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The Boy, Bonding, & Band.
May. 22nd, 2008 08:49 amLast night, Ethan and I both got our hair cut (I'm on a six-week schedule, he's on an eight - they just happened to coincide) and then grabbed dinner at Pizza Brutta, a couple numbers down the street from our "hairdresser." Pizza Brutta is really good. Organic ingredients, thin crust, cooked in a wood-fire oven. Afterwards, we had a little time to waste, so we went a few more doors down to a coffee place and talked over coffee (iced latte for me, decaf-mocha frappé for the boy) and scones. Eventually, it was time to go and our taxi arrived, taking us to Ethan's 7th-grade band concert.
I moved too much to ever learn an instrument in school and my parents wouldn't have gone anyway. They went to one parent-teacher conference in my life. It seems really important to Ethan that I go to these things, and to be honest, I wouldn't miss it for anything. Ethan's playing baritone sax (he played alto last year) and he's getting pretty good. He said he wants to keep it up for next year. For this concert, the lineup was the Jazz Club (excellent all around), then the orchestra (who did an awesome medley of Queen songs), then the chorus (who were okay, except for a few really amazing voices who did solos), then the chorus & orchestra together (an astounding rendition of The Black Eyed Peas' Where is the Love?), and then finally, the band, which finished off the night with a fun Bohemian Rhapsody.
Sitting on bleachers for an hour and a half - eh, not so fun and horrible for my back. It was also standing-room only, so we parents were crammed together like sardines and it was very warm in there. It also reminds me that I am a very young parent. There were only a handful of parents there who were close to my age. Most were into their 40's or 50's or older. I got many I-wonder-who-that-is-and-why-he's-here looks. I kept having to wave to Ethan's friends. More so, Ethan would be talking to a friend and then they'd both look up at the bleachers, Ethan would wave and I'd wave back. At least he's not embarrassed of me yet. When his friend Augustin passed me int he hall, he said, "Hello, Mister Parker." That was pretty funny and kind of weird.
You always hear people, when they get called, "Mr. Somebody" say, "Hey, Mr. Somebody is my dad." I will never say that. I'll be a mister, I don't mind. My dad was never a mister to anyone. Why scoff at respect?
Anyway, we came home, ate some ice cream and watched part of Raiders of the Lost Ark until we started falling asleep. It was good times.
I moved too much to ever learn an instrument in school and my parents wouldn't have gone anyway. They went to one parent-teacher conference in my life. It seems really important to Ethan that I go to these things, and to be honest, I wouldn't miss it for anything. Ethan's playing baritone sax (he played alto last year) and he's getting pretty good. He said he wants to keep it up for next year. For this concert, the lineup was the Jazz Club (excellent all around), then the orchestra (who did an awesome medley of Queen songs), then the chorus (who were okay, except for a few really amazing voices who did solos), then the chorus & orchestra together (an astounding rendition of The Black Eyed Peas' Where is the Love?), and then finally, the band, which finished off the night with a fun Bohemian Rhapsody.
Sitting on bleachers for an hour and a half - eh, not so fun and horrible for my back. It was also standing-room only, so we parents were crammed together like sardines and it was very warm in there. It also reminds me that I am a very young parent. There were only a handful of parents there who were close to my age. Most were into their 40's or 50's or older. I got many I-wonder-who-that-is-and-why-he's-here looks. I kept having to wave to Ethan's friends. More so, Ethan would be talking to a friend and then they'd both look up at the bleachers, Ethan would wave and I'd wave back. At least he's not embarrassed of me yet. When his friend Augustin passed me int he hall, he said, "Hello, Mister Parker." That was pretty funny and kind of weird.
You always hear people, when they get called, "Mr. Somebody" say, "Hey, Mr. Somebody is my dad." I will never say that. I'll be a mister, I don't mind. My dad was never a mister to anyone. Why scoff at respect?
Anyway, we came home, ate some ice cream and watched part of Raiders of the Lost Ark until we started falling asleep. It was good times.
