A couple of weeks ago, Big Dad and I took Jor Man to his first concert. Train and John Mayer each performed just outside of Boston. I had been thinking, the last couple of times that I was at a concert, how much Jor Man would like it, and we finally decided to make it so.
We also thought that it might be nice for Jor Man to have some time alone with mom and dad. After all, he hasn't had us to himself since, well, since Campster was born and he was three-years-old.
I was surprised how apprehensive he was. So many questions: Would it be safe? Would I stay right with him the whole time? How many people would be there? How long would it be?
I answered the questions to the best of my ability and assured him that Big Dad and I would not be taking him some place that wasn't safe for him. But, it would be a very late night. And he would see some very odd behavior.
Sure enough, there were people tailgating in the parking lot and getting really drunk. Some of the women were scantily clad. We had discussed alcohol in the past. I cook with wine, but don't drink. We've talked about drunk drivers. Jor Man thinks drinking is stupid and bad. And while I am glad he does not revere it, I think he a bit judgmental.
I decided to take the opportunity to talk about drugs. I explained that there would be people smoking marijuana at the concert. I said I wasn't sure if we would see anyone smoking it, but that we would certainly smell it. Jor Man was shocked and appalled! So cute how innocent he is. But I don't want him to be naive. We talked about what marijuana does to the body and the mind. He asked me to describe the smell. I couldn't. But I promised to tell him when I smelled it.
Sure enough, I did. And I calmly told him so. He didn't smell it at first. And then his nose shriveled up a bit, and he got a sickened look on his face (always the drama king!). "Oh, yuck!" He cried. "Why would anyone want to smell that?"
Both bands were magnificent - really impressive drums and guitar. John Mayer is amazing - reminds me of Jimi Hendrix. Jor Man was properly inspired. We haven't been able to get him off his guitar and drums since. I've noticed he is hearing music differently now - searching out the guitar lines, and differentiating between single notes and chords.
Technically, I was in my first concert. It was sixth grade, and I was singing in Carnegie Hall with the Chicago Symphony Orchestra. I was blessed to grow up in the town where the Children's Chorus sang with the CSO under George Solti and Margaret Hillis. Doreen Rao, mother of the children's choir movement was our director. I still have the piece, Mahler's Eighth Symphony, memorized, all these years later. Even though it was in latin and in german, it stirred my soul.
Great music does that - whether classical or contemporary. I hope you will make the effort to take your children to see some really great music performed.
The video below is not me, and not even the CSO, but it is my favorite part - the finale of Mahler's Eighth. Enjoy!
Wish you were here!