That Passing of Time

"Time is the most undefinable yet paradoxical of things; the past is gone, the future is not come, and the present becomes the past even while we attempt to define it, and, like the flash of lightning, at once exists and expires." 

-Charles Caleb Colton

Yesterday was one of those days where I had a constant sensation of the passing of time. Time is like that gentle breeze constantly, unnoticeably brushing against your cheek, and then every once in awhile that gust comes along that gives you a sudden reminder of its presence. Today was one of those days sprinkled with gusts.

I attended Jonah's 4th grade "Utah" program. The 4th graders have done the same program since the school opened. I can almost sing the songs, I have heard them so many times. You think that you will just forever be attending 4th grade programs, and then, all of the sudden, you're just done. It was the last time I would watch my little drummer keep the beat to the "Utah Indians" song. The last "Utah Rap" I would giggle at. The last impressive recitation of the "Utah Train". The last time I would watch those bandana and pioneer clad little cuties dancing the Virginia Reel or the Electric Slide. It was my life for so long, and now it's  done.

It makes me laugh every time that the whole program is based on Utah pioneer heritage and then at the very end, the kids dance the Electric Slide. It just seems so out of place. But I love watching this generation do a dance that was created for my generation.

When we got home last night, I showed Jonah how the Electric Slide is really done. I showed it in its purest form, as it existed in those high school gyms in the glory days of the late 1980's. He laughed and laughed and made me do it for every sibling that walked into the room. He didn't know quite how to react to his frumpy mom bustin' a move. But I wasn't always frumpy. There was a time that I was thin and young and energetic and cool out on that dance floor with my big hair and baggy shirts and layers of multi-colored socks. I was young once too, before time played its cruel trick on me. How strange to have another generation look upon me the same way I looked upon my mother as she would go around the house doing the "Jerk" or the "Twist". I suddenly have a new respect for that mother trying to hold onto her hipness, not knowing that it had long since left her.

And then it was time for Spencer's "Monster Concert". It got its monster name from the very hugeness of this group of 6th grade musicians. Every year, the district gathers the 6th graders from all of the elementary schools and puts on one big Monster Concert. Well, I should say three big monster concerts now. 1,100 students were enrolled in 6th grade orchestra this year. This particular group was close to 300 strong. I love it! I love to see this passion for music rekindling in the younger generation. I think we can thank inspiring musicians like The Piano Guys for this sudden burst of enthusiasm. I have never seen such a massive cello section in all of my orchestra days. Way to go Steven Sharp Nelson! 

If we can teach our children a sensitivity to fine music, perhaps they will be a little less influenced by some of the filth the media is trying to feed our young people these days. How encouraging to see so many twelve year olds interested in something besides their IPhones or X-Boxes. How grateful I was for the patient teachers busily shuffling from one stand to the next tuning hundreds of instruments. To have such mentors in our school system is an invaluable blessing. Everyone of those busy teachers but one have influenced my own instrumentalists in countless ways.

As I watched Spencer's amazing viola teacher lead these kids in an "orchestral wave" after the kids had rocked "Stringin' the Blues", that gust hit me again. I have been going to these monster concerts for five years now. That little cellist that I watched five years ago as a 6th grader was now sitting next to me, recording the event. She is almost grown. Ready to go to college and seek her own education in music. That little girl has cello students of her own. And there sat her sister, a confident violinist, looking back with nostalgia to her own monster concert. And then it hit me that I will be lucky to attend even one more of these concerts, that this could be my last monster concert experience. This has been my life, and it could be ending.

I have a new resolve to relish these experiences with my children to the fullest. It has become clear that time will not wait for me to really enjoy these moments. Time passes relentlessly whether I cherish it or not. One day these experiences will just be over. They must not pass by unappreciated.