Concert For One
Let Me Tell You About a Legend
My nephew turned 18 this week - my athletic, funny, handsome, seven foot tall, polite, straight A student nephew. I say this without hyperbole. He is a really, really decent human. Little Bean adores him and he treats her with extraordinary kindness. One day, I’ll write a book about my sister and brother-in-law’s parenting mastery, but for today, I thought I’d share an essay I wrote pre-pandemic about a musical moment he shared with my daughter. Given her interest lately in her own musicianship, this particular connection has taken on renewed meaning for me. And I hope for Little Bean as well.
PS: Ben’s little brother, Max, is also awesome!
I hope you enjoy and please join me in wishing my nephew the happiest of birthdays! Love you Ben, keep being you.
CONCERT FOR ONE
I find myself, often, being jealous of the young humans around me. In the case of my nephew Ben, a quick peek inside his closet reveals a guitar, bongos and a cello.
I watch as he hauls out the cello and sets up in front of my daughter. Uma has, of course, pulled out the bongo. He's better every time I hear him play. He has always had a discipline about him that makes him good at sports, of course, but there's something deeper – the kid has a whole shelf of baseball and basketball trophies, but there's also the soul of an artist hiding in there as well.
Jealous? Well, since I neither was particularly adept at sports (I do have one soccer trophy collecting dust someplace) nor a quick learner when it came to music (though I do know the lyrics to literally every Beatles and Queen song pretty much in my sleep) I am in awe of his talent.
I do own a guitar because for years my parents paid for private lessons and worked hard at developing my tepid interest. His name was Mr. Dave and this was the 70s so the main thing I recall is his big black Afro-style hair. I think he was good, but we both sized each other up pretty early on and knew the relationship wasn't going anywhere. He got a few bucks a week from my parents and I was able to feed my parents the hope that I'd somehow pay for their retirement after a stint at Julliard.
But in reality – big surprise – all I really wanted to do in those early days was read, and play Dungeons and Dragons of course.
But I digress. My parents had the same disadvantage then that I have now, which is that they wanted their child to learn how to do something they themselves had no idea how to do. The advantage I have is that my Mr. Dave is my nephew Ben. And baby, you adore him.
So Ben plays for you, and you march around and bang the drum. Honestly, it's short, maybe a couple minutes and then everybody is on to other things – meal prep, football. But a little bit here, a few notes there and who knows where this will go.
There's a beautiful quote widely attributed to Plato about music being moral law and giving soul to the universe, which is nice. But why make it up when what he actually said about music is equally if not more wise: “Rhythm and harmony permeate the inner part of the soul more than anything else, affecting it most strongly and bringing it grace...”
Grace, baby, of course. Ben plays and you listen and Ben teaches you card games and you ride on his back and there's grace present when you roar in laughter and stomp your feet. It's not the cello, it could be bagpipes for all it matters to you. It's him. It's them. Two cousins who are brothers who are inspirations.
Ben plays for you, a concert for one. And when you're done, he finishes as well. And next time he'll do the same. And maybe, unlike your old man, you'll play with him some day.
How lucky Little Bean is to have older cousins who love her and want to spend time with her!