I like the show “Parks & Recreation.” I think I might like it just because of the theme song. Such a happy song, with lots of instruments. I like songs with lots instruments. It makes me think of high school marching band.
With all those years in marching band (two, to be precise) of playing John Philip Sousa and Disney movie medleys, what would have been the harm in mixing in a little Parks and Rec theme song? I would’ve played the melody, because I played the flute.
Correction. It’s more accurate to say I moved my fingers around while holding a flute. I wasn’t exactly first chair. Or fourth or fifth. Really, by the time they got to my chair it’s customary to stop counting. Which explains why I only spent 2 years doing it.
So I’m no career flautist. But I did learn to march in time. And I learned to move my feet without moving my upper body. Those are life skills. For example, I can drive in a car with an open cup of coffee and not spill a drop, despite turns and brakes and bumps. Actually, that could explain my dancing technique. Segmented. All feet, stiff torso. Or just shoulders and nothing else. I guess not all life skills are good.
My husband says growing up is a process of elimination. You have to take gym class in high school, and art and a language and Social Studies. Then in college you get a little more specialized and eliminate the stuff you’re not good at. Like marching band. Till you find a career, which is basically getting good at one thing and doing it over and over and nothing else.
That makes it sound bad – repetition and consistency. But I remember the terror of college, being told I can do anything I want. The sky is the limit! I could be a writer, a social worker, a kindergarten teacher. Or I could buckle down and learn Calculus, do something brainy. It can be paralyzing, having the world at your fingertips and choosing exactly one thing.
But things do have a way of working out. Careers rarely have anything to do with majors. We tend to gravitate toward what we enjoy doing, navigating our futures as we go. Of all the random classes I took when I was a kid, getting just a taste of this or that, who would have guessed that the sewing class I took when I was seven, in some church lady’s basement, would’ve let to my shop. Not so brainy, it’s really more of a day-dreamy kind of job. With lots of hours and lots of time on my feet.
And it’s perfect.
In the end, it’s comforting to be good at something, like sewing and daydreaming and watching Parks & Rec. And drinking coffee while driving. I’ll leave the marching and the flute-playing to someone else.
