Today we tried something totally new for our family; we hosted a "house concert." The artists were pianist Sam Stryke, and bassist Larry Kohut. We had 32 people here to enjoy Sam's music, much of which was released on his CD Christmas. We also had the chance to hear some music from his Emerging CD, and some new Christmas arrangements to be released in November of 2009.
Sam's music seemed to fill everyone with a lot of joy today; there were many indicators of that in the reaction of those in attendance. But it was no more evident to me today than through the body language and actions of Miles. He was completely transfixed on Sam and his music, from the time Sam did his 'sound check' (frist picture), until the concert concluded, Miles was mezmorized by Sam's playing.
After the sound check, but before the conert started, Miles approached Sam on his own and said, "Mr. Stryke, I was wondering if you would like to play a Jingle Bells duet with me?" Sam was incredibly gracious, and made Miles feel very important. So much so that as we came out of the intermission, Sam had Miles come up to the front and played Jingle Bells with him (click here to see a short video of it). Later, long after the concert was over ... long after the guests had left ... and even after I had folded up all the chairs ... Miles was sitting behind the piano composing music. He had told me while I was cleaning up that he was writing a piece called "Winter In The Sun," and that it was about "Christmas in L.A. where Oliver lives, because they don't have snow."
Kristen had left the house to go shopping with Terri Williams. Emery was watching the Wizard of Oz on TV in the family room. And so I just sat down quietly in a dining room chair - in the shadows - and listened. (The last picture was taken from my vantage point.) He was so engaged in his own music that he didn't even know I was watching. What Miles was playing was so unquestionably influenced by his afternoon of listening to Sam Stryke's music that I found myself just kind of in stunned disbelief. There was no music in front of him; he was just experimenting with scales, short melodic motives he was making up, and chords with open fifths, ninths, and suspensions. Sam's concert had been the "picture" that was worth one-thousand words.
After about ten minutes of listening to him, he finally turned his head to notice me siting in the shadows of the dining room. Miles came over to me ... crawled up in my lap ... hugged me around the neck, and said, "Dad ... getting to play piano with Mr. Stryke was like a baseball player getting to play ball with Derek Lee." Definetely a "dad moment" I won't soon forget.
I told Miles I was really proud of him today, and that his Great-Grandmother Gigi (whom we thank daily for allowing us to be the current custodians of the family piano) would have loved hearing him play his duet with Sam Stryke today.
