Change Is Hard

…but change is certain.


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Turned out OK

It’s a new season for the local community band.  We performed our Halloween concert tonight; on an evening when the wind was howling and the rain pouring we had perhaps 200 or more people show up.  Seemed like a good crowd to me.

I’ve been dreading this concert.  Previous years we’ve shared the stage with a couple of middle school bands, but this year we didn’t have any six graders to help us fill the house with parents, and we had to learn a whole lot more music since it was only us.  We’ve had 6 weeks to rehearse…and I missed last week while I was gallivanting out in California.  Plus I guess it’s just human nature to put off practicing until the concert is right on top of us.

Last night’s rehearsal was the worst I have ever endured.  We sounded terrible.  With a capital T.  It was so discouraging!  After a full day of work and a two hour rehearsal  I came home and practiced for another hour.  Still, though I knew I was as ready as I could be,  I didn’t sleep as I worried about how horrible tonight’s concert was going to be.

I even told my husband not to come.

I worried all day at work.  I worried as I drove through the blinding rain and as I changed into the band outfit in the car.  (I figured it was pouring rain, who was going to be standing out there watching me change?)  I worried as I warmed up.  I worried as we were announced.  To be honest I worried until the first piece was done and we at least all ended at the same time.  In a community band ending at the same time is reason for celebration.

Turns out it was OK.  We had people in the audience dressed in costume, kids there dressed as wizards, and butterflies, ghosts and princesses.  Most of the music sounded relatively fine.  We got a standing ovation that went on and on…and we didn’t have an encore prepared!  The conductor told the audience we’d have an encore prepared if they’d give us a standing ovation again at our holiday concert in December.  They laughed.  So did we.

And my husband?  He showed up even though I told him not to come.  And he said it sounded OK.

From him that’s high praise indeed.


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Fall begins the music

A sure sign that we have moved beyond summer has nothing to do with leaves changing, or cooler evenings or even threats of frost.  The most emphatic sign for me is when the community band starts rehearsing again.

This week I went to my first rehearsal.  I haven’t played all summer.   That’s a bad thing.  I could use the excuse that I had my instrument in the shop getting a tune up.  And I did.  But I didn’t take it in until sometime in late July.  So I have no excuse for not playing in June and July.

Tuesday night as we ran through what seemed like endless sheets of music I knew I was out of shape.  I was hot and tired and more than that was often dizzy from blowing inefficiently into the mouthpiece of my instrument.  Not a good combination.  I won’t even comment on the missed accidentals, fingering mistakes, the times I was lost.  The multitude of times I looked up at the clock, hoping for an end to my misery.

The good news is that I was not alone in that misery.  The bad news is that I was not alone.  We sounded pretty terrible.  But we have a few weeks before the Halloween concert, and my stand-mate and I have made a pact to practice at least four times this week.

Wait.  It’s already Thursday night and I haven’t practiced.  How many nights are there between now and Tuesday?  I need to stay focused and make sure I get that practice in.

Because I don’t want to spend another Tuesday night sweating and trying not to fall over.  No one else wants that either.


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Michigan Renaissance Festival plus a Katie-girl

Sunday Katie and I got word that a friend of ours was playing her fiddle at the Michigan Renaissance Festival which coincidentally is right up the road from our house.  And since we weren’t doing anything in particular we decided to head on over there and see what was happening.

It was just Katie and I and a few thousand of our closest friends.

Many of which were dressed in some pretty strange attire.

There was lots of music,

…and puppet and magic acts.

People watching was the name of the game.

You never knew what you’d see next.

Katie got admired by sheltie lovers and children.  She mostly let everyone pet her.  Often I’d see a longing in a pair of eyes and smile encouragement.  Katie seemed to know when someone really needed a Sheltie fix.

She was interested in everything.   The weirder the better.

Mostly though she had her nose to the ground, looking for scraps of the turkey legs they sold, or potato chips, hamburgers and such.  She was quite annoyed when I’d drag her away from the best stuff.

She didn’t much like the kids rides, too much noise, too much movement.

And she wasn’t too interested in meeting other dogs, though on our way out she did meet a friendly basset hound.

It was a long way back to the car and when we finally got there she was glad to rest a bit before our short drive home.  Is that our car Mom?  Finally?

Tonight she’s dreaming of turkey legs, men in tights and women with pushup bras.  I swear.

Katie says: “When I said I needed an adventure I sort of thought we’d just go to the park Mom, not some weird place with noise and strange people and crazy smells…but I’m a brave girl and handled it all!  Didn’t I!”

Yes baby girl, you did.


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Music and trucks

Last night I attended a benefit concert in Ann Arbor.  It was a fund raiser to help defray costs incurred by the families of two young people severely injured when their car was rear ended by a semi last week.  (You can read about the crash here.)  Andrew and Alicia are engaged and plan to be married next June.  They are both gifted musicians, and the concert, put together by some of their friends and groups they have played with over the years, was a show of pure love.

They played in a tiny venue that would comfortably hold about 50 people.  I couldn’t count the people there, but the crowd was huge.  Most people stood, packed together, for the entire hour and a half concert.  The windows wouldn’t open and it was hot but no one cared.  Sweat mixed with tears on the faces of the musicians as well as the families.  Lots of us listened with tears in our eyes too.  From the Schubert piano piece, through the cello, the viola, the Argentine guitar, to the Irish band that Andrew preformed with and the folk/jazz group that played songs he had written – it was all beautiful.

I wrote down the chorus of one of Andrew’s songs  because it seemed so relevant at the moment.  The song is a plea to Jesus to answer a young man’s request for a fancy car and a girl:

“I’ve been there for you

When you wanted me to

Please return this one

Jesus don’t run.”

It’s a plea I echo…because if love and music could cure them, these two would be up and dancing in the aisle.  But it’s going to take so much more.  Both have brain injuries, both are mostly unresponsive, both are still in a coma.  We need a pair of miracles here.

The last piece of music played was written by Andrew and is called Lady Lake Michigan.  It talks about missing Lady Lake Michigan’s embrace, the feel of the sand and the water.  The last line, repeated over and over…

“Let me come home.  Let me come home.”

Please God; if you heard the music last night, please let them both come home.