And The Beat Goes On

Remember the song by Sonny & Cher ~ The Beat Goes On? I've always enjoyed that song—have often sung the chorus to children when stress tried to invade our lives and take on an ominous look. It seemed to help get the overload of homework, tests, sports, music practice, etc all into perspective. The Beat does go on and on and on—no matter what else is taking place in the world, even after the death of a loved.

Somehow I think that’s both comforting and disconcerting, but overall it’s more reassuring than anything else.

Last night our youngest son had his first band concert. He’s in sixth grade and the whole experience was cool in a thousand ways I can’t explain, but I can cover a few of the ways.

Our two older sons had both played in both marching and symphonic bands in high school. I remember going to the football games just to see and hear them play with the marching band—I never knew what took place on the field during the games, although I tried to at least be aware of the final score.

Each Friday night during football season the cool evening air carried the aroma of the season: first summer, then fall, and finally winter. I remember the laughter and sense of camaraderie among the band members, the National Anthem being played, the moment of silence that always caught in my throat. I remember pieces to a life I couldn’t slow down.

They graduated and went on to college— the oldest has graduated college, the younger wishes he were:-).

Last night I sat in the crowded cafeteria at our youngest child’s school, remembering when I took band in sixth grade. Band for us meant everyone played the same instrument—a recorder.

At the end of the school year, on the night of our performance, my Mennonite friend and I knew her parents’ tolerance for the public school education had ended. They’d set up their own school and she wouldn’t be going on with me into middle school that next year. But both her parents and mine had promised we could still see each other, still spend the night with each other.

But the reality of what was soon to take place didn’t dampen our fun that night. We’d agreed to meet at the school long before time for the performance to begin. When we did, we moved about the building unchecked by teachers, unhurried by classroom bells, and talking excitedly about our upcoming performance. The disappointment of our upcoming separation was dulled under the hope of promised spend the nights. And roaming the halls, chatting freely with my best friend was my first taste of grown-up freedom.

The band director last night had those kids performing so smoothly it was hard to believe that most of the students had never played an instrument before he began teaching them three months ago.

Today I’m reminded that I can’t slow life down, can’t control it, can’t predict it, but I can push aside any dread or fear of what will happen in life and enjoy the taste of what is.