Marshmallow Girl Strikes Again!
2004-05-19 - 10:18 a.m.
Last night I went to the Spring Pop concert put on by the middle and high school choirs. Kelly is in the middle school choir so it was a chance to see her perform, sort of. The 6th graders aren’t as sure of themselves or their voices yet so they are harder to hear. Still, I got to see her up on the stage again doing what she loves to do, perform. I love to watch my kids when they get up on the stage, it was always my big love. I do not push them to do this because I know just because it was my love it wouldn’t necessarily be theirs. Turns out it is though.
When the High School choir came up and sang I began to cry. I think it started with the 3 girls doing Lady Marmalade. It’s funny how over emotional I get at these things. Why would I cry you wonder? I don’t know for sure but it feels like I’m crying for the past, present and future. I see those girls singing away (and quite well I might add) and I feel bad that I never “did” anything in high school. I wore jeans and rock t-shirts and smoked cigarettes and hung out with the “stoners” who also never did any extra-curricular activities at school. We spent more time ditching school then getting into it. Secretly, I wanted to be a performer. I wanted to sing (I have a truly crappy she-man singing voice) wanted to play instruments, wanted to, well fit in with the other kids. But rule of Stoner thumb, the other kids were dorks (try and avoid them) and try to keep the “I don’t give a damn about all this High School crap” attitude at all times.
I regret that I never gave it a shot. I regret that I let my fears and insecurities get in the way. I regret that I never had any fun and didn’t bother to try. I guess that’s why I tear up for that.
There was this one High School boy who was all of 15 and he was a little chunky and had a really bad lazy eye and long shaggy hair. He got up and did a solo with an electric guitar. He did “November Rain” by Guns N Roses (can you believe that??) and the teachers accompanied on the piano and drums. I have to say, that kid kicked ass! And when he was up there playing he jammed on the guitar and he could sing as well. The way the music and the song took over him, he seemed like a pro musician and not a 15-year-old boy. He could have been in a rock band. I didn’t notice any of the previous things about him, only the way he played and sang. I cried because I could see my son Dylan, standing up there 5 years from now. I could see it so clearly and this boy looked something like what Dylan will. I imagined my son standing there instead of this boy and I wept at the thought.
I sang along with Bohemian Rhapsody, but not too loud as to muck up the choirs’ job. I watched a petite little blonde belt out the Shoop Shoop song and imagined Emily up there someday (provided she loses her little Cthindy Brady Lisp). I turned to Emily and saw her clapping and swaying and thought someday. My kids have so much more potential and guts that I never had. I cry for all the possibilities I see in them. Ah but it’s a joyful cry.
Oh and in case anyone is wondering, I got the job in the mailroom. I will be the Godfather. Kiss my ring and I give you mail. Kidding. Also, we are off to Vilsek, Germany tomorrow. I need the little 4-day getaway. I am so jazzed even if it is only to an army base. We get to eat Popeyes chicken and see a movie and go bowling and shop for our favorite American stuff for a lot less. Whee for me. So I’ll be back Monday. Happy weekend.
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