Art, Culture, Music, Life
I know, I know. The posts are coming fast and furious but, no worries, it won't last long.
My mom "encouraged" me to participate in a variety of activities when I was young. By "encouraged," I mean that she bought two tickets and I'd better get a skirt and tights on 'cause I was going.
Some I really enjoyed. We saw Baryshnikov dance Don Quixote, stalked Andy Warhol in New York city, (really!) and ate Japanese food on authentic tatami mats.
Other events, I played along because I knew they were important to her, but at best I was disinterested. I didn't know who Grant Wood was and was supremely irritated to wait in line for a three-minute viewing of some painting of an old couple and a pitchfork. Juried art shows were also particularly painful for my twelve year old self. Looking back, I see how fortunate I really was to have this exposure.
My girls are pretty cooperative about ethnic eating, exploratory road trips and urban foraging. They're also good sports about attending live theatre shows and even sat through countless hours of recent World Cup soccer.
An evening spent at the Tivoli Theatre watching shorts from the 48 Hour Film Festival yielded uncharacteristic enthusiasm from my former gymnast while writing and artistic collaboration on a 'zine seems to have lit a fire under the teen planning a career in medicine.
Where am I going with this? I don't know. Gratitude to my mom and dad? Hopefulness that my children learn to be true to themselves? Fascination with the never ending opportunities for learning?
Yeah. I still don't know.
My mom "encouraged" me to participate in a variety of activities when I was young. By "encouraged," I mean that she bought two tickets and I'd better get a skirt and tights on 'cause I was going.
Some I really enjoyed. We saw Baryshnikov dance Don Quixote, stalked Andy Warhol in New York city, (really!) and ate Japanese food on authentic tatami mats.
Other events, I played along because I knew they were important to her, but at best I was disinterested. I didn't know who Grant Wood was and was supremely irritated to wait in line for a three-minute viewing of some painting of an old couple and a pitchfork. Juried art shows were also particularly painful for my twelve year old self. Looking back, I see how fortunate I really was to have this exposure.
My girls are pretty cooperative about ethnic eating, exploratory road trips and urban foraging. They're also good sports about attending live theatre shows and even sat through countless hours of recent World Cup soccer.
An evening spent at the Tivoli Theatre watching shorts from the 48 Hour Film Festival yielded uncharacteristic enthusiasm from my former gymnast while writing and artistic collaboration on a 'zine seems to have lit a fire under the teen planning a career in medicine.
Where am I going with this? I don't know. Gratitude to my mom and dad? Hopefulness that my children learn to be true to themselves? Fascination with the never ending opportunities for learning?
Yeah. I still don't know.
posted by SJM at 11:32 PM
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