Firsts

Missa in Angustiis "Nelson Mass"; Te Deum; Franz Joseph Haydn, composer; The English concert and Choir; Trevor Pinnock, conducting

During the first season of “The Family Guy”, one of my favorite shows, Stewie, the one-year-old who talks with a British accent, hates his mother and can only be understood by the family dog named Brian, has his first birthday party. Lois, the mother, is adamant in declaring that all family members will be there. When Meg, the daughter, isn’t at the party, Peter has to go and get her.

Peter: Meg, your mother wants the family together today.

Meg: It’s just Stewie’s birthday. So what if I’m not there? Who’s going to remember?

Peter: Huh, your mom will. Trust me, she remembers everything. In fact, she always says the best memories she has are when you kids were born. Ah, jeez, Meg! That’s it! This day’s more for your mom than it is for Stewie.

Earlier in the episode, Lois voices the sentiment that to celebrate Stewie’s birthday is to honor “the day our family became whole”.

Some of the “first” things that each of us do in our young lives mean more to our parents than to us. Our parents remember our first pair of shoes, our first steps, our first hiccup, our first hat, our first bowl of soup, our first day of kindergarten, our first day of junior high, our first day of senior high, etc. They look forward to those days even before we, the children, are born.

Along the way, though, are the unexpected firsts. Like the day that Mom and Dad forgot to teach my sister K. how to use a straw when she was two years old – and blew a whole chocolate malt up into her face. And the day that my other sister, D., had grown just enough over night, when she was two, and could no longer walk under the table. KONG!! Dad always claimed that D. had been a very quiet baby - up to that point. Things weren't as peaceful after that.

How about the first day that I was allowed to drive the pickup home from the field – and drove it into the lilac bush at the end of the driveway? I didn’t live that one down for quite some time.

My favorite first, however, probably didn’t mean all that much to Mom and Dad. In 1982, at the South Dakota All-State Honors Choir, I finally got to sing grown-up music. The conductor had included Franz Joseph Haydn’s “Te Deum” on the concert. It was loud, it was exciting, it was ten-minutes long and it was in Latin. I had never played or sung adult music such as this before. I liked it. And I couldn’t wait for more.

I remember the conductor telling us men that, “If you want to have a good time, marry a soprano. But if you want to have a good wife, marry an alto.” Somebody asked, “What about your wife?” “When I first married her, she was a soprano,” he replied, “but now she’s an alto.”

Credits: To my cousin, W., who makes FANTASTIC chocolate malts. MMMMmmmmmm. Chocolate malts.

This is the eleventh of my final forty-five CD's.