Once upon a time, a little boy asked his mom if he could take piano lessons. Several years and several hundred lessons later, he performed Saturday evening with two other piano students in their senior recital. It was an evening to remember. Entertaining an audience filled with relatives and friends, Eli, Justin, and Jensen began by playing the song each of them played in his/her very first piano recital. Following these adorable but rather short songs, the students played the four pieces they played in district competitions during their four years of high school.
(May I insert a personal comment here? Of course I can; this is, after all, my blog. Another name for these district competitions is "adjudication." Yet another name for them: "mother torture!" Remember me telling you how much I hate spelling bees? Well, I hate piano adjudications even more! They are so awful; you don't even know. You sit in a silent room, while your precious son (or daughter) bravely walks up to the piano to face the judge. He announces his name and the name of the song he will play and then sits down at the piano. As a mom, you sit nervously, praying fervently that your child will play his best, that he'll get all the notes right, that he'll feel good about his performance, and that the judge will like it. Then you listen. You know the song measure for measure because you've heard it 5,000,000 times, but this time it seems to take hours to get through it. Finally finished, your child stands and awaits comments from the judge. He won't receive his actual score until later in the week. A "1" is good. A "2" is not so good. It's hard to wait.
Here's the thing. I'm just not into this. For me, playing piano or any instrument is miraculous. I don't know how to play anything, and those who do have my utmost admiration. Music is joyous in and of itself. It seems that should be enough. Why does it have to be evaluated? Why does it need to be judged? Why must people compete to see who does it better? Shouldn't the purpose of music be simply to make people happy? I dearly love to watch Eli perform, but these adjudications about do me in, so much so that at one point, Eli's piano teacher Elinore (pictured here with Eli and me) sweetly suggested that maybe I not attend them. I get too nervous. I make Eli nervous. He doesn't play his best. Downward spiral. You get it. I willingly agreed. What a relief to be excused from this torture! From that point on, I attended the performances, but not the adjudications.)
Okay, back to the senior recital. After they played their district pieces, Jensen performed a lyrical dance. Elinore wanted to spotlight the kids for all their artistic work, and Jensen is also a dancer, so she danced. And beautifully, I might add. All three of these kids also sing, so following Jensen's dance, they each sang a solo, and Eli and Jensen played their own accompaniment. This might have been my favorite part of the evening. Eli sang the song 1,000 Miles. We asked ourselves, "Where in the world did this kid get such a beautiful voice?" Certainly not from his mother or father! After the solos, Eli and Justin sang a duet, their own made-up version of "Anything You Can Do, I Can Do Better" from the musical Annie, Get Your Gun, complete with hand motions and Eli hacky sacking even! It was surely the comic relief of the evening. To conclude, the three performers donned capes, hats, and mustaches and played a finale all together. Six hands on the keyboard at the same time....it was fantastic!
Once upon a time a little boy asked his mom if he could take piano lessons. And he stuck with it all the way through high school. Congratulations, Eli. We love you and could not be any prouder.
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