Wednesday: It's Ash Wednesday, which means Lent, which means no chocolate until Easter. Yes, I know; not quite the same as 40 days in the desert.
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And now it's Wednesday night. My older son had a concert at school tonight. Because this particular concert includes young musicians from the cluster of elementary and middle schools that feed into the high school, it's called the "cluster" concert. "Cluster" is descriptive in more ways than one, but that's a story for another day. Let's just say that it's a lot of kids making a lot of noise, not all of it musical.
The point of this concert is to show the progress that children can make if they continue to take music throughout their school careers. In Montgomery County, band programs start in fourth grade, and many of the students pick up an instrument or read a musical note for the very first time during their first band class. After just a few months, they can squeak out a tune in something close enough to unison that it can be performed in public. Again, "cluster" might not do this type of performance justice, but it's all part of the learning process. By middle school, they can play more complex pieces of music, with actual arrangements. By the time they reach high school, they are pretty decent musicians.
The cluster concerts begin with short performances (two or three songs) by the beginning groups, then move on to combined performances that include the advanced elementary and intermediate and advanced middle school bands. Then the high schoolers take the stage.
At my son's high school, the musicians perform in formal attire. The boys wear tuxedos, and the girls wear black dresses. After the younger musicians exit the stage, wearing dark pants or shorts with white polo shirts, the high school kids make a grand entrance, marching confidently into the auditorium, resplendent in black and white with instruments in hand. They usually get a big round of applause, which they obviously enjoy.
The concert was over in just an hour. I waited in the car as my son helped with clean-up, and then we came home and had a late dinner. Then we watched the news. In Parkland, Florida, children the same age as my son spent the afternoon hiding from a gunman. They weren't holding musical instruments when they were marched in single file out of the school, hands in the air like criminals, leaving behind the bloody, lifeless bodies of 17 of their classmates. And I wondered, what would the blood have looked like on crisp white tuxedo shirts?
Thursday: As always, thank God for all of the fucking thoughts and prayers, because otherwise, you might think that our elected leaders aren't doing a damn thing about routine mass slaughter of schoolchildren. And it just doesn't seem possible that leaders of the greatest country on earth would sit by and do absolutely fucking nothing as the bodies continue to pile up.
"What about Chicago?" That's one of my favorite NRA/Fox News/talk radio rejoinders in the gun control debate. Yes, everyone knows that the city with the country's strictest gun laws is also terribly violent. But if we're going to play "what about?" then I can go all fucking day. What about Canada? What about Australia? What about the UK? What about Japan? What about South Korea? What about Western Europe? What about every other industrialized democracy, similar to the U.S. in so many ways, except that they regulate gun sales, and their children don't get gunned down in their classrooms. What about that? That's my response to "What about Chicago?" Oh, and fuck you, NRA. That too.
Maybe it's not the time. Maybe that's it. It's been almost 20 years since Columbine. 20 years of "not the time." With 8 school shootings in 2018 (a rate of a little more than one per week), maybe the Twitter Thoughts and Prayers Brigade will let us know when the time is right to talk about doing something other than thinking and praying. Or maybe they'll wait until school shootings happen daily and no longer even merit news coverage.
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