were engaging and well connected to the song. Her lower register was deep and vibrant. The judges loved it, and so did I.

I’ve also been thinking about a book I just started reading, “>Living Buddha, Living Christ, by Thich Nhat Hahn. In it, Nhat Hahn, the famous Vietnamese Buddhist, describes the many similarities between the Buddha and Jesus Christ. It’s very moving to see how he brings together two towering figures who embody different traditions and makes them examples of the same great enlightenment.

Greatness inspires me. Keep singing, Idols.