Conversations with Smiths- Part 21

I have a difficult time paying attention in church. Okay, I have a difficult time paying attention anywhere. Benjamin and I sitting next to one another is a particularly bad combination. Sometimes Todd separates the two of us if a speaker is particularly challenging to listen to.

It's a problem.

Adding to the problem is that our current congregation has a tradition of being pretty lousy at special programming for major holidays. Perhaps it feels worse for Todd and me because we grew up in churches with fabulous holiday programming. We've been here eleven years, you'd think we'd stop getting our hopes up by now. But, no.

This past Sunday was particularly painful because one of the few Christmas carols we were going to sing as a congregation was skipped when the undoubtedly nervous speaker rushed to the podium and began speaking before the organist made it to the organ. So the Bishopric let her talk and decided to skip the hymn altogether.

I was not pleased. And then the speaker as she told a scripture story described some of the people as "not righteous and wicked".

And Benjamin and I went into "we have the attention span of gnats and are obnoxious to boot" mode and this happened.


Benjamin: #NotRighteous #Wicked 

Me: #SameThing #Redundant

Benjamin: #SacramentMeetingTalk

Me: #NotReallyPayingAttention #ShouldBeSingingTheFirstNoel #Bitter

Todd [leaning over in between Benjamin and me]: #SHHHH!

Benjamin: #Roasted #DadBurn

"Caroling, Caroling"

Another of our favorite Christmas traditions is singing as many Christmas songs as absolutely possible.  We have some wonderful friends who have an annual night "Cookies and Carols" at their house, and frankly, it doesn't feel like Christmas without it.  We adore these people.  And not just because they are the alto and bass to my soprano and Todd's tenor.  It's a delight to sing with them alone, but even more delightful is to watch our kids enjoy one another so much.  

 For me, music is so wrapped up in the Christmas season that it feels wrong without it.  I've been shopping in two stores this last week where they weren't playing any Christmas music, and I missed it.  I love some good Old English hymns, but am just as happy to sing about Rudolph and Frosty.

 I'm glad that our children are learning to love music of the season as well.  Look at this group of cute little girls all happy to sing songs, too!

I feel very content after a delightful evening of good music and good friends.  (And the homemade chocolates don't hurt, either.)

Nathaniel's Been Holding Out on Us!

Nathaniel doesn't love performing. He enjoys everything else about theater, except the actual performing. And yet, this year especially, he keeps throwing himself at it as if he's determined to find the right formula to conquer this fear. When I saw him perform last week in the 5th grade production of Cinderella, I was SO proud of him. He didn't seem nearly as nervous for this production as I've seen him with others in years past.

Also, he SANG! Nathaniel has always had a deep voice, even as a baby. So, while other kids can happily sing along to chirpy "kids' music" that was never easy for him. He often just gives up and sings at sort of a low monotone leading the rest of the family to feel sort of bad for him being the one Smith kid who doesn't really sing.

But, here on video, I have proof that he CAN do it! He can match pitches, AND sing high, AND harmonize! (This was the evening production, and he was a little more nervous for this one, so he was running out of air at the beginning, but that didn't happen in the day time production.)

On top of all this, he's performing in a different production this week. No singing in this play, but he's really looking forward to only worrying about lines for one show now. (He's been working on both shows for the last couple of months.)

Super proud this kid!

Revisiting

11 years ago I performed my senior recital. For a music major the senior recital is a HUGE deal and basically shows off if you were really cut out for this type of thing all along. (There are plenty of other opportunities for that along the way, but for some reason there is still that ridiculous amount of pressure.) I was responsible for 20 or 30 minutes worth of music and performance of at least three languages.

My dress was awesome. My recital mate was fabulous. And I was incredibly relieved when the night was over. I made a few mistakes, but nothing that anyone besides my voice teacher caught. Still, while I was on a huge high from the relief of being done with the thing that had been looming over my head for four years of college, and people said amazingly nice things, I couldn't shake the feeling that it wasn't all that great. That somehow, I wasn't up to par and I should have done better. I performed my recital with an ear and sinus infection, but I couldn't make excuses for why my voice didn't have it's full everything that night. I just had to perform and make it as good as it could possibly be under the circumstances.

My teacher met me at the stage door before all my family and friends could get to me and counseled me to wait at least a month before I listened to the recording of the evening. Even two months later, it made me wince. I heard every single thing that didn't go quite right. My diction wasn't good on that French word. My vibrato was a bit wobbly there. My sound wasn't light or free enough there. I listened to it once more about five years ago with a similar reaction.

Well, I listened to my recital just the other day for only the third time since that evening. I don't know if it's all the years of teaching voice lessons, or just the fact that I'm more comfortable in my own skin (and vocal chords) now, but I actually liked what I heard. It amazed me. I've spent all these years thinking that night was "eh", when really it was pretty darn good for a 21 year old.

It was like a revelation. I could still hear the mistakes, but I could also this time hear all the good things. The night of my recital I felt like I had pulled an elaborate hoax on everyone in the audience. "They don't know what I know, that's why they compliment me."

But really, it was a decent performance. The compliments weren't just out of niceness or ignorance. They were legit. (Well, I'm sure there were one or two divas who didn't mean them, but there are always a few of those.)

It's sort of weird to have to shift my thinking all these years later. Could it be that I should maybe go a little easier on myself when I am being super critical? I don't know. Honestly, I'm not very hard on myself about most things. But, wow, do I feel relieved letting something that happened all those years ago go.

I feel lighter somehow.

Boys Who Sing

My Dad was in the Stake Presidency when I was a little girl. Basically, that meant that he had lots of church meetings and had to travel around to all the congregations within the stake. Sometimes my Mom and I would go with him.

One Sunday in particular, we went to the ward (congregation) that Todd attended.  After the main meeting (Sacrament Meeting), the children go to Primary.  There are lessons and singing and all sorts of good things.  Anyway, that day in primary the music leader was introducing a new song called "Love is Spoken Here".    I loved learning new songs.  It was like having a puzzle dangled in front of me.  I HAD to solve it.  So, I paid very close attention to everything that was taught.  (This paid off, because they didn't start teaching it in my ward until the next month.  And I totally knew it already.)  The girls sing the first verse of the song and the boys sing the second verse, then join together to sing the third verse.

  There are some wards where the little boys are very enthusiastic singers.  Then there is the majority.  So, my seven year old self was very interested in the melodious singing coming from the opposite side of the room.

I craned my neck around to see eight year old Todd Smith.  I remember thinking, "Hm.  He's a really good singer.  That's Todd.  I remember him.  He cries when he gets teased."

I should mention that he didn't look at me once.  Nor does he remember this event at all.  Nor did he remember that I was even at Treasure Island all those years before.

He does, however, remember our anniversary.  And my birthday....um, usually.

The next time I saw Todd Smith, I was 14 and he was 15.  But that will be tomorrow's story.

Rehearsal Love

     

WARNING!!  This is not visually appealing at all.  My camera was sitting on top of the piano and facing the wall for four minutes. 

This is a recording of Todd and me rehearsing for a duet we have to sing Saturday evening.  It is not great.  We screw up notes and words and me playing the piano while singing typically leads to sad noises.  (Happily we will have an accompanist who actually can play the piano.)  

The reason I am posting this is because listening to it makes me happy.  Hearing Todd's lovely singing voice makes me fall in love with him a little bit all over again.  The first time he and I sang together, I was four and he was five.  All these years later I still haven't tired of singing with him.  Even more than that, I love that while rehearsing we are silly.  We laugh and joke and sing.

When I listened to this again today, I thought, "If Todd were suddenly gone one day, this is what I would remember.  How I felt doing this.  How I always feel doing this."

While this is no treat for your eyes, to my ears at least it sounds like love.

My weirdo

I was singing while playing the piano this morning when Nathaniel came up to stand by me.  I felt all warm and fuzzy that one of my most favorite people was standing with me while I did one of my most favorite things.  I turned at one point to gaze lovingly upon him, and discovered that he was sucking on my hair.   He had picked up a few ends of my long hair and stuck them in his mouth without me realizing what he was doing.  I grabbed my hair back and said something profound like, "Ew, gross!".

  I should have known better, though, because for little boys that is like the ulitmate compliment.  For the next several minutes I had to keep dodging my head around to keep my hair from him while still playing and singing.  I could have simply stood up, or swept my hair up in a knot on my head...but it was  more fun this way.

And besides, who am I to complain?  I bite and lick people with alarming regularity.  

But only if I really like them.

Hm.

"Oh, Nathaniel! Can you come here for a minute?"

O Mio Pepino Caro!!

I have tried to grow cucumbers in my garden EVERY year that we have been here. They have never made it past the seedling stage.

UNTIL THIS YEAR!!!!

There are vines everywhere and today when I finally peeked underneath the viney canopy, I saw several cucumbers growing there!! They're already about 6 inches long!

I would like you to try and picture the moment:

Me: rainbow tie die shirt, jeans, bare feet, hair down and unbrushed.

My children and their friends: bathing suits, running through the sprinkler

My next door neighbor: an engineer who works from home...usually his back yard

Now you need to remember this song:



(Note: O Mio Babbino Caro, actually means "my dear Daddy". What Daddy is going to let his daughter out of the house in THAT dress?!)

Okay, do you have it all pictured?

I saw the little cucumbers and immediately burst into singing in a VERY loud and VERY operatic voice, "O Mio Pepino Caro". Which literally means, yes, "My Dear Cucumber".

I wonder what it says about me that neither my boys nor my neighbor even looked at me during this outburst...