He strode onto the stage with just a hint of swagger, carrying the air of a guy who’s comfortable in his own skin, sure of himself. Facing his audience with confidence, he addressed the keys in front of him and said, “I’m Josh...Josh Miller. I’m going to play a little jazz number I call ‘Monkey Business.’ I hope you enjoy it.”
Quickly he was lost in his performance, awash in the music that stemmed from his soul, unaware that we were all still there with him. His body moved with the rhythm as he pounded out something that could only be described as unrecognizable - truly awful. And when he finished, we all applauded and cheered. He was grinning as he took his bows.
And so it goes at the elementary school’s “Evening of the Arts,” as 7-year-old Josh and his fellow students took the stage, one by one, showcasing their budding talent. They sang, they danced, they played pianos and violins, guitars and harps. They recited poetry. Some forgot their bit, and bravely soldiered on. One forgot his and cried. They ran the gamut from “Old MacDonald” plunked out with one finger to an 8-year -old’s performance of Chopin’s Minute Waltz that left her audience breathless.
Yesterday was a day for me to focus on and envy little children. The younger they are, the more free they are, with every facet of their being. A little girl at the Pasta Factory couldn’t have been more than about 2 or 3. She was leaving the restaurant with mother, brother, and 2 older sisters in tow. And at that very moment, she decided to see what it felt like to “walk” out while kicking her legs from side to side, throwing her whole body into the experience. She reminded me of the Scarecrow in the Wizard of Oz, limbs barely held together by the loosest of joints. If she was aware of anyone’s scrutiny, she didn’t show it. She was simply immersed in the pleasure of the moment, laughing, dancing her little dance.
I watched her and was keenly aware that what we accept as cute in a toddler is wholly unacceptable in an adult, yet I wasn’t quite sure why. It would have been so much fun to join her. Why is it that we only allow ourselves and others that kind of body freedom when we are alone in the privacy of our homes, or on a dance floor with just a little too much alcohol in our bloodstream?
And later that night, the pint-sized performers, each as proud as if he/she had just played Carnegie Hall, were joyously unconcerned with what other people might think. The whole room could have ignored them, as long as mom and dad, and maybe their teacher cheered. Mess up? No big deal, just start again, or skip that part....we still love you and think you’re the best.
What an awesome feeling. What an incredible gift. Would that we could all reach adulthood with that freedom intact.
I'm trying to get back in the habit of writing every day. Lately, I've been working on character sketches. Some of those will find their way here, in the form of individual comments to this post.
Comments
Quickly he was lost in his performance, awash in the music that stemmed from his soul, unaware that we were all still there with him. His body moved with the rhythm as he pounded out something that could only be described as unrecognizable - truly awful. And when he finished, we all applauded and cheered. He was grinning as he took his bows.
And so it goes at the elementary school’s “Evening of the Arts,” as 7-year-old Josh and his fellow students took the stage, one by one, showcasing their budding talent. They sang, they danced, they played pianos and violins, guitars and harps. They recited poetry. Some forgot their bit, and bravely soldiered on. One forgot his and cried. They ran the gamut from “Old MacDonald” plunked out with one finger to an 8-year -old’s performance of Chopin’s Minute Waltz that left her audience breathless.
Yesterday was a day for me to focus on and envy little children. The younger they are, the more free they are, with every facet of their being. A little girl at the Pasta Factory couldn’t have been more than about 2 or 3. She was leaving the restaurant with mother, brother, and 2 older sisters in tow. And at that very moment, she decided to see what it felt like to “walk” out while kicking her legs from side to side, throwing her whole body into the experience. She reminded me of the Scarecrow in the Wizard of Oz, limbs barely held together by the loosest of joints. If she was aware of anyone’s scrutiny, she didn’t show it. She was simply immersed in the pleasure of the moment, laughing, dancing her little dance.
I watched her and was keenly aware that what we accept as cute in a toddler is wholly unacceptable in an adult, yet I wasn’t quite sure why. It would have been so much fun to join her. Why is it that we only allow ourselves and others that kind of body freedom when we are alone in the privacy of our homes, or on a dance floor with just a little too much alcohol in our bloodstream?
And later that night, the pint-sized performers, each as proud as if he/she had just played Carnegie Hall, were joyously unconcerned with what other people might think. The whole room could have ignored them, as long as mom and dad, and maybe their teacher cheered. Mess up? No big deal, just start again, or skip that part....we still love you and think you’re the best.
What an awesome feeling. What an incredible gift. Would that we could all reach adulthood with that freedom intact.