DS16 and his girlfriend like to go to malls, as did I when I was the age of his girlfriend. I lived in London Ontario that year. Every Saturday I took the bus downtown to the mall and roamed all day. After I had hit all my favorite mall spots, I would go to the big downtown public library for awhile and then walk back to the mall and catch the bus home.
We don’t have a mall in our town, but the kids have a three-day break from school and Scott is also on spring break, so we took the opportunity to take them to the mall in Clarksville. There’s a pipe store there Scott wanted to get to know, so it was a beneficial outing for all. I was happy to see a Borders and I spent hours happily there. And came home with a book (Girl Meets God by Lauren Winner) and two CDs. Scott bought us new speakers. He installed them this evening and we are listening to the first of the two CDs, Hilary Hahn’s Bach CD.
At first, killing time, I despaired when I looked at the music section. My experiences in music have sort of muddied the waters for me and it is difficult for me to enjoy music in its own right–for so many years the issue of music was clouded by knowing so many performers or thinking about music business. My natural ear is not so good that I easily rise above the relentless stream of thoughts in my head connecting names to remembrances of conversations we’d had, connecting lyrics to real life passions and tragedies.
So at first I was looking at the bins and doing my usual round of personal connections, feeling nostalgic or feeling sad about people I’ve lost track of or hoping their aspirations have not extracted from them too large a price, have given them what they wanted. Saw my son’s name on a bin divider. Whoa.
But I didn’t want to listen to anything. None of it sounded like fun to me, none of it sounded like nurture or escape.
Then my eye caught the classical section. I remembered how much I’ve been enjoying Scott’s recording of Hilary Hahn playing a Samuel Barber concerto and an Edgar Meyer concerto. There’s personal connections there, but they’re softer, less personal. I remembered how the university concert choir brought me to tears and remembered that I’d love to be able to play the violin. I remembered a date almost 30 years ago now, when Scott and I went to Tower Records late at night in San Diego, and how the classical music records were so inexpensive, some of them, and we came out of there with an armful of treasures.
I poked through the section and soon found many things I wanted to hear–nay, to purchase. I had a very happy time listening to things in the preview headphones and reconnecting with me: my tastes, what I would listen to if I’d never heard of mandolins. After finding too many treasures, more than I could afford, I selected two CDs:
(I want to learn more hymns and the samples sounded beautiful.)