Edelweiss
Yesterday morning, my wife and daughter sang a song at church, accompanied by #1 son on guitar and #2 son on piano. It was nice. But I knew that it would not, could not, be the end of the story.
The post-song comments... I anticipated, dreaded, prophesied, foreboded, and looked forward to them with mischievous forethought and delight.
The first one was delivered no more than three seconds after the final chord. A nice women two seats over leaned forward and said, “Hey, why weren't you up there?”. A nice women only one seat over concurred. I smiled demurely.
After the sermon, three more like-minded sentiments were lofted from surrounding pews. I mumbled something about being tone-deaf.
On the way out to the foyer, a couple more encouragements were offered. I told them my triangle was out of tune.
The drummer in my son's band pronounced that I should have stood up there with a single drumstick and whacked something at irregular intervals. I made an ugly face.
Out in the foyer, no fewer than seven admonishments were delivered, and those with authority and moderate disapproval. I should have made it a family affair. I apologized for losing my kazoo.
On our way home, my family talked. We do that a little bit. They had all had similar experiences. Apparently there is a general desire in our congregation to hear me sing. Or grunt. Or something.
Before church last night, a friend with some knowledge of my sordid past wanted to know when I would be accompanying my trophy family on the bagpipes. I responded that sadly my lip muscles had atrophied and I was no longer able to play the pipes that well. That's actually true. You need strong, toned lips for the things.
None of these responses were satisfying. Not a single prober was pleased with my deflections. None of my answers had gobsmacked the questioner. Bitter disappointment! But inspiration now filled me. I waited impatiently for the next questioner. As a gentleman approached, the mirth in his eyes telegraphed his intentions. When he delivered the reproach for my unmusical stance, I deadpanned that my interpretive dance wasn't quite ready, but that I would be up there for sure the next time. It seems my delivery was stellar. My antagonist's jaw dropped.
Victory.
The post-song comments... I anticipated, dreaded, prophesied, foreboded, and looked forward to them with mischievous forethought and delight.
The first one was delivered no more than three seconds after the final chord. A nice women two seats over leaned forward and said, “Hey, why weren't you up there?”. A nice women only one seat over concurred. I smiled demurely.
After the sermon, three more like-minded sentiments were lofted from surrounding pews. I mumbled something about being tone-deaf.
On the way out to the foyer, a couple more encouragements were offered. I told them my triangle was out of tune.
The drummer in my son's band pronounced that I should have stood up there with a single drumstick and whacked something at irregular intervals. I made an ugly face.
Out in the foyer, no fewer than seven admonishments were delivered, and those with authority and moderate disapproval. I should have made it a family affair. I apologized for losing my kazoo.
On our way home, my family talked. We do that a little bit. They had all had similar experiences. Apparently there is a general desire in our congregation to hear me sing. Or grunt. Or something.
Before church last night, a friend with some knowledge of my sordid past wanted to know when I would be accompanying my trophy family on the bagpipes. I responded that sadly my lip muscles had atrophied and I was no longer able to play the pipes that well. That's actually true. You need strong, toned lips for the things.
None of these responses were satisfying. Not a single prober was pleased with my deflections. None of my answers had gobsmacked the questioner. Bitter disappointment! But inspiration now filled me. I waited impatiently for the next questioner. As a gentleman approached, the mirth in his eyes telegraphed his intentions. When he delivered the reproach for my unmusical stance, I deadpanned that my interpretive dance wasn't quite ready, but that I would be up there for sure the next time. It seems my delivery was stellar. My antagonist's jaw dropped.
Victory.
posted by Neil at 8/24/2009 02:39:00 PM
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3 Comments:
Bravo!
bagpipes, eh?
I expect sometime in the future a Youtube video of Amazing Grace. You know, like when Scotty played for Spock at the end of ST 2.
It wouldn't be like when Scotty played.
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