My kid played his last high school concert last night. The last piece was a mambo number that showcased the percussion section. People got a chance to see their musicianship, that they’re not just kids who hit things because they can’t play a real instrument.
There were four Northwood groups performing, followed by an orchestra from Mt. SAC. It was a long program and we decided to leave after the last high school group.
In the parking lot, a bus driver standing next to his vehicle asked us in an Eastern European accent, “Is the concert over?”
“No,” I said. “There’s one more group.”
“The college!” he said.
“I brought them!” he said proudly. “You not going to listen to them? They good!”
He was almost beside himself with disbelief.
“Yeah, no,” I said, “but thanks for making us feel bad about ourselves.”