By Marilyn Kopelman
A day before our sojourn to hear the Colorado Symphony’s yearly performance of Carmina Burana, I received a phone call from my kids asking if I could please take our granddaughter Reagan for an overnight that very same Saturday evening. Without a moment’s hesitation I said “yes!” I love taking this adorable 8 year old from her parents any chance I get. The thought of snuggling her – no holds barred – without strings or instructions, was music to my ears. Of course I would cancel our symphony tickets and delight in her company at our home instead. But this was not to be the case. Much to our surprise, Reagan wanted to accompany us to the symphony. In fact she pleaded that she didn’t want to spoil our plans and would sit extra still as the music played. Who could resist. She would accompany us on our Saturday night outing.
Luckily a seat was available in the same row as our previously purchased tickets. Agreeable symphony goers moved around to give us aisle seats, which were only 10 steps from an exit to the bathroom, or any other excuse for a quick exit from the two and a half hours of serious music to which my granddaughter had unknowingly committed herself. I asked her to think of the music as a longer and louder round of “ Frere Jacque, “ which she loved to lead us in as a family sing-along any chance she had.
Noted in the program, but a surprise to me, was that Copeland’s Appalachian Spring would precede the combined symphonic and choral extravaganza. Oh well, we could slip out at any time, since our seats were right by the exit door. As the lights of the concert hall dimmed and my anxiety accelerated, my granddaughter left her seat to sit in my lap. She sat upright and enthralled, riveted by Andrew Litton, the enthusiastic and agile conductor, through the full 20 minutes of the opening piece. As the lights came on for intermission and I was about to let her know that we would understand if she had enough, she said “You were right. It’s just like me telling you when to sing for Frere Jacque. He points just like I do! Let’s get a drink really fast so we can come back.” I couldn’t believe my ears…….especially since my husband had nodded off a little, and she had noticed. No sleep or boredom for her yet, but could she really endure an hour and a half of Carmina Burana? We’d soon find out.
Not only did she endure, but she was captivated by the experience. Her eyes sought and landed on the solo musicians. She was especially excited by the children’s choir and the contrast of adult and children’s voices. Reagan covered her ears when the music was enhanced by gongs and drums and bells. She laughed at the antics of the solo vocalists moving half way off my lap so she could also straddle the lap of her grandfather, who had gently placed his hand in hers. She bound the three of us together with her unpretentious joy in sharing the music we have loved throughout our marriage.
When , at the close of the concert, we asked if she had enjoyed the music Reagan’s response was “It was really loud and I’m hungry so let’s go out for pizza!” With that, she took our hands and rushed us through the DCPA mall singing Frere Jacque at the top of her voice.