Last week, unbeknownst to most people, Dayton, Ohio, hosted the world championships of Winter Drumline. It’s a combination of percussion instruments, dance, and music, with a storyline. Think of it as a very fast-paced half-time show, with only percussion, in 6 minutes or less.
My daughter fell in love with it her second year of high school, and has participated in it through college. Her specialty is the pit – marimba, vibraphone, xylophone. This gives our house a cruise ship atmosphere when she comes home to practice on weekends.
Dr. Allan M. Block
Over the years my wife and I have gone to many of her shows and competitions, streamed others online, and always been amazed by the variety of costumes, choreography, music numbers, and overall themes different teams come up with. We’ve seen shows based on 1930s detective fiction, ocean life, westerns, science fiction, toxic waste, emotions, relationships, flamenco, pirate ships, and many others.
And, as always, I marvel at the human brain.
Only 2-3 pounds but still an amazing thing. The capacity for imagination is endless, and one of the things that got us where we are today. The ability to see things that don’t exist yet, and work out the details on how to get there. The pyramids, Petra, the Great Wall, flight, the steam engine, landing on the moon, the ISS. And, of course, Winter Drumline.
It’s a uniquely (as far as we know) human capacity. To look at a rock and envision what it might be carved into. To look at Jupiter and think of a way to get a probe there. To sit in an empty gym and imagine the floor covered with dozens of percussion instruments and their players, imagining what each will be playing and doing at a given moment.
It’s really a remarkable capacity when you think about it. I’m sure it originally began as a way to figure out where you might find shelter or food, or simply to outwit the other tribe. But it’s become so much more than that. Someone envisioned every movie you see, book you read, and the computer I’m writing this on.
In his 1968 novelization of “2001: A Space Odyssey” Arthur C. Clarke described the thoughts of the unknown civilization that had left the Monolith behind for us as “in all the galaxy they had found nothing more precious than Mind.”
I’d agree with that. Even after 30 years of learning about the 2-3 pounds of semi-solid tissue we all carry upstairs, and doing my best to treat its malfunctions, I’ve never ceased to be amazed by it.
I hope I always will be.
Dr. Block has a solo neurology practice in Scottsdale, Ariz.