[Mom, this post is for you]
I think there comes a point (or many points) in a child's life when one must admit that their parents were right, at least about a few things, or (more likely) about many things. This is one of those moments.
I think there comes a point (or many points) in a child's life when one must admit that their parents were right, at least about a few things, or (more likely) about many things. This is one of those moments.
Growing up, especially in my teenage years, I didn't quite understand my parents' insistence on listening to classical music. As an avid pianist, I had a certain appreciation for a well-written classic. But must we listen to KBAQ every Sunday morning? Must we find a classical radio station on every roadtrip? Do we have to break out the symphonies when cleaning the house? Can't we listen to something else for a change? [accompanied by the perfected thirteen-year-old eye role]
I was sick of playing Chopin's Rondo during piano lessons. I didn't want to listen to any more Bach. The musc was old, the masters were dead: Let them rest in peace.
There is this process, however, of maturation that (quite fortunately!) begins to reshape and remodel tastes of the adolescent brain and (oh, thank God!) remove the voracious appetite for catchy, repetitive, mind-numbing pop music- a process that might lead one to eventually look in the mirror and discover (how did this happen?!) that one quite resembles her mother... [In some regards this might be every girl-child's nightmare, but not all inherited traits are undesirable]
All of this is to say, by the time we decide to have children, I told Nate the other day, I will likely carry on the family tradition of torturing my children with that dreaded classical music. (He's not quite on board with this yet, but just wait- you'll see....). **[note: in my mind this child-having will not happen yet for about ten years, just in case anyone is getting ahead of themselves.] Tucson's classical music station, with its predictable, yet strangely comforting, baritone intonements of the title, composer, and performer of each piece by a seemingly-omnipotent yet unremarkable announcer, now has a home on my radio presets and, though it must play second fiddle to NPR, still manages to beat out that local "mix" station a good chunk of the time [in my "old age" and with this newly discovered phenomenon of commuting, I have no patience for listening to the same four songs on repeat]. We went to the (excellent) concert of the UA Chamber Orchestra, not just because of a friend's membership in said orchestra, but out of an actual longing for some lovely evening entertainment.
And thus, with no further ado, I present to you Elgar's Cello Concerto in E minor, Op. 85, performed by the talented Jacqueline Du Pre. Enjoy:
(Take that, ya kids with your blasted auto-tuned racket you call music.)
