How Do I Manage To Get Roped Into These Things?
HOW DO I MANAGE TO GET ROPED INTO THESE THINGS?
That was the phrase that ran through my head as I sat in the old, faintly lit gymnasium at my niece Laura’s school. It all started with that innocent wide-eyed look all kids give you before they drop the bomb. My niece fixed her large blue eyes on me and said, “Aunt Hammy, are you going to my Spring Concert?” She managed to get that sentence out before cramming in a sizable mouthful of macaroni and cheese, and then proceeded to watch me with those abnormally large kid eyes as she chewed.
I managed to sputter something along the lines of, “Your Spring Concert? I didn’t know such a thing existed.” That was met by silence. Ok, ok I thought, “When is it?” I said. Secretly hoping it was weeks or better yet months away. “Tonight.” she said between bites. I was had, and by a ten year old no less, “Tonight!! Well, well.” Pause. I had to ask, I knew I had to ask, I didn’t want to ask, but I had to ask, so I asked. “What time??” “Seven.” she said. My head swiveled around a few times trying to find a clock on display somewhere sensible, but I was eating dinner at my mother’s house, where nothing is sensible. “It’s a quarter to six.” My mother blurted. Since the clocks were no where to be seen, she was free to conjure up a time that suited her, and I was helpless to refute. “Well… Diana, Lilia, would you like to see Laura’s concert?” “Oh yeah! Can we go, Mom?” of course my oldest daughter, Diana-the-traitor, was the first to answer. “Lilia? Would you like to see Laura’s concert?” “No.” she said between concentrated bites of macaroni and cheese. I always liked that kid, I thought. “They’re having an ice cream social after the concert.” my Judas-of-a-mother piped in. “Yes.” recanted my always-ready-to-eat-junk-food daughter still concentrating intently on shoveling in macaroni and cheese. Boy did my mother know her grandkids. “Okay then!” I smiled a tight little post-facelift kind of smile. “Well Laura, I guess we’re going.”
On our way to sitting in our very uncomfortable standard issue fold-out chairs I spot my brother’s ex-wife sitting with her shiny new husband and her mother and father. For some reason, I thought of
So here I sit, feeling like I was beamed down from some alien ship that wrenched me out of my nice quiet plans and plunked me into the Our Lady of Perpetual Motion's very ancient gymnasium cum auditorium to hear the annual “Spring Concert” as performed by the “Our Lady of Perpetual Motion Chorus” and the “Our Lady of Perpetual Motion Band”. Originality is not the strongpoint of Catholics.
How do I get myself roped into these things!?! I scan the audience and notice a couple I nickname Ms. Highlights and Mister capped-teeth. He is either the current boyfriend or the new "number two". I can tell because they’re so touchy-feely. That and the fact that he keeps smiling at the bratty little darling that is so obviously hers. The smile isn’t the teeth-sucking eye-tick generating constipated grimace that says “As soon as we get home you are so-oo Dead Meat, Mister!!” but the ever so phony “Oh isn’t the little tyke just so full of energy and, what a personality!” It’s the kind of smile worn by politicians on the stump and CEO’s on the witness stand.
I scanned down the program. Wow, there’s a lot of stuff here. Ok, Three Choral readings, five chorus selections, nine band songs. I quickly assign times. Let’s see, four minutes for each reading, no make it five minutes…each song three, maybe four minutes….each band song four minutes at least…speeches, clapping, shuffling of small children and other assorted bullshit fifteen minutes…ok that’s…fifteen plus twenty aaaaand…four times nine equals thirty-six, plus the fifteen….Oh my God, that’s an hour and a half! I must have had a sick look on my face because just then my newest sister-in-law leaned over and said, “I haven’t talked to you in a while. Are you Ok?” “Yeah, I’m fine.” I said. She didn’t look too convinced, maybe it was the twitch, or the escaping drool…just then one of the teachers started climbing up the stage stairs huffing and puffing, with a microphone in hand. “Boy’s and Girl’s” she wheezed, “We don’t mind if you want to sit in the bleachers but pleeeeze stay in one spot!” At that, all parental and grandparental heads turned around to quickly eye-spot their progeny. Of the three children running loose in the bleachers…two of them were mine. I nearly sprained an eyeball as I gave my fiercest “you two are as dead as proverbial doornails” look to them while they scrambled to find a bench to sit on figuring, quite rightly, that I would not go after them in front of so many potentially interviewable witnesses.
The clock ticked sloooowly toward seven, and after the obligatory welcoming speeches and the Pledge of Allegiance led by….the Boy Scout troop, the patched and worn theater curtains parted and….oh, no! The choral readings were little mini plays! The first one took nine minutes. Ok, don’t panic, recalculate...maybe some of the songs will be three minutes…bring the baby kissing bullshit down to ten minutes…oh God, it’s no use. An eternity, that’s what this is an eternity!
The plays were very badly done, the equivalent of twelve kids with marbles in their mouths talking way too fast. But finally it’s over! Ok, twenty minutes….there is still a chance if the chorus sings fast. Aaaaaand…..the first song is Old Dan Tucker! Oh pleeeeze! Someone just shoot me now, now, now…please. Dan Tucker is sung not once, not twice, but threeeee times! But it does get better (not!) the next tune is a rousingly bad version of…
Suddenly, the Chorus is back from their break and the two final songs are to be a grisly joint slaughter. After a little dose of patriotism, courtesy of the Boy Scouts, we all join together in a reeeeally slow screechy version of America the Beautiful but since no one but the Chorus kids know the actual words the audience sings the second verse twice. Oh well, who needed that third verse anyway! We end with Take Me out to the Ball Game, and since it’s the blessedly last song of the evening I don’t even mind that it’s sung twice. The final applause was wholehearted and verrrry genuine, especially mine.
2 Comments:
At 7:48 PM, Nukie said…
That's really funny. You have no idea how many of these I've seen
At 10:01 AM, kimmyk said…
OMG...I know your pain!
Abbie wanted to join 8th grade choir for next year-I quickly had to put my foot down with that one. Then she came up with Drama Club. As if. I'm tellin' ya....those programs suck the life right out of ya don't they? Needless to say, my daughter will be in the choir and drama club next year...so not only will I be going to fall concerts, holiday concerts, spring receitals, I'll be forced to endure a very long Christmas program. I can hardly wait.
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