The Conductor

The third vocational option for Tristan is conductor. Pappa and I took him to the children’s concert of the Lexington Philharmonic. We sat in a box that partially overlooked the stage and the pit. He asked, “Are those black curtains going to open up and people will come out in costumes?”

“No, Tristan, this is a concert not a play or musical,”  Mimi replies.

“Ok, then I’m not going to like it. I will be bored.”

“Let’s listen to the few pieces that will be played before the drum ensemble which is what we thought you would like. Then if after the drums you want to go home, we will go home.”

“It’s a deal, Mimi.”

We were only one piece into the drum program when he proclaimed, “I like this!” And we stayed to the end.

Tristan sings in the children’s choir of our church. Dress rehearsal for their first Sunday morning to sing came right after our philharmonic experience. All during the rehearsal, Tristan conducted his teacher.

His teacher waited to get him alone after rehearsal, bent down to his level and with the gentleness of a warm puppy pointed out to him that there can be only one conductor and that she was the one. She pointed out that he forgot to sing when he was conducting and distracted other children. He looked into her eyes with the sweetest, most innocent face and declared, “Sometimes I just go overboard.”

Conductor, NASCAR driver or museum curator? Stay tuned.

The NASCAR Manager

Tristan ponders his vocational choices

Creative play forms the basis for all vocational dreams. Which really makes me ponder whether grandson Tristan will be the next Dario Franchitti on the NASCAR circuit, by the Executive Director of the Smithsonian or conduct our local philharmonic. His current preferences for spending his play time gives no hint of which way he will turn.

As NASCAR driver he requires the services of the “manager” none other than yours truly, his Mimi. He prefers Mimi as “manager,” who really does the job of announcing, because I capture his imagination about how race day excitement and events might unfold., “Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to NASCAR. You are in for the most exciting day in racing and you will not be disappointed!” His preference for Mimi has nothing to do with my knowledge of NASCAR, cars in general or aerodynamic properties. It’s all about drama and the glib tongue.

Based on the engaging Cars movie and Cars 2, Tristan’s cast metal and plastic cars all possess personalities and moral characteristics. We line them up, sort them into categories and make a place for the pit crew and for President Barack Obama’s limousine and entourage. Tristan always gets to be Lightning McQueen and win every race. Losing is not one of Tristan’s self-identities at this point in his life. So we set up the race in Mimi and Pappa’s living room, family room, kitchen, breakfast room and hall way. It’s takes a lot of real estate to create NASCAR.

At some point in our early days, I must have referred to the attendees as “folks.” It stuck. The watchers of the race henceforth are called “folks.” He divides the cars into various countries usually according to style of cars---these designations zoom over Mimi’s head---but I can always expect Japanese, Chinese, British and Italian cars.

So the “manager” has to develop, at minimum, a British, Italian and Oriental accent because I voice most all characters. The bad guy/car, Francesco got in trouble yesterday. He broke one of the rules of NASCAR and the “manager” called for an investigation, penalty and fine. I must have been on a roll as Francesco’s angry mother who attended the race. I ranted and raved in my best Italian accent. So well, in fact, that Tristan broke character and inquired, “Mi---------mi, are you mad at me or are you still being Francesco’s mommy?” Guess I played my part well.

My little NASCAR fan also confuses whether the driver breaking the rules has to be accountable to the track rules or his mommy. Guess we know where is locus of authority still rests.