ewt | (no subject)

I remember going to the symphony with my grandmother to watch my father play. I think I was dressed up nicely. I was excited to go. I don't remember whether Dad was Concertmaster at the time; my brain tells me he probably was but my memory doesn't know. I remember my grandmother let me look through her (gorgeous, mother-of-pearl) opera glasses to find my father. "Doesn't he look sharp?" she asked. I didn't quite understand what she meant. I don't remember whether I answered that he looked more round to me, or not, but I do remember thinking he wasn't pointy at all.

I remember watching television at my grandparents' house, in the cool, dark basement. I must have been six or eight years old, I'm not sure. An advertisement for the Regina Symphony Orchestra came on and I rushed upstairs to ask my father if we could go. I squealed, "There's a symphony tonight at eight o'clock! Please can we go? Please?" And he phoned, and got tickets, and we went.