A Cadence is Coming

Golda and Cindy Henderson, renowned flute teacher,
at the family flute recital last night.  Golda and I played Still, Still, Still.

Last week I was at a meeting with Golda and her school counselor, Mr. Kawa.  Mr. Kawa is good.  With one glance at grades and test scores, he knows exactly what you're lacking, what you must do and which scholarships and programs you should keep in mind as you study.  He knows what ACT score you need to go to the school you're aiming for and what classes you should take to get there.  If you say something like, "I might want to take interior design," he squints, then counters with something like, "OR, if you think you want to to to the U for the dance program, you look at each class you take now as contributing toward your college degree.  You could take a computer literacy class now that will help you test out of some of that in college.  If you look at these numbers, that could save you 700 dollars a credit hour, so you're looking at saving over a thousand dollars."

If you say, "I don't want to take any more science," Mr. Kawa leans back in his chair to get a good look at you.  He smirks.  He says, "You're on track for the Regent scholarship.  That's free money.  But you need one more year of science to get it."  Then he'll pull out a pen and diagram dollar amounts on the back of your schedule, illustrating that that science class could be worth big money down the road.  And since he knows you're interested in dance, he'll end with, "And if you get a dance department scholarship after your freshman year, you'll still get that regent money."

I love how Mr. Kawa plants all the right seeds, and in such an understated way.  If you're not paying attention, you could miss some of his words of wisdom.  As Golda and I sat there, I was suddenly hearing, "With your grades, and if you get a good ACT score, you'll definitely want to go for early admission, which is October 1 for the deadline."  He started ruffling through papers to find all the right information, but I was having a hard time staying with him.  In fact, my head was swimming.  My purse, on the floor next to me, seemed to glow red and warm, in a very surreal way.  Let me explain.

I have an archaic way of calendaring, which I've used since I was in 8th grade.  It's a weekly engagement calendar that I usually get from the Audubon Society.  Every August, I send an actual check for $16.99 in an envelope to an address in lower Manhattan.  A week later, I get the next year's calendar.  All the kids scramble to see what the picture is on the week of their birthday.

So inside my purse in Mr. Kawa's office was my 2014 calendar, alongside this year's.  With a rush of red-hot blood to the head, I realized that the deadline for my daughter's COLLEGE admissions was a date on the calendar that I had IN MY PURSE.  Excuse me, universe, but THAT DATE is supposed to be on a calendar that hasn't even been printed yet.  It's supposed to be a date that is so far in the future, is sounds like a science fiction movie.  The year 2458, for example.  October 1, 2458.  That would be fine.

But a date that exists on a printed calendar?  No, I'm not fine with Golda's college admission deadline being that real.  This is a girl who is supposed to still be sitting in a carseat eating chicken nuggets.  How could she be going to college?

On the other hand, it's not all despair.  There are marvelous things about kids growing up.  As Golda and I prepared for our duet for the recital last night, it was deeply satisfying to me that Golda has evolved into a real musician.  She is a great sight reader, which comes in handy when you change the piece you're playing the day of the recital and practice with the pianist at the last minute.  

This week is the week of the year when everyone says, "We're going to plan X event early in December before it gets busy with the holidays."  Consequently, we have three recitals, a work dinner, a ward party and a night of caroling to wedge into our lives this week.  This flute recital, I was so tempted to decline.  And then I imagined my 2014 calendar, with that college admissions deadline glowing an urgent red, and I decided, "No.  I'm not going to decline.  I'm going to play a duet with my baby girl."  I rearranged all my violin lessons.  Scott took Ruby to guitar.  We left in plenty of time to rehearse with the pianist.  We didn't request to be first on the program so we could rush off in time to make it to jazz after.  We just took the time.

It was a lovely recital, and the best part was playing with Golda.  I thoroughly enjoyed blending my sound with Golda's to create something worth listening to.  We leaned into every rubato, climbed the crescendos together, finessed the quiet parts, and finished with a mutual glance and a quiet fading of the last note.

I guess the hardest part of children growing up is losing that duet.  Families are an intricate mix of chamber music, with the duet between mother and child playing a very strong part.  I can feel the cadence coming, and the only thing to do is lean into the music and enjoy the melody.