The Stockholm Konserthuset, “the concert house”, had an open doors day today, in a effort to get kids to come to the city, see the fabulous blue building, try some instruments, and get so totally hooked on classical music it ain’t real, baby.

People often ask me whether my son plays hockey and when I tell them that he doesn’t, they often give me some words of encouragement and consolation, and they tend to fall into two categories.

i. “Well, he’s just six, there’s still time.”
ii. “Maybe he’ll become a violinist.”

For some reason, it seems to me, a whole lotta people seem to think that playing the violin is a widely accepted symbol for being everything that hockey is not. Un-hockey.

(My son seems fairly interested in writing about hockey. What a weird world.)

Anyway, we went to see the un-hockey world, the four of us. We got to the Concert House – one of my favorite buildings in the city, by the way, because it’s so blue – just in time to see the popular children’s program host do his bit on stage.

The kids loved it. They were clapping and stomping, singing and chanting, sitting down and standing up. We got seats on the last row in the balcony so I’m not exactly sure of everything that took place on the stage – but I do know what the lady who saw everything looks like from behind.

And yes, we – and, ahem, with “we” I obviously mean my kids – tried the oboe (against all odds, he aced it: made a sound), the flute (they both did), and … the violin (coached by a fellow Finn, which made it all even more special).

I don’t know anything about the violin, but it seemed to me that my son has talent. I think his interpretation of the Tchaikovsky piece was pretty good. Sure, a little rough, but considering it was the first time he held a violin in his hands, I was impressed.

Whether that has anything to do with his hockey talent, remains to be seen.