I’m Thankful for You
"I'm thankful for video games."
Were you a guest at the Brown Family Thanksgiving dinner table, you would be surprised and somewhat disenchanted to hear this inevitable, annual, and astoundingly trivial refrain. You might like to think better of us reflective UUs! For sure, I enjoy Mario, Zelda, and Minecraft as much as the next millennial . . . but of course, the whole thing is a joke. Growing up, my grandmother, Rita—somewhat transfixed by old-world formalities—would suspend the commencement of Thanksgiving dinner for her eight hungry grandchildren until, in turn, we each had recited that for which we were most thankful. My elder cousins, Andrea and Merri-Lee, and I would compete for the gold star of maturity and poise, claiming "peace on earth," "loving family," or the generosity and hard work of the chef and matriarch herself. But my cousin Michael, with deepest solemnity and conviction (and in all fairness, probably a mere 10-years-old or younger), stated that he was "thankful for video games." Younger cousin Glen promptly agreed and seconded Michael's assertion. Meanwhile, I'm thinking, "Can I change my answer?!"
Though the chaotic nature of this family exercise turned me off from thinking too hard about gratitude on Thanksgiving itself for many years, in truth, I engage with this question every day: For what am I thankful? Of course, my myriad privileges in life are not lost on me—a supportive family, plentiful food, clean water, my own house, ableness, and an identity that does not inherently attract the ire of our cultural failings. But an outstanding advent of the past year is a vocation that I truly love: I make music with you for a living. Since even earlier in my life than, "I'm thankful for video games," I have dreamt of sharing great music—and you have given me the high honor and privilege of strengthening our whole community in this medium. As many of you know, if there is something that I love more than music itself, it is making music accessible to everyone. (How many of you have been victims of my, "You only THINK you're tone deaf!" spiel?)
For our Bread Communion service this Sunday, our music will be the perfect manifestation of that for which I am most thankful: musicians of all generations, voice types, instruments, and ability levels coming together to share in the creative experience. The Multigenerational Choir, accompanied by our utterly heterogeneous Community Orchestra, will perform G. F. Handel's “Sing for Joy!” from Judas Maccabeus, Donald Moore's “Thanks Canon” (after the German folk song popularly known as “Music Alone Shall Live”), and Ruth Elaine Schram's “Harvest Song” (after hymn #68: "Come, Ye Thankful People, Come"). The Community Orchestra will play Leo Brouwer's (one of my favorite composers) reflective “Un dia de Noviembre” for our musical meditation, and my own “Harvest Processional” for the Bread Communion, based on a melody from a clarinet trio that I am composing. Led by Donna Feltman, our MLUC Dancers will process to the buoyant final movement of “Autumn” from Vivaldi's Four Seasons. Together, we will sing hymns #67: "We Sing Now Together,” #1008: "When Our Heart Is in a Holy Place," and #1010: "We Give Thanks."
So, next week, my sister and I will honor the family tradition by competing to be the first to assert that "video games" are that for which we are most thankful. But if I am pressed for a serious answer, I will reply that I am most thankful for you, my MLUC family, and all of the joyous music that we make together.
Were you a guest at the Brown Family Thanksgiving dinner table, you would be surprised and somewhat disenchanted to hear this inevitable, annual, and astoundingly trivial refrain. You might like to think better of us reflective UUs! For sure, I enjoy Mario, Zelda, and Minecraft as much as the next millennial . . . but of course, the whole thing is a joke. Growing up, my grandmother, Rita—somewhat transfixed by old-world formalities—would suspend the commencement of Thanksgiving dinner for her eight hungry grandchildren until, in turn, we each had recited that for which we were most thankful. My elder cousins, Andrea and Merri-Lee, and I would compete for the gold star of maturity and poise, claiming "peace on earth," "loving family," or the generosity and hard work of the chef and matriarch herself. But my cousin Michael, with deepest solemnity and conviction (and in all fairness, probably a mere 10-years-old or younger), stated that he was "thankful for video games." Younger cousin Glen promptly agreed and seconded Michael's assertion. Meanwhile, I'm thinking, "Can I change my answer?!"
Though the chaotic nature of this family exercise turned me off from thinking too hard about gratitude on Thanksgiving itself for many years, in truth, I engage with this question every day: For what am I thankful? Of course, my myriad privileges in life are not lost on me—a supportive family, plentiful food, clean water, my own house, ableness, and an identity that does not inherently attract the ire of our cultural failings. But an outstanding advent of the past year is a vocation that I truly love: I make music with you for a living. Since even earlier in my life than, "I'm thankful for video games," I have dreamt of sharing great music—and you have given me the high honor and privilege of strengthening our whole community in this medium. As many of you know, if there is something that I love more than music itself, it is making music accessible to everyone. (How many of you have been victims of my, "You only THINK you're tone deaf!" spiel?)
For our Bread Communion service this Sunday, our music will be the perfect manifestation of that for which I am most thankful: musicians of all generations, voice types, instruments, and ability levels coming together to share in the creative experience. The Multigenerational Choir, accompanied by our utterly heterogeneous Community Orchestra, will perform G. F. Handel's “Sing for Joy!” from Judas Maccabeus, Donald Moore's “Thanks Canon” (after the German folk song popularly known as “Music Alone Shall Live”), and Ruth Elaine Schram's “Harvest Song” (after hymn #68: "Come, Ye Thankful People, Come"). The Community Orchestra will play Leo Brouwer's (one of my favorite composers) reflective “Un dia de Noviembre” for our musical meditation, and my own “Harvest Processional” for the Bread Communion, based on a melody from a clarinet trio that I am composing. Led by Donna Feltman, our MLUC Dancers will process to the buoyant final movement of “Autumn” from Vivaldi's Four Seasons. Together, we will sing hymns #67: "We Sing Now Together,” #1008: "When Our Heart Is in a Holy Place," and #1010: "We Give Thanks."
So, next week, my sister and I will honor the family tradition by competing to be the first to assert that "video games" are that for which we are most thankful. But if I am pressed for a serious answer, I will reply that I am most thankful for you, my MLUC family, and all of the joyous music that we make together.
Posted in Music Notes