The Flog – The Fabry Log

I had a flash of understanding last night. These come at the strangest times and when I'm not really looking for them.

Brandon, almost 8 now, has a small mp3 player he carries everywhere. Most of the songs are either Brandon Heath or High School Musical. The others are from his older siblings. He plays Nerf baskeball with the earphones in. He listens in the car, on his scooter, and at the breakfast table.

Last night as I passed him in the living room, he had the music on and he was dancing, singing along silently, as if he were on a big stage. He looked up at me and instead of doing what he usually does when I catch him at this, which is stop, he leaned into the performance. Eyes closed, matchstick legs prancing, his head cocked to one side and then another, his exaggerated lyrics coming through.

The only problem was, he was the only one who could hear the music. I couldn't understand the words because I couldn't hear the song that was making him dance. I could only see the effects of the music, and to be honest, it didn't make much sense to me. He was cute, yes. And I counted myself fortunate to have such a wonderful, buzz-cut son, but in order for me to really get into the performance, I had to hear the music.

There are times when Brandon will hear something that strikes him as funny or makes him want to dance and he'll take out an earphone and hold it up to me or one of his siblings. "Listen to this."

It makes all the difference. When the music is shared, it makes the movements and mouthing understandable. Without the music, it's just motion. The viewer remains disconnected from the source of the motion.

Hmm. I could write my application of this, but it seems too obvious. A writer friend of mine says, "Resist the urge to explain." So I will. But I hope it hits you like it did me.