Two editors review lunchtime tunes
by Noah Kotlarek and Sebastian Guccione
News and Opinions Editors
WARNING: DO NOT WASTE YOUR TIME READING THIS ARTICLE.
What’s more beautiful than sharing food? Sharing music—and, you ask, what happens when you share both? Love, which is exactly what Fordham University provided its students on February 5th, 2020, yet another year of our Lord. Preparing for a quick lunch date, we were walking to the Mecca of Fordham University, the cafeteria, excited by the thought of consuming its nutritional product, and not expecting anything out of the ordinary. What we found, however, was extraordinary—the real fountain of youth—a small band of six middle-aged men playing jazz. Notably, the drummer of the band resembled an older version of one of our very own Editor-In-Chiefs, Christian Decker. All the more delightful! As one of us sipped minestrone soup and the other spooned a Cocoa Puff-and-Mini Wheat-cereal combo, the sounds of Eugene’s sax and the tickling of the ivory by the pianist permeated our membranes and filled our hearts with cheer. Much like the bowl of Lucky Charms one of us was eating, with its magical elements, each note and nuance of the tune inspired us to reach for our dreams, chase the leprechaun, and find the end of the rainbow.
The only point of disappointment during our caf experience arose from the ungratefulness of, and we’re ASHAMED to say it, one of our own Fordham Rams. This individual was sitting at a table adjacent to the band and was unapologetically listening to her own audio with AirPods. Now, I don’t know what she was listening to, but it must have been an audiobook of the Bible narrated by Jesus H. Christ himself to justify this level of disrespect. We’re positive that Pope Francis, even given the option of the aforementioned audiobook, would’ve preferred the jazz. Trust us.
Leaving the cafeteria, we were not only metabolically rejuvenated by the carbohydrates consumed, but also mentally stimulated by the jazz. Throughout the day, the notes still bounded in our heads, like the background music of the movie that is our lives. The experience. Oh, the experience.
Though neither of us made premarital eye contact with any of the performers, we did feel deeply connected with the musicians and their arts. Regrettably, when we passed them as we made our exit, all that we could muster in the face of such bountiful glory was a weak nod and an inaudible mumble of “Thanks,” our eyes averted in the downward gaze many of us have perfected while passing a peddler on the street. A shame, but not enough to drown out the joy we had just received. If anything, our poor recognition of their gifts was a learning lesson, which encouraged us to appreciate the simpler things in life.
The performance of February 5th was the band’s fourth year playing at the cafeteria. Collectively, we wish that we could have entered Kindergarten many years earlier than we did, so that we would have been at each and every cafeteria jazz spectacle.