Kid Billy sings with the Arkansas Symphony

Nothing worse than a gloating grandmother-who-raised-a-grandson-from-8-months-to-18-years. But that's what you've got today, friends.

When I retrieved this sleeping baby from the foster home where he had been for a few hours one Thanksgiving weekend, I would never have envisioned that, in time, he would grace the stage--along with other students in 5 college/ university choirs from the central part of the state--of the Robinson Music Hall in Little Rock and sing Beethoven's 9th Symphony in all its splendor.

But there he was, and with the help of field glasses, we found him in the 4th (of 6) row, near the end "by the bald man." I also watched him sing. "German is such a beautiful language," he'd said earlier. I thought it was harsh.

"A lesson in patience," my aunt whispered. They had come on stage --black-gowned and tuxedo-ed--before the third movement and stood stock-still, all eyes on Maestro Itkin, until time for their chorus. These were the same folks who any other time would be seen with eyes and fingers on their iPhones and with iPods in their ears.

After three curtain calls, we dispersed and found Billy in the hall by the mezzanine door. Hugs all around for his two aunts, and two friends--one who had attended his school earlier, and who had also sung the Ninth--and his grandmother.

The $50 tickets were worth it.