Friday, June 7, 2013

my musical career

I am not musical. 

Don't get me wrong...I love listening to music.  I appreciate music.  I just can't make music.

But early on, my parents didn't know this. 

In fourth grade, we were required to sign up for a musical instrument.  I don't know how it was decided that I would learn to play the viola, but that's what I ended up trying to do.  I was excited.  I would get to make music.  I just didn't make beautiful music.  My parents encouraged me to the extent that they signed me up for private lessons with my school instructor at her home.  How painful those lessons must have been for her.  I just didn't get it.  I had absolutely no ear for tuning the instrument or playing it.

The next year I joined junior choir in church.  We sang from the balcony in the large sanctuary and our voices carried out over the pews below.  I tried to sing the same notes as the girl next to me, who had a lovely voice, but my voice kept sliding all over the place and amazingly painful noises came from my throat. 

Years later that same church sanctuary became the Performance Hall at the Hochstein School of Music and Dance.  It has award-winning acoustics.  I wonder how well my voice carried without my knowing it, and how many people who were in church when I "sang" still cringe with the memory.

Fifth grade was also the year that my teacher realized I couldn't see the chalkboard unless my nose was almost touching it.  She told my parents I needed glasses.  I got the glasses and vividly remember being up in the choir balcony and looking down to see my parents beaming up at me.  Before having the glasses, I never knew where they were in the crowd!  My fuzzy world was suddenly crystal clear.

Regular RPO concert subscribers, my parents also thought I should take piano lessons.  They bought a piano, a beautiful Wurlitzer piano.  It had a place of honor in the living room.  I took lessons from a woman down the street who had a flourishing business teaching the neighborhood kids and a few others.  Her business was flourishing; I wasn't.  The lessons continued for many years, but my playing never improved too much.  What frustration for both of us!

After Mom had passed away and Dad moved out of our longtime home, the piano needed a new home.  It came home to me.  Our kids took lessons, doing much better than I ever did. I "played" it occasionally during the year, but really ramped it up to play Christmas carols for the family gathering each year at our house on Christmas Eve.  We all "sang" together, with some of us producing more moaning noises than lilting notes.



With our move to the country 13 years ago, we now host Christmas dinner rather than the Christmas Eve gathering.  My annual piano gig has morphed into our singing a cappella, still somewhat painful when my brother and I are in full voice. And now, with no need for a piano in our home, and our kids not interested in taking it, we have gifted it to our cousin.  It now lives happily at her house, where she has two musical children who will enjoy playing it.

Goodbye, dear friend.  Thanks for the memories.  And goodbye to my never-thriving musical career.  It was painful for all of us.

1 comment:

  1. Hi Francie! I was hoping you could answer my quick question about your blog! I'm Heather and it would be great if you could email me at Lifesabanquet1(at)gmail(dot)com :-)

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