Cello

[pegkerr]

On Saturday, Delia and I went to a music store to get her new cello that we will be renting so that she can start playing in the school orchestra.

We chose a 1/2 size instrument for her. I broke into a smile as she plucked a string and then tentatively drew the bow across. That sound brought back a thousand dear memories for me of my mother playing the cello. Mom started when she was ten years old, too, and she has been playing for over sixty-five years. She played in the Evanston (Illinois) symphony orchestra, going to rehearsals on Tuesday nights, and playing in several concerts each year. Attending those concerts was an important part of my own musical education. The sound of Mom's playing was a constant through my childhood. She sat in the living room by the piano, her eyes alight as she practiced, patiently going over runs again and again. To this day, I love the sound of the cello, so close to the nuances of the human voice, because it reminds me so of my mother, and all that her music brought to our lives.

I am thrilled that Delia has chosen to play the cello. If she sticks with it, I will certainly look forward to her playing duets with Fiona on violin. I expect Mom will give Delia a cello lesson when she is up visiting later this month.

Did your parent play an instrument? Did he or she teach you? Tell me how music has been a part of your family.

Comments

[jbru.livejournal.com]

No one in my family played an instrument. At an early age, however, I determined that I wanted to play French Horn. I don't remember what my motivation was now, but certainly the rich tones of the horn are appealing. How did I know what they were, though? I'd heard classical music and even attended a performance or three of the San Diego Symphony in elementary school.

Sometime about 4th or 5th grade I was given the opportunity to play trumpet. I think it was at least partially an economic choice, renting a trumpet being cheaper. I took lessons at school and attended other lessons outside of the regular school year.

In 7th grade, I moved to junior high and enrolled in band. There I was able to play the French horn. The school had two or three that could be used by students and taken home for practice. I remember lugging the French horn in its case for the six or eight blocks from school to home and back again. I learned quickly that one could stash books and even a lunch in the big bell of the horn making carrying it all at least a little easier.

I continued French horn in high school after we moved to Blackduck, MN in 1981 but grew disillusioned with the quality of instruction I could receive in a small, rural Minnesota school. So I stopped in my senior year and didn't pursue any music in college.

I'm returning to music now, however, and have embarked upon a 40-year plan to become an 80-year-old blues guitarist.

French Horn

[minnehaha.livejournal.com]

You don't strike me as a French horn kind of guy.

B