Monday, August 1, 2011
As I walked Into....
Mary had a little lamb....little lamb...little lamb
There I sat. A young boy with a recorder on my lips. My fingers dutifully covering and then uncovering the holes on the long end of the instrument. I was in elementary school. It would be the first and last instrument I ever played.
I started strongly. In the beginning. Far ahead of my classmates. Under my mother's tutelage I practiced each and every day. But eventually something happened.
I became bored. Or tired of the monotony. My heart wasn't really in it. The teacher quickly noted the change. My skills faltered. The class moved forward and the turtles passed the hare...
I skipped my only concert.
But now I entered the store on my own volition. A few months earlier Cameron and I had made the same journey. The store clerk sized him up and handed us a violin and bow to try on for size.
Father and son stood together. Tentative at first. Eyes wide to marvel the beautiful instrument that had been placed in his little unsteady hands.
The next week he started lessons. As I sat in the corner of the small study the teacher first instructed Cameron and then turned her attention to me. She gave tips on how to moniter, how to hold the violin, how to angle the bow.
And we learned...Cameron and I. Over months he began to adjust to the weight of the bow, the tension of the strings. I stood over him. I listened to the plink and pluck, the ebb and flow. At times picking up the miniature violin and instructing on what I perceived to be the right stance. I moved the bow back and forth awkwardly my body curled to meet the requirements of such a small instrument.
I found myself looking forward to every evening session. Whistling the tunes as Cameron learned them. My voice straining to the highest E or groaning to the lowest G. A great peace overcame me.
So it was really not very surprising this afternoon when I pulled over upon passing the store on my way home from work. The clerk greeted me energetically.
Are you picking something up for your son?
No! I answered without hesitation...
I was hoping to rent one for myself.
Posted by Jordan Grumet at 6:00 PM