Saturday, August 16, 2008

Why do I get all trembly and tear up?

We drove out to pick up the girls from band camp. What an experience they had! A lot of hard work, a lot of drama, and not much sleep. They don't look in the least bit tired, do they?

The band gave us a concert before we took the girls home. I don't know what it is about marching bands and parades -- I think it is because they are quintessentially American, the America that I missed so much growing up overseas -- but they always make me go all trembly, and I'm in constant danger of crying for as long as they continue playing. Even if my own daughters weren't playing in the band, I would have this sentimental reaction, but with the girls out there, the effect is only intensified.
The four girls, reunited:

I am SO happy that they're home again!!!

5 comments:

clairity said...

I can understand that feeling well. Ever heard taps played at a funeral? There's nothing like it.

Emily said...

It was a great day for the show, though, I think -- not too hot, sunny, no threat of rain.

My father, who does not cry, cried during the Varsity Show one year when the band did a patriotic "montage" in which they reenacted scenes from various battles. It ended with the powerful flag raising at Iwo Jima -- it was quite moving.

Suzanne said...

Taps, played well at a funeral always melts me.

Yes, today was perfect for the show. But even during the Dean Martin parade, when it was raining and cold, I got the same trembly feeling when the band marched by.

Justine said...

Suzanne, I had THE EXACT SAME experience at Mike's performance. I was hoping no one would notice the tears in my eyes.

Suzanne said...

Justine, I saw them! Just kidding!

Dumbstruck by the Mystery

...our temptation is always to impose our prejudices or our measure on reality -- except when we are faced with a fact that leaves us dumbstruck, and instead of dominating the fact ourselves, we are dominated, overcome by it. If there were no moments of this kind, the Mystery could do anything, but in the end, we would reduce everything to the usual explanation. But not even a Nobel Prize winner can stop himself from being dumbstruck before an absolutely gratuitous gesture. If there were not these moments, we would find answers, explanations, and interpretations to avoid being struck by anything. It is good that some things happen that we cannot dominate, then we have to take them seriously, and this is the great question of philosophy. If the conditions for the possibility of knowledge (see Kant) impose themselves on reality or if there is something that is so powerfully disproportionate that it does not let itself be "grasped" by the conditions of possibility, then the horizon opens. If this were not the case, then we could dominate everything and be in peace, or at least without drama. Instead, not even the intelligence of a Nobel Prize winner could prevent him from coming face-to-face with a fact that made him dumbstruck -- instead of dominating, it was he who was dominated. Here begins the drama, because I am called to answer. It is the drama that unfolds between us and the Mystery, through certain facts, certain moments, in which the Mystery imposes itself with this evidence. These are facts that we cannot put in our pocket, which we cannot reduce to antecedent factors.
-- Julian Carron in "Friends, that is, Witnesses."