And so this week’s moment of happiness despite the news.
All four of my kids participated in music activities during their time in school. Three took piano lessons. In birth order, Christopher played the trumpet, Andy played the drums, Katie played the flute, and Olivia played (and still plays) the violin. She also took part in guitar and ukelele lessons, and for a bit, in middle school, was in chorus. Of the four, three actively listen to music today. The one who doesn’t prefers to listen to video game podcasts.
Music plays a big part for me as well, and always has. Like my son, I played the trumpet. I sang in chorus through high school. I wanted piano lessons, but because my brother was a talented organist and we had, first, the not-really-mighty Wurlitzer in our living room, and then the mighty Hammond, my parents said I could learn the organ, and my brother could be the teacher. I wanted no part of that. But when we were at the showroom, my parents contemplating buying the mighty Hammond, the very smart salesman saw me looking in the showcase at an autoharp. I told him my music teacher at school played one, and she let me strum it sometimes. When he told my parents that he would throw in the autoharp for me, if they purchased the Hammond, it sealed the deal. I strummed and sang with that instrument for years. But somewhere in my adult life, it disappeared…I don’t remember how. A few years ago, I found one that looked exactly like mine on a used instrument website. Michael bought it for me for Christmas, and so I have the comfort of it again.
I took piano lessons for about a year. But then there was Michael’s accident, and I ended up quitting due to lack of time and extreme stress. Since Michael’s death, I haven’t yet returned to lessons, even though my teacher has encouraged me, and I look longingly at my piano every now and then. Maybe it will come back, as time passes and memories soften.
But this week, years after I watched my kids in concert, I watched my granddaughter, Grandgirl Maya Mae. She’s in her second year of playing the viola. I watched her last year too, in her first year, and I was thrilled to see her focused concentration, followed by the smile of accomplishment after every song.
I had a client right before this year’s concert began, and I knew time was going to be pressing, but I was determined. I said goodbye to my student on Zoom, ran (carefully) down the stairs, grabbed my purse and keys, and took off. My son Christopher, Maya’s daddy, and my daughter Olivia kept me aware of the minutes by messaging me: “They’re warming up!” “The 7th grade orchestra is on the stage!” “Mom’s gotta go fast!” “You got this, Mom!”
I got there right before they started their first song. The lights were already out in the auditorium. I spotted my kids and took off down the aisle, only to discover that the sloped aisle wasn’t sloped; it had steps. I stumbled, but didn’t fall, slid into my seat, and breathed a sigh of relief.
What Grandma Kathie wants, Grandma Kathie gets. I didn’t miss a note. And my granddaughter was easy to find – she was front and center, first row, right in front of the director. I saw every facial expression, a lifted eyebrow, a toss of the hair, the way she lifted the viola and tucked it under her chin, the other arm rising, poised, graceful, holding the bow. And then the smooth back and forth as that bow, under my granddaughter’s spell, made those strings sing.
The smile of accomplishment. And the joy.
The joy is the most important thing of all. I saw it on all of my kids’ faces. And I remember feeling it. That moment when all of the music, all of the parts, blend together and become one big harmonious sound, which is only possible because you are playing with others. You are cooperating with others. You aren’t showing off, you aren’t not giving enough, you are adding as a solid group to make a sound, to play a song.
It’s teamwork, without being in a sport. And you can hear the result all around you.
This is one good thing about getting older. I can see the generations, literally see the connections, and watch as time goes on, and influences continue to trickle down. The generation before me, in my family, loved and participated in music. My brother and I participated. My kids have. And now…my granddaughter.
Two of my students recently joined a choir, and they just had their first concert.
Maybe I’ll take a step toward my piano.
And yes, that helps. Despite. Anyway.
Do it, Kathie! Bel Canto’s Artistic Director did a small recruitment talk to the audience before our concert. He said he has no argument against the observation that sitting home in one’s recliner is easier than showing up for rehearsals, because it’s true. But, he added, you ask any one of these singers if showing up is worth it. Made me think.
Go, Maya!
We’ll see.