Good Morning.
Even marching band competitions aren't the same anymore. One of my granddaughters was in a competition in Indianapolis over the weekend, and it was vastly different than the ones her father participated in thirty-five years ago when the bands mainly worried about their musicianship and keeping their lines straight. They kicked out a couple of rousing numbers, the flag corps did their thing, the crowd cheered, and all was well. Today a marching band's performance involves a theme with elaborate props that have to be wheeled on and off the field, actors and even acrobats in costume, and dizzying, intricate maneuvers by the musicians in uniform. The shows are designed, blocked, choreographed, and staged.
The competition in Indianapolis was live streamed so I got up bright and early on Saturday to watch several bands out of the several dozen entries, including the one with my granddaughter. There were all kinds of themes but one particularly jolted me out of any remaining grogginess. It was a tribute to the students who have been killed in the school shootings and featured black screens that flipped open to reveal the pictures of some of the victims. The voice over was President Obama's remarks at the memorial service for the first graders at Newtown, Connecticut. It was a poignant and grim reminder that these young people must constantly deal with the violence that has been visited upon them or threatens to be.
The rest of my weekend viewing activities were connected to the television rather than a computer. I watched a Halloween baking championship where grown adults prepared little beasties and other ghoulish confections. I popped in a DVD and watched All the President's Men with a very young Dustin Hoffman and a very handsome Robert Redford. I am rewatching Downton Abbey that certainly presents its share of trouble and conflict, but at least those folks got to sit down to pheasant under glass and were pampered silly while they suffered. If I caught the news for even a second it was centered on the nightmare in Turkey where a reporter was apparently murdered with particular savagery even though the Saudis are trying to lie their way out of it. With only a couple of weeks until the midterms, there also were the political ads, most of them reasonably positive with a couple of nasty ones thrown in for less than good measure.
It's a difficult time, more distressing than other times perhaps, even though we've had wars, assassinations, economic slumps, weather disasters, and Watergate. This is why people flock to sporting events and county fairs and Shakespeare in the park, but even if you have old knees, limited hearing, or a less than substantial checking account, there are things that can offset the assaults from the outside. My tree that had a split personality a week ago is now strutting its stuff with extraordinary color and the two shrubs that were bent over with snow are a vibrant orange-red, as knock-your-autumn-socks-off as I've ever seen it. It's been warm enough to open the windows, but as soon as it cools down again, I will build a fire, perhaps in the morning to have with my coffee and another go at a book yet to be selected but probably a classic, maybe even Jane Austen if I can get up the gumption. I will listen to Mozart who always cheers me up except for the Requiem, and I will wear comfortable plaid shirts and plant several new pots of herbs for growing under the lights on my butcher block.
Best regards,
Elisabeth
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