Monthly Archives: June 2008

Random Liam Stuff

I’m feeling slightly apprehensive, because today is the first day the boy has gone to daycare in underpants. As of Friday morning we went off pull-ups. There were several accidents on Friday morning but only one Friday afternoon, two on Saturday, and only one on Sunday. He’s been lazy and depending on the pull-ups-just-in-case too much; now he can’t, and he’s realizing it. We’ve also dropped the ever-present sippy cup, which has helped the step to big-boy underwear. We offer him a drink regularly, and if he wants one otherwise he asks for one and he gets it in a real glass. I foresee accidents now and again for the next little while when he gets distracted, but accidents happen, and he helps clean them up. We still use a diaper at night, although it’s only a little damp in the morning; he sleeps very soundly, and I think having him feel secure during the day should be the first goal.

Late Friday afternoon we visited a preschool. We’ve been looking for one for a while, because Liam’s at the point in his development where he could really benefit from a structured class-like environment. Despite the several messages left with preschools and older daycares over the past three months, however, not one of them has called us back. HRH finally got a referral from his office mate to one on the south shore (we’re not sure why we didn’t think of looking near the college where he works, but it’s ideal) and we checked it out at an informal open house. From the moment we walked in the feeling was right. Liam evidently felt so too, because he seamlessly merged into the kids there while we toured and talked and got to know the educator. We love the layout, the program, and the philosophies demonstrated by the educators and assistants. The boy didn’t want to leave after our hour there, even though the other kids had left, which was also a good sign! The educator told us frankly that we were at the top of her list, because she wrenched her shoulder last season and would prefer to take an older child who doesn’t need to be carried; Liam fits right into the proper age range she’s looking for, and she shares the same good feeling about him and us. It’s nice when instinct and intuition support the otherwise observable facts.

So suddenly our little boy seems very grown up: real underwear, real cups, and school. “We’re going to see a school? A school for me?” he said with delight and excitement when we told him about the open house. That and the seamless merge into the environment and activities seem to support our ready-for-preschool theory.

And a final amusing anecdote to balance the grown-up-ness: Lately we’ve been listening to the Muppet albums in the car. The boy has now taken to mumbling “Ow, ow, ow, ow, owwwww” as he walks along. I first heard it the other day and said, “Liam, what’s wrong? Are you hurt?” He looked at me uncomprehendingly. Then I realised that we’d just been listening to Marvin Suggs and the amazing Muppaphone in the car, and the boy was echoing ‘Lady of Spain’ as he took each step, but without the actual note attached to the sound the Muppets make when they’re whacked.

A Sudden Abundance Of Live Music, And Thoughts Deriving From It

I’m tired, but there are things worthy of noting.

Invisible completely and totally rocked the house on Friday night, with a double set and a terrific cohesive sound. Every one of them keeps getting better and better. There was much dancing, and I don’t normally dance. There was much singing as well, and I hope I didn’t drive Jan too crazy with it. It was terrific to see people I haven’t seen in forever, too. Also, I had a very good margarita. “You really seemed to be enjoying yourself,” HRH said on the way home. “I think it’s important to obviously demonstrate to a performer that you appreciate what they’re doing,” I said. “There’s nothing worse than being on stage and seeing a sea of dead expressions in front of you, applause or not.” Sure, I could have sat there unmoving and enjoyed myself just as much, but the music was good and it moved and what the guys were doing on stage for us moved me.

Did I miss being on stage? Yes. But not enough to throw myself back into band. I miss the times when it was going well. Unfortunately, it doesn’t go well most of the time. I miss it when we’re actually making music, not talking about unrelated things or wasting time. I certainly don’t miss the amount of energy that went into it. Or rather, I prefer to have that energy to put into other things, like living my day to day life (thank you so very much, FMS). I’d like to get back into band someday. Someday is not soon, however. We’ll all be different people somewhere down the line and that will make a positive difference as well. I’d like to explore other kinds of music in a small ensemble too, at some point, with different people.

The evening before I enjoyed Marc’s vocal recital, presented by all his teacher’s students. (Live music two nights in a row! I don’t think I’m greedy, just starved for culture.) There were about half a dozen of them and they all sang three songs, ranging from Broadway to pop to chamber songs and opera arias. It was great, and I saw a handful of the people who I would see again the next night, but in an even more relaxed atmosphere. We kibbutzed outside for an hour after the show was over, and that was just as wonderful as the recital itself, in a different way. I took a moment to look around both on Thursday and Friday night, and saw people with whom I’d stayed in touch for fifteen to twenty years as well as those I’d met within the last ten or so. I really miss my friends, and it was felt really, really good to be with them.

There’s this quirk that I have: My eyes tear up suddenly when I’m really enjoying something musical. It doesn’t mean I’m particularly sad or happy or overcome by what the music is communicating. It actually has more to do with appreciating the fact that the performer is offering something, similar to what I outlined above. Marc was the first one up at the recital, a position that carries a lot of responsibility, and he sang “On the Street Where You Live” from My Fair Lady. About a third of the way through the first verse I had that tearing-up response, and I thought about what was happening. I was experiencing a surge of emotion, not as a response to the music but a response to what Marc was doing: he was reaching out to his listeners and offering them something, and I was moved by it. It seems to be an empathic response. It’s not in response to the words, or the music itself. It’s in response to the performer. It does have an emotional connection, of course, but it’s not primarily an emotional reaction.

This happens when I imagine performing myself. It doesn’t happen while I’m actually performing (or it does, but extremely rarely); rather, it happens when I visualise performing certain pieces of music. I have a very strong ability to visualise, and I invest a lot of emotion into it. It’s one of the ways I practise when I can’t be at my instrument. I’m also very good at imagining several different lines of music simultaneously, including my own line. (I think this is one of the reasons why I love working in an orchestral setting so much, and also one of the reasons why I get frustrated very easily in small ensembles without a coach; it’s hard for real performers to live up to what’s happening in my head.) In these cases, my response seems to be connected to the visualisation of the joint act of the performers in the ensemble reaching out to the audience. And this too may be one of the reasons I was dissatisfied with band: I very rarely felt that reaching out-ness happening, or a sense of the audience being moved by what we were offering. There was a lot of struggle that never felt like it resolved or settled into an actual delivery of something.

I’ve thought about this response a lot, and I still can’t quite put it into the right words. There’s something about the simultaneous identification with the performer as well as being an audience too, but I can’t pin it down yet. There’s also something about receiving and returning energy, which I know I’ve talked about before in lectures and discussion and very likely at some point in this journal as well.

I don’t have the opportunity to experience live music as an audience member very much, so this past week has been extremely precious to me. I’m very proud of everyone who performed, and I enjoyed myself thoroughly. I hope they all know that. And I hope that somehow I managed to communicate that I appreciated what they offered.