Repeating the Sounding Joy

Last week was our school’s Elementary Winter Concert.  On the streets of my predominately Christian village, we call it a Christmas concert, but we do try to be politically correct in school.  If you have never attended an elementary music concert, put it on your bucket list immediately.  It is worth the hour and will make you smile for a week after.

Elementary kids in their finest attire, fancy dresses and curled locks for the girls, ties and slicked coifs for the boys.  There is always at least one young man with his tie slightly askew and a young princess whose tights are just not right and need adjusting.  But that is part of the fun.  And JMumbo was no exception.

I will give him credit.  He didn’t form goggles with his hands to see past the stage lights into the audience.  He just squinted, which caused him to look like he was in pain while singing.  I know it wasn’t the song choices.  If the amount of practice in our house was any indication, he loved the songs, bellowing them out while dressing in the morning, while Coach was watching SportsCenter, and in the shower, a favored place to sing.  We all knew the words at concert time.  He did have to stand next to two girls, which might account for a grimace or two, but I have a feeling the lights were a bit bright for him.

The real show began when the younger chorus stepped on the risers.  Waving and searching for familiar faces was rampant, along with several shouted “Hi!’s” into the audience.  Once the singing began, you couldn’t help but smile.  There were the jammers, who may or may not have known the words, but pretended while enjoying the beat of the music, swaying and dancing.  Stage fright took a few who stood with deer in the headlights faces through the first song.  Then there were the kids who repeated the sounding joy every song.  They threw their whole souls into singing and it radiated from them.

When it was time for the band, I was pretty excited because JMumbo was on the end with his trumpet.  A clear view, easy to take a photo or two.  There was some concern by Coach because JMumbo chose to sit on as little chair as possible, about 2 inches total, and stretch his legs out in front of him. It was a good thing he was in the back row.  There was barely room for the percussions behind him, he took up so much room.  Apparently musical artistry can’t be confined to a single row!  The band started to play and sounded wonderful.  The tempo was good, not many squeaks or squawks, they all were pretty close to the rhythm.  It was when the song ended that the real show began.  Playing trumpet means that you have a spit valve.  It allows you to clear the trumpet of accumulated spit from blowing that can change the sound as you play.  From what happened next, JMumbo has a lot of spit.  He cleared his trumpet onto the floor next to him.  In full view of the audience.  It wasn’t quiet, it wasn’t circumspect.  It was loud and proud. I laughed, it was typical JMumbo.  And then he did it after the next piece too.  And the one after that.  I was surprised there wasn’t a standing pool of water next to him on the stage when he finished.  I wanted to bring him a bucket to hold it all after I crawled out from under the seats.  It sounded like a faulty blowhole on a whale, wheezy and sputtering.  And everyone saw it.  Everyone heard it.  It’s a good thing he is still young and cute.

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