Seed: I was a middle-aged zombie
Last week I attended yet another concert. My son had to be there a half hour early, orchestra shirt pressed and clean, viola tuned and ready to go. I brought a book, hoping to get at least a chapter read while I waited. (At least this time we had real seats, not those uncomfortable bleachers native to every middle school gymnasium.) Of course, my hope was in vain. Girls on cell phones flapped around in flip-flops while boys followed a few feet behind, feigning disinterest. Mothers harassed their over-stimulated toddlers, fathers jittered their legs nervously, dying for a cigarette, each of us wishing to be anywhere but where we were. I’m all for showcasing my child’s growing musical abilities, but how many times must I be subjected to a slightly off-key Pachelbel’s Canon?
As I looked around at the hollow-eyed parents, run ragged by after-school sports activities, music lessons, awards ceremonies, gymnastics classes, and martial arts lessons, an image popped into my head. We all looked like zombies, mindlessly lurching toward some unreachable goal, seeking an unknown cure to relieve our pain. And my next thought was – wouldn’t it be really cool if we turned into zombies?
If ever I could transform into a zombie, it would have been at an awards ceremony, or "round-up" last fall, when, while waiting for my kid to receive his Student of the Month certificate, the school principal made us listen to the Pledge of Allegiance, Student Pledge, Teacher Pledge, a recitation of the school's core characteristics (perserverance, citizenship, respect, etc.), the Pledge of Allegiance, Star Spangled Banner, and the school song. As it went on and on, I started to feel like a member of the doomed People's Temple Group, watching as Jim Jones distributed the Kool-Aid. My bottom became numb. Small children wrestled free from their mothers' arms, breaking into sobs when they were once gain herded into strollers and buckled up. Grandparents adjusted their hearing aids. It was interminable.
Imagine the power of zombie transformation. In the middle of a reading of the school lunch menu, I would experience something akin to an out-of-body experience. I wouldn't even remember what had happened, only coming to my senses hours later, drenched in blood, a slightly sour aftertaste in my mouth, and the unfamiliar reflection of fear and loathing in the eyes of people I meet. Finally.
I'll bet it would cut down on scheduled after-school activities. "Remember, let's keep the program short, or parents will start turning into zombies."
Labels: concerts, school events, Zombies
posted by Adjective Queen @ 2:26 PM,
