My mother-in-law has endured a bad trumpet player for a few years now, who lives one block up, in a mostly quiet neighborhood in Northern California. The trumpet player practices late afternoons and evenings. I’ve heard him, and can confirm that he’s terrible, despite his years of practice. Recently, he’s taken up opera singing. My mother-in-law has a second home near us in Nevada, where she’s now spending an increasing amount of time.
A perfectly formed, perfectly delightful essay, Charles. For me it's a beautiful balance between what I know and have experienced and the completely unknown and wish to experience. I am happy to say it makes me ever so glad I live in a small seaside town where at night I hear the distant barking of sea lions ( soothing ) and the near-neighbor barking of dogs ( less so ). I like it when you bring back earlier things, especially your travel/culture pieces.
Beautiful sentiment. Reminded me of this bit of Proust:
"But of late I have been increasingly able to catch, if I listen attentively, the sound of the sobs which I had the strength to control in my father's presence, and which broke out only when I found myself alone with Mamma. Actually, their echo has never ceased: it is only because life is now growing more and more quiet round about me that I hear them afresh, like those convent bells which are so effectively drowned during the day by the noises of the streets that one would suppose them to have been stopped for ever, until they sound out again through the silent evening air."
My younger son, now 30, was fourth violin in a middle school orchestra. Imagine!
But he developed a lifelong love of music so it was worthwhile.
As a violinist and teacher and parent of a beginner I feel obliged to apologize for all of us! I'd like to extend this apology in particular to my husband, my ex-husband, all previous husbands, and all current and previous neighbors, except for the ones in Prague who used to scream in Czech when I practiced scales with the windows open...
My mother-in-law has endured a bad trumpet player for a few years now, who lives one block up, in a mostly quiet neighborhood in Northern California. The trumpet player practices late afternoons and evenings. I’ve heard him, and can confirm that he’s terrible, despite his years of practice. Recently, he’s taken up opera singing. My mother-in-law has a second home near us in Nevada, where she’s now spending an increasing amount of time.
That first line. 😂
That first line reminded me of one of A.A.Milne's short stories for Punch, one about a neighbour learning to play piano.
I can't get over how you make even the simplest of things into something so beautiful.
Harmonica…. My Sunday morning concerts from my front porch are my gift to those who skip church. 😁
One of my favorite crescendos of sound is in Riyadh or Jeddah as prayer call starts from hundreds of mosques and I’m high up on a skyscraper balcony.
A perfectly formed, perfectly delightful essay, Charles. For me it's a beautiful balance between what I know and have experienced and the completely unknown and wish to experience. I am happy to say it makes me ever so glad I live in a small seaside town where at night I hear the distant barking of sea lions ( soothing ) and the near-neighbor barking of dogs ( less so ). I like it when you bring back earlier things, especially your travel/culture pieces.
Beautiful sentiment. Reminded me of this bit of Proust:
"But of late I have been increasingly able to catch, if I listen attentively, the sound of the sobs which I had the strength to control in my father's presence, and which broke out only when I found myself alone with Mamma. Actually, their echo has never ceased: it is only because life is now growing more and more quiet round about me that I hear them afresh, like those convent bells which are so effectively drowned during the day by the noises of the streets that one would suppose them to have been stopped for ever, until they sound out again through the silent evening air."
My younger son, now 30, was fourth violin in a middle school orchestra. Imagine!
But he developed a lifelong love of music so it was worthwhile.
As a violinist and teacher and parent of a beginner I feel obliged to apologize for all of us! I'd like to extend this apology in particular to my husband, my ex-husband, all previous husbands, and all current and previous neighbors, except for the ones in Prague who used to scream in Czech when I practiced scales with the windows open...