The Maestro

Mister decided to continue his cello career in middle school. A couple weeks ago he had his first concert along with the students from the 7th and 8th grade.

His class is still learning to tune their instruments, of course, so I didn't expect a lot.

One thing I didn't expect was a last minute rush to get Mister properly uniformed. A week before the concert, remembering that Mister's white shirt and pants in the spring looked to be about a week from becoming too small, I asked his mom if he was all set for his clothes. No problem, I was assured.

Then the night before the concert I asked again. Absolutely, I was assured. And she brought out his clothes. Mister couldn�t even button the pants and the shirt sleeves weren.t even close to reaching his wrists. Oops.

So my job became to get home early to pick up Mister and go get clothes. Go to TJ Maxx, which is close by, my Ex told me. Sounds like a plan, I thought.

So I made it back to Ann Arbor by 5:20 , a full 55 minutes before Mister was supposed to be at the auditorium for the 7:00 concert and ten minutes ahead of what I had planned for. Lamb wanted to go with us, but I told her she had to stay with her grandpa until her mom came home. Lamb would have slowed us down enough to make a difference in a tight schedule. No offense sweetie, but we'll be back. That took half a minute and I figured I passed the main obstacle to finishing this within the time limit.

We pulled into the first parking spot I found and started searching. Sadly, it took ten minutes to confirm from a scarce employee that the fact that I could not find children's dress clothing was because they don't carry it. Great.

Mister was worried. We hurried off, with me still limping from a gimpy mystery foot injury that I'd woken up with earlier in the week. (I assume that is what happens when you get older--things just break down for no apparent reason.) I reassure him that as long as we made it back to his mom's by 6:00 , we'd have time to get his instrument and cut off all the tags, and still make it on time.

We headed for Target. Meijer was nearby as a back up. If both failed, we were hosed. We were too far away from my place to let him borrow some over-sized but appropriate clothing.

So we rushed into Target, focused on black pants and a white shirt. I was guessing that a size 16 would be the best since 14 fits now and it would be good to have something that would last until spring, if I could manage it.

After 30 seconds of looking in the boys section, I nabbed an employee who helpfully got us in the right place. Pickings were sparse, I have to say. But I did find one pair of size 16 black pants and one size 16 white button-down collared shirt. They had nothing in 14 and no other 16s! But on the other hand, if these fit, all we needed were one of each.

So we quickly strode/limped back to the changing room and Mister tried them on. All fit although the pants were a bit loose in the waist. So it was back to boys for a belt. All of the belts were way too small for Mister. This was astounding. Mister is thin, but no boys belts fit him?

So we went back to the men's section and we got him the smallest men's belt I could find. By going to the last notch, it fit.

The lines were not long, and I will note that the time stamp on the credit card slip recorded 5:53 PM .

We made it back to his mom's just shy of 6:00 , and I snipped off the tags as Mister undressed. He got everything on, put his cello in my car, and headed off to the school. Lamb stayed with her mom since we figured Lamb would fidget too much with an official start time of 7:00 .

And we walked into the auditorium by 6:15 . Mister, apparently recalling my stories of how I'd tell his mom back in the day that we had to be places a half hour earlier than we really had to be in order to stand a chance of arriving on time, informed me that he really had to be there by 6:20. Hey, I protested, this is dad you're talking about! I got you here on time! Oh well. His future girl friends and wife can thank me for this habit, I suppose. It lessens conflict, trust me.

I saved a couple seats for Lamb and her mom, and watched the kids tune up their instruments, avoiding just staring at Mister out of sheer boredom. A mom nearby had brought a book. She�s done this before, I assume. Live and learn.

The concert was very nice. The sixth graders managed to carry a tune, actually, though it was hardly what you'd call "good." The seventh graders and eighth graders, all clad in black, were actually far better. And they were far more female dominated. The sixth grade orchestra has lots of boys. But they were few and far between in the higher grades. Sports take their toll, I suppose.

Trying to make pleasant conversation, I asked my Ex if it was a big deal to graduate from white shirts to black shirts. I actually know that all-black is the uniform of real orchestras so I assumed it must be considered a bid deal to go all-black. My Ex treated my question like a raving of a lunatic, so I just dropped it. Lamb had not been terribly cooperative prior to reaching the concert, I take it (though she seemed to me within the bounds of her age during the concert), so her mom didn't seem receptive at that moment to polite small talk. Oh well. We get along just fine, actually. But we are divorced, after all. I later asked someone who would know and who lacks the same reflex response to me, and she told me that yes, it is a fairly big deal to graduate to the black shirts. Thank you for that, it's nice to know I'm not dimwitted.

The orchestra teacher finished up with his own cello solo and boy was he good, to my untrained ears. I just wish the accompanying recorded music hadn't drowned him out so much.

So we had a success. Mister did a great job, as far as I could tell. Although my part was really restricted to getting my young musician properly attired and to the event on time, under the circumstances I felt like I should have wielded a baton (or whatever they call the stick thingy--maybe I am dimwitted). Really, I was in my element in this situation. Classical music? I know little. Early in my career I wrote a tribute to a conductor upon his retirement from the local symphony orchestra that apparently brought the man near to tears and prompted the legislator who read it to him on stage to interrupt himself and say "this is really good." But I knew nothing of classical music. I even bought a book that I started to read on the subject, but I never did finish it (Obviously, that was female-related, which is why I stopped reading the book ...). So my classical music knowledge is all Bugs Bunny-related, for the most part.

But put me in a time crunch situation with limited options? I'm there. Work the problem until there are no options left, is my motto. We solved the problem. And Mister and his classmates did a fine job on stage that I thoroughly enjoyed.

Maybe I'll have a chance to use my tuxedo in the near future after all.