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Memories from my childhood lie scattered here and there like grains of sand littering the boardwalk at the beach. As I walk the boardwalk some of those memories end up stuck inside my sandals while others resettle in between the many grooves and cracks of the wooden boards that make up my mind. Of course now is the time I have to wonder what the heck I’m even doing at the beach since I don’t even like to spend time there. Let’s just pretend I went to take some photographs, and ended up having to stop and view the scenery a little more closely.
As I lift up one of my sandals and pour the sand out I notice that these grains show details of the relationship I had with my mother when I was really little. Specifically of the effort she took to install the fundamentals of music within me as I matured. My mother has several degrees/certificates in music education as well as one in music therapy so there was always music in the house when I was growing up. I can remember lots of classical, jazz, and soft rock music, and I can even remember my mother playing her grand piano. We also had a slew of rhythm instruments that I was always eager to bang on. *wink*
When I finally achieved status as a third grader it was time for me to think about whether or not I wanted to play an instrument. It wasn’t like I had any choice in the matter however, because my mother already decided that I was going to start learning. I remember I whined and complained like a typical nine year old, but my mother held her ground and said that playing an instrument would help me with my academic achievement and learning processes. Although when she told me directly it was more like, “playing an instrument will help you do better in school.” So I was left to wonder which string instrument I wanted to start learning. Of course I wasn’t the only third grader whose parental unit had forced them into learning an instrument, as I spoke with my fellow classmates I learned that several others had to make a slimier decision. Between us all I learned most had decided on either the cello or violin with the majority picking the violin. After carefully weighing my limited options I was peer pressured into choosing the violin. You see I really didn’t feel like carrying a big heavy object around all the time, because I walked to school. And everyone else was playing the violin, so I couldn’t be the only one playing something different.
The morning of the selection I sat on a bench outside the lunchroom waiting my turn at fate. Presently my name was called, I walked into the room, and over to one of the music teachers who asked me which instrument I wanted to try. Naturally I told her violin. A few minutes later she had helped me position it on my shoulder and instructed me on the art of producing sound. Scraping the bow along the horizontal, perpendicular to the fingerboard, all I heard was this cartoonish twang. After trying several more times, and eventually smoothing out the bow stroke to a somewhat manageable sound, I was then asked if I wanted to try something a bit darker. Assuming the lady helping me meant the cello, I said yes, however, much to my surprise I was then given what looked like a slightly larger violin. When I pulled the bow over the strings I was very surprised to discover a beautiful, rich, sound that was much more pleasing to the ears. Finished, I was asked which one I liked better, I immediately pointed to the instrument I just played.
“Ahh”, the lady said, “you like the mellow sound better. “ She then scribbled on a paper, presented me with it, and said that I had chosen the viola.
Viola?? What the heck is a Viola?? I’ve never heard of a Viola??
My education about the viola started as soon as I got home that day. When I walked in the door my mother was very interested in learning what instrument I had chosen. When I told her, she was very happy for me, and began to explain as only a mother could, the role a viola plays in an orchestra. It was a different story, however, when my father came home. While he did provide support, his advice quickly turned to humor and comedy. Through my parents’ nurturing and my schoolmates’ tomfoolery I quickly learned there are quite a few pros and cons to playing the viola. Through the years the positives and negatives somehow managed to fuse together into one giant double edged sword ….with sticky rosin.
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