Here's the problem: I get off work at 4:30, and Calvin's 7th grade football practice is not over until 5:45. It' s a fifteen minute drive from work to school (which is on the way home) at best, and even if I kill time doing some grocery shopping along the way, I still have about a 45 minute wait. I don't want to drive home and back, even though I could, because that would use up a gallon of gas. Ah the price I pay for living in rural paradise. :) But I'll gladly pay it since Calvin seems to really like football, and band, and school in general so far this year. Seventh grade was hell for me, so I am happy he's having a better go of it.
I was considering running during the wait, since I could put in 3 miles or so in that time. But it's been an unseasonably hot September, and I just haven't been in the mood for it. I know, I'm a slacker. And there's reading; I have had some good books from the library on the topic of herbal medicine, which is another recent interest I need to blog about. That, and I can't believe I read and understood Ralph Waldo Emerson's essay, "Self Reliance", all during lunch and break times yesterday. But no, it's hard to read Emerson in a school parking lot when there are parents all around looking either like the definitive argument for the obesity epidemic, or parading around in designer clothes and big hair and Hummers. Ugh.
So I've been doing something, twice now, that makes me feel like I'm being utterly subversive and nonconformist. I drive my car to a river bridge and boat access about a half mile east of the school. Usually there's no one there that time on a week day. I take my flute, along with O'Neill's book of Irish tunes, and a beer, and sit under the bridge and play music! The acoustics are great, although interrupted at about one minute intervals by traffic passing over the bridge. And today right before I set up camp, two canoeists went by, paddling upstream. I made sure they were out of earshot before I began.
It has been wonderful for my soul. Today I just started improvising in D minor and G minor, and the sounds that echoed off the concrete were amazing. It still scares me, being there sending my music out to the world, and perhaps unwitting canoeists. But I'm feeling my inner crazy f'er, and that feels pretty damn good. :)
9 comments:
How fun Deb! Play on!
I love it when folks find unique, creative and productive ways to use their time, especially when they challenge assumptions about what is 'normal.'
I think its awesome and I hope you treat the canoeists to a little free music.
At one point in my life, I had this older woman who lived about a block or two away from me who would play the accordian in the evenings every once in a while, I'm sure she played it when she knew her immediate neighbors weren't home. It used to bring me such pleasure to hear that music floating on the wind in the summers. I even took her some homemade bread as a thank you gift once or twice...
It seems like, in my lifetime, we have done so much to control and limit things in the name of safety or something. So now we have a world that doesn't have the sounds of childrens' laughter in the air, except in approved areas, or the sound of a flute mysteriously floating down the river. We are the generation now, we look as silly as our parents did to us, but without their silliness, what would we have lost?
I think that is an excellent way to chill out during the cartyourkidseverywhere years.
I'm glad his new year is going well. I have no small amount of experience with the middle school child and it's a challenging time for both the kid and the parent.
Just be there for them, as you always seem to be ...
i bet the canoeists would have really enjoyed it.
Good for you Deb -- a chance to do something to make yourself happy!
let that inner flutist come out and play! I think it's wonderful :)
The Crazy Woman appreciates all of your insights and encouragement. :) Due to illness, a game, and seeing a car parked in my spot the other day, there has been no music under the bridge yet this week, but there is still Friday.
Post a Comment