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Mastery to a Child’s Hand
Aug
I recall several memories that have stayed with me for years. And they most likely will remain with me forever.
In no particular order, I remember being in the arena to see Leonard Cohen on his world tour to recoup his financial losses due to the illegal activity of his manager. At one point, he did the obligatory introduction of his band and backup singers. He stopped the music. Silence, putting the focus on the performer. He then told us about the person, taking 30 seconds to a minute for each person. It took a while. There was no sense of restlessness in the sold-out audience.
I compared this recognition at a Jesse Cook concert the following night. During Jesse’s recognition of the musicians, they played an instrumental while Jesse spoke, and the crowd clapped and cheered. I never heard their names or backstories, including learning about their hometown. The recognition was over so quickly.
Those two memories so close together made me realize Leonard Cohen’s mastery at commanding his stage with a genuine appreciation for the on-stage support.
Another memory, but at a much smaller scale, took place ‘On The Hill’ of the Edmonton Folk Music Festival. I was walking on the path down the hill when I felt a tiny hand grasping my little finger as we continued. I looked down, and there was this little boy, hand raised to meet my finger, oblivious that he had grabbed the right finger from a wrong parent. I looked around and saw Dad walking a half step behind me, with a big grin. The three of us continued to the bottom of the hill when the little live music fan looked up.
Priceless.
His mouth dropped open, and thankfully his Dad stepped in to change fingers with me in the smoothest baton pass ever seen. Everyone was safe, and everybody knew it.
These memories were created with my wife in real-time. Bonus.
Please give this a bit of a think. If you could only carry a few memories through your old age and memory deterioration, which ones would you keep with all your life? Why were those so important to you?
I’m curious about your thoughts. Please share your bit of a think in the comment section below. It will come to me for approval before posting.
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After my father passed away and I discovered that he had a brother in England I travelled to London in 2000 to visit his early childhood home. It wasn’t an upscale neighbourhood, the row houses all looked rather drab and run-down; except for one. Not only were there flowers in the garden and lace curtains on all the windows but the front door was wide open! There we stood on the sidewalk, my husband, daughter age 10, Uncle Albert and myself just staring. Suddenly an elderly woman appeared in the door way and we approached her explaining why we were there. After quick introductions she invited us all into her home and put on the tea. She had been a life long resident right where my father lived as a young boy some 85 years prior! She told us what life was like back in the day and it brought to my mind a vivid scene of my father as a young boy running in the back lane . His life was not to be a carefree, happy one but one of loneliness and abandonment after he was placed in Bernardo’s Home.
It’s no secret that the British are known for their reserved and somewhat stand-offishness. I was blessed that summer day by a lovely and gracious octogenarian who by extending her hospitality, left me with such warm and comforting memories of my father. It was the highlight of my trip.
What a wonderful memory to share. Thanks.