Hope for the Future

It’s been a long day, so I’m only going to take the time to share one brief anecdote from it. The Italian procession I played in today went absurdly fast, and the clouds kept the heat and humidity from becoming unbearable. Every year we end the day with a sit-down performance on the sidewalk with a few of the core members of the band. This year was no different, but in honor of the society’s 60th anniversary they had hired a DJ. The members are getting on in years, and I think the legacy is slowly being passed to the 20-somethings. Loud dance music blared from the speakers, and at one point our drummer, the band leader’s son and a DJ himself, was out in the street explaining something called the “pizza dance” which involved gestures like twirling a pie or putting it in a brick oven with one of those big wooden spatulas. It was truly a sight to behold. Eventually, the DJ turned it over to us. Two trumpets, two Baritone horns, and a trio of drummers proceeded to play as we do every year, but after the conga line the DJ had inspired in the young Brooklynites, I definitely felt inferior.

As we finished our first song, I noticed a trio of small children standing a few feet from the band, their eyes wide with wonder. I recognized them from last year when they had plastic trumpets and pretended to play along with us. Off drawing with chalk on the sidewalk and completely disinterested in the DJ, they had suddenly been drawn to us, and were soon joined by a few friends. Any thought I had that our music only appealed to the elderly, that the traditions of these neighborhoods were drying up with our work soon to follow, was now in question. The thing that TRULY blew my mind was when I heard the kids arguing over who “got to be” who in the band. We’re not athletes, rock stars, or gangsta rappers, and yet here were children who wanted to BE us. “I’m that guy, the trooompit!” exclaimed one little boy. “I wanted to be him!” complained the girl next to him. “I’m that guy--the one in the back with the BIG trumpet!” beamed one kid proudly, pointing in my direction. I was stunned. A child wanted to BE me.

I hope these kids pick up real instruments in a few years when they’re old enough. It’s great to think that we could have inspired them. I hope when they go to school they aren’t made fun of for their tastes in music, don’t give in to peer pressure. Why do we do that? Why do we compromise our likes and dislikes for people whose opinion ultimately doesn’t matter? I was very open and vocal as a little boy, and every year I was in school I got quieter and quieter until I grew into a very guarded adult who kept a lot of things to himself. I miss the age of No Shame. These kids were playing mock instruments with their hands and marching proudly down the street. They haven’t had that experience yet, the cool kids looking down at them and scoffing, “Eww, you like _____?!” A great many wonderful things can be squashed by peers.

Children like traditional Italian music. There’s hope for the future yet....