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Michelangelo
Perhaps "orchestra camp"
wasn't as groovy as "summer camp",
instrumentals bowed and plucked
beneath Northern Michigan pines
versus horseback riding, kayaking, and hiking;
and perhaps as a middle school elective
it meant a lot of dedication
and practice at home.
Michelangelo's scroll loomed large
over his slight, boyish frame,
fingers stretched for position,
establishing rhythm, cheek sucked in, lip bit;
and as a teenager he'd flip his head,
curls temporarily banished,
but soon slid back over left eye,
red bandana 'round his wrist
as that was cool; shoulder and arms
supported, fingers moved easily
up and down Michelangelo's neck.
He liked the phrase "Bass players
are sexy" but soon learned
bass guitarists are sexier...
Michelangelo played his part,
raised my boy, accompanied him to New York,
sardined into back seats of ubers
and cabs, folk tunes sung and strummed
in pubs by this dynamic duo...
Brought to tears when I found out
my son sold him, surprised days later
I'm still choked up. Grieving I think;
wish he'd called me instead of trying
to make ends meet.
Some things money can't buy; some things
can't be replaced.
by Margaret Bednar, September 13, 2019
This is linked with "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Just One Word - Groovy"
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| No need to buy my daughter a nice violin... it wasn't her thing, but William did quite well. |
12 comments:
This was great Margaret, enjoyable to get a peek at your son’s musical adventure - and yours. Hopefully Michelangelo went to a good home...
Instruments bring so much joy. It’s an honour to get a peak into Michaelangelo’s life with your son. Glad he brought so much pleasure!.
I still have my original flute and oboe from junior high school. Sad that he had to sell Michelangelo but some some things, you just can't tell your parents.
Aw, I hope Michelangelo ends up in a home where he is just as cherished. Thankfully you still have mementos of that time in your son's life.
This was a nice read, fun life isn't always fun. I am sure he had a hard time deciding to sell Michelangelo. Our next youngest just graduated from college and I asked her if she still had the violin we got her. She said yes, but she doesn't play it anymore. She does still play her keyboard
But like two of my other kids, they will play when they are older, buying their own instruments. Our youngest at ten is a good golfer and doesn't have time. We bought her a guitar once, I am not sure about her still having it. Her dad may have thrown it away, I hope not.
Mrs. Jim plays the piano and the viola. Her fingers are full of arthritis so she dropped out of the church orchestra. I took piano lessons as an adult.
All this to say, "there is hope."
..
Oh gosh, Margaret. I thought maybe we were going there with "bass players are sexier" but the end of your poem still caught me. *gulp*
Hope he's still playing music. Love this capture of your son, truly. Sending love, Mama.
Aww.. That is sad. We place so much worth on the fragments of our children's youths and youthful possessions. Yet, he has embraced adulthood and was able to let go of something, for the sake of something else. As a parent, we are so inclined to step in, and would happily buy that something back to keep for the value we have placed on it. We have to let go in small ways for the rest of our lives.
To give up music is a sad thing... though knowing how an unplayed instrument can weigh you down if you keep it too long it might be a good thing that it hopefully got a new home to be plucked by loving hands...
Hope he got himself a bass guitar
He has a bass guitar and many other instruments. He hopes to get a 3/4 bsss in a couple of years. This was a 1/2 bass. He needed the cash an he didn’t play it as much as the others. I’m better now but it hit me hard for some reason. ;P
My grandmother made me a chair when I was little. She let me help and I was so proud of it. I took it with me everywhere I went. When a child I love very much (well, he's an adult now) started to sit, I gave him my chair. He loved it. When he outgrew it, his mother sold the chair. My heart broke when I learned of it. I cried for my chair.
Today, after listening to you read, after feeling your emotions through the words, all that loss... I, too, cried--for Michelangelo, for my chair.
This might be my favorite poem by you, Margaret. Thanks so much for sharing it.
Thank you for sharing that. I don’t feel so foolish now.
Wonderful poem, and audio, Margaret!
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