Nods in Appreciation

In my weak and abbreviated post yesterday, what we call around here a ‘streak-keeper’, a posting designed, mostly out of necessity, to keep the current consecutive days of posting alive (and we are getting close to completion), I mentioned our trip to the symphony. Please recall that since we live on an island that any excursion into the expansive cultural metropolis of Seattle, includes a ferry ride to and from. Most of us who have been here a while, me since 1974, take this for granted. You build in the time for preparation, drive, park and walk aboard. If you have a decent job, as most of the new millennials in town seem to, driving aboard isn’t a concern, but I, rebelliously, choose to walk or ride my bike to avoid what works out to be a $30 RT fare via auto, or light truck. 

I am going to pick one of the many interesting things we noticed during our trek to watch and listen to Beethoven’s sublime Symphony #5. This is a difficult task owing to the fact that it seemed, at least to me, that interesting things were happening at a rapid rate. I mean, it was like interesting things were falling from the sky and we had to dodge them similar to dodging other matter when walking under a flock of pigeons or the waterfront gulls. 

WOW look at that! Listen to this. Consider the paradox. Describe the color. What angular tonality. Vibrations everywhere. Man this is good. 

The one isolated moment I am choosing to recap happened during the final movement of the headliner. Junior is sitting to my right and next to him a young boy, maybe five, has fallen asleep in his seat using the unpadded armrest as a pillow. Thankfully he wasn’t snoring. The gentleman sitting to my immediate left decided to not return after the intermission leaving an empty set between me and a young father whose toddler was sitting on his lap. Peripherally I had been watching the child as she was offered a rag doll by Dad to keep her occupied and still. But she kept dropping, I suspect even tossing, if down to the hard word floor. It was’t distracting as much as slightly annoying. I focused on the music and life, in its myriad forms, was good. 

Until the final movement, when, as you know, Beethoven tosses some serious fat into the symphonic shan. Dad had decided at this point to let the kid do her thing sans play-toy. 

As the animated conductor led the troupe through the final roaring grand crescendo, I turned my head towards the tiny girl and watched with amazement as she mimicked the maestro with flowing arms and exaggerated musical directions, her eyes closed tight in concentration and appreciation. 

I am starring at her with as large a smile as I can muster when she opens her eyes and sees me grinning like Lewis’  Cheshire Cat. It is a beautiful moment alive with music, magic, movement, peace and joy. 

We are sharing this unabashed mirth as the glorious piece ends and we all spring to our feet for the ovation. The Maestro bows, the concert master bows, the entire symphony bows in a most respectful bow of honest gratitude. And. 

I nod at her and she at me.