Wednesday, May 21, 2014

Now Appearning

Where in the world's the forgotten?
They're lost inside your memory
You're dragging on, your heart's been broken
As we all go down in history
- "The Forgotten" by Green Day

These are the opening lyrics tot he piece that my son played at his piano recital this past weekend. It was a poignant time, since his mother and I were lost in our own reminiscences of the times we have sat in the crowd with all those other parents, listening to the songs and trying not to flinch at the occasional missed note or cracked chord. We remembered listening to "Under The Sea" and "Top Cat" before he progressed to a point where he could pick and choose his own music. Artists like Green Day and LInkin Park. His ability to take the music of his youth and channel it through his fingers into the piano is a constant source of amazement for me. I tried to play "Pinball Wizard" just like Elton John and "American Pie" like Don McLean, but always came up short. At recitals, I usually ended up playing a sonatina by Mozart or something with which no one would be tempted to sing along. 
This weekend I marveled once again at the confidence my son showed, walking up on stage, sitting down, and playing. I made note of how he has slowly slid from the beginning of the program, where the plink and plunkers start to the latter half of the list where the more practiced and veteran performers show up. I have not sat in the stands and watched my son pitch a no-hitter, nor have I watched him earn an Eagle Scout badge. He's working out his own path. This one has music and art and film. It's not a surprise, considering who his parents are, but at the same time I wonder where he gets the calm center. He's not a prodigy. That ship has sailed and it would take far too much practice and commitment to keep that strain up. Instead, he plays from the heart the songs he knows. I hope that this won't be forgotten. 

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