i have mentioned before how much music has always meant to me. how i grew up surrounded by the music of my dad and uncle. i have never told this story- my own music story- until now. when i was very little, about six years old or so, my great uncle let me borrow a child sized violin. it was the most beautiful thing that i had ever seen. smooth, rich wood and a lovely sound. i am not sure how it was determined that i should take violin lessons. my great uncle and his family all played a musical instrument of some sort- the violin, cello, piano, to name a few. i suppose the fact that i was always singing to the top of my voice, sometimes even in my sleep, gave someone the idea that music lessons would be in order.
my violin teacher was a very stern and highly emotional person. she weighed about 90 pounds soaking wet, and she had a voice that sounded like nails on a chalk board. i should add that she was not afraid to use her voice- either to correct our form or technique or whatever else her students needed to improve upon. when we would arrive for our lessons, her husband would head out to mow the grass ( he must have had the most manicured lawn in town, i realize now). my violin teacher swore that her husband was deaf, but i never thought so. he would wink at us and tell us that while his wife thought she was giving us violin lessons, we were actually playing " the fiddle". she gave several children lessons each week. we each had our own designated day of the week for a private lesson, with ensemble occurring at the end of each week. another one of her "endearing" traits was her habit of banging her head on the piano when our performances were less than stellar. she must have had numerous headaches.
one story that i recounted to my own children was the day that a man, woman and their two children showed up at my violin teacher's house to observe a lesson. and i was the student that day. after talking over the particulars of the lessons, cost, etc with the parents, she told everyone that i would play a piece for them. i was not prepared, and frankly, i was extremely nervous. i can remember how scared i was- sweating bullets to say the least. so i played. and after they had gone, i was sure that some head banging would be forthcoming . instead she just looked at me and asked me very quietly, when i had learned to play with vibrato. i mumbled something, but in truth, i was just so nervous that my hands were shaking, thus the vibrato. and by the way, those two children ended up in our group.
when i grew a little older, i had to put my child sized violin aside, and trade it in for a grown up violin. it was never the same after that. my new violin was not beautiful, nor did it have a very good sound. because of this, i stopped my lessons, and began to play the flute. while i have many good memories of playing in the high school band, my first love will always be the violin. and even though my violin teacher was quite the character, she really cared about her students. she always gave us bags of popcorn, or homemade taffy. we had our lessons right after school, and she knew that we would be hungry.
you must be wondering how this relates to me getting through chemotherapy. i was alone a lot- my husband was working full time, and we live in a pretty remote place. there were several days during my chemotherapy that i could not get out of bed. i would get the famous cold washcloth for my head and count down the hours, minutes until my husband came home. to take my mind off things, i listened to pandora- my george gershwin station. the music took my mind off how sick i was feeling and transported me to a happy place, a safe place. there are many things that cancer patients can do to make things easier. being out in nature, taking a walk, reading,and so on. for me, music was the key. and to think it all started with a beautiful child sized violin.
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