Normally when I go and tutor children in Fort Lee, NJ, I don't bother calling my cousins. Not that I don't like them, but rather that they are always busy doing other things. But this Saturday I get a phone call telling me to come by for dinner to discuss details on her upcoming concert next week. After a rather tiring tutoring session, an hour of which is filled with a walk to retrieve a forgotten book bag, I stumble to my Aunt's house and find dinner in full swing. And another dinner guest, more agreeable then most of my counsin's friends (although I wonder why they are always male and a year older then her), is present. So we all talk, we eat, my Aunt scolds me for talking too much and eating too slowly, and I make a fool and mess of myself eating their weird homemade wrap your own veggie boiled meat chinese wrap thingy they always seem to eat for special occassions. And then the church organist arrives. She's accompanying my cousin on piano, which is good as a violin by itself is a dangerous weapon at best. She's actually very pretty. And suprisingly young. Almost too young. I'd only seen her late at night, through a minivan window as she and my younger cousin pull off to church in her car. Who would have thought an organist would be so young? I've seen many an organist from many a church, Korean or otherwise, and they are, as a rule, anything but young. But most importantly, it means rehearsal time. And try as I might to chat with my younger cousin, or my uncle, or my aunt (who tries in vain to discuss with me what they want me to do next weekend, apparently make a few announcements and MC the picture taking sessions afterwards), it's simply impossible to be heard over the sheer volume of piano and violin. Plus, I had to go to the bathroom (my tongue was itchy after eating so much Kiwi). As I'm standing in front of the sink, the violin piano combo pounding through the door, and the gentle rain coming in through the window, I realize that what I need is an audio blog. It's not often you get live music as you wash up. And it brings me back to my other classical memories. The time I was walking around at MIT's infinite corridor on Sunday, and tripped across a string quartet rehearsing in an empty classroom. The days in high school when I would fall asleep at my friend's orchestra rehearsals. Those movie moments when life's ordinary moments are suffused with soundtrack. And as I sit and surf the web, reheasing cousin and organist not more then 5 feet behind me, I savor the moment. The Victorian mood. The Ken Burns moment of it all (how in the documentaries the famous dead people are always narrated as having spent idyllic summer evenings listening to their relatives entertain the family with classical music). But this moment too shall pass away, forever. It's nice that she's going off to college and all, but I'll certainly miss these moments. Before you know it, everything is packing up. There's a private preformance for a close family friend who won't be able to make it. Which of course is a little disturbing knowing how late it's getting for me, but off we go. And it's another nice moment. Three families and more all together. The kids talking. The adults talking. Me in my usual spot of being too old and too young to join either group. Like the organist. Who looks even more bored and awkward then I. Only I'm not sure of her English skills, and I don't really want to seem like I'm hitting on her, so I let her be as I play with the camera. And then it starts. And it's beautiful. It's delightful. It's putting me to sleep. Thank goodness for the camera, and the dilemma of the picture. Dilemma in that my cousin is painfully camera-shy. Dilemma in that I can't ruin the moment with the flash, and yet the apartment is poorly lit. Dilemma in that my counsin likes to move when she plays, and I'm using the long exposure setting. 140 shots later, I think there are 5 good pictures, tops. On the way home, inbtween naps on the subway, I ponder. I ponder why it is the rehearsals are so precious, and the preformance so forgettable. Is it because rehearsals are more human? More vulnerable? More intimate? Or is it that I just like the live soundtrack to my life. Mozart's Concerto No. 4 in D Major, K. 218 to accompany my doing the dishes. I ponder why organist insisted on trying to steal my umbrella. Hers was nicer. Hers was clearly Korean (classic tri fold design with wooden handle). Mine was clearly neither (two broken elbow joints, double fold, cheap black plastic handle). Was this a clumsy attempt to create conversation later down the road (Oops, I took your umbrella, let's meet to exchange.)? Is she really that clueless to her personal property? or does she have an affinity for my umbrella. I certainly do. Refuse to upgrade even though much nicer ones keep coming my way. I ponder on how bored and lonely organist looked by herself. Not knowing anyone, and being too young or too old to really fit in. Surrounded by people and yet all alone. Like Catherine Cheng was that one cloudless night in June. I shouldn't have left her (Catherine) so alone that night. . . . . . . . . . . Home, on the other hand, is chaos incarnate, involving poor decisions, a lack of common sense, and a knack for making a bad situation worse. Worse enough to completely ruin the weekend, and with potential to go straight to hell. As in hospitalization hell. But I know for certain where my brother's lack of table glass sense comes from (his childhood insistance on placing fragile glasses at the edge of the table, followed by genuine shock when they inevitably fell and broke).