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Scratchy, squeaky notes stabbed through the homey warmth of our living room. The piercing intrusion was enough to wake the dead. I, a 7-year-old at the time, was the one producing the ear-splitting sound. It was bad.
To see the looks on my parents faces, youd never know it. My delighted mother heartily applauded and exclaimed, Yea! My father smiled, rose from his chair and patted me on the back, his standard way of showing me and my sisters his utmost approval.
It was my first time picking up a string instrument. I had grabbed it out of the case. My sister and my mother had just returned from an evening school meeting, where my sister had signed up to learn to play the violin. The lessons were provided free, as was a loan instrument, as part of the school districts extracurricular offerings.
Lessons during the school day began when a student reached fourth grade. The 9-year-olds were able to select the instrument they wanted to play. When my sister and mother brought the violin home, I eagerly picked it up, placed it under my chin, wrapped my right fist around the bow and eked out those clumsy, scratchy notes. I was ecstatic.
Buoyed by my "achievement," I pleaded with my parents to allow me to take string lessons when I became a big fourth-grader. They assured me that I could, and they kept their promise. When my time came two years later, I began playing viola.
I practiced and practiced and practiced. More during some periods than others, and there were times when additional interests another activity, an after-school job took precedence. But I never strayed too far from my viola.
And it paid off. Since making those first cacophonous sounds, I progressed to serve as principal violist for my All-State High School Orchestra, toured Europe as a member of Americas Youth in Concert and composed several musical works, among other artistic endeavors.
I was very lucky. The world is full of unfair, unkind, unsavory people. The sort of people who think nothing of trying to ruin another human beings even a childs joy. If I had grown up in an environment in which sensitivity and insight were lacking, my music education would have ended with those first, far-from-musical sounds. But I was able to progress on a positive note. I grew up in a nurturing environment with great role models who knew that little things can make an immeasurable difference. That has always buttressed me, and to this day I seek out people who are supportive and positive, like the family and community members who guided me into adulthood.
If my parents had not encouraged me, and if my community had not supported music education in the local schools, I never would have participated in some of the wonderful, mind-expanding experiences Ive had. Learning to play the viola has been a great joy in my life. It showed me that basic love and support, and a lot of hard work, opens doors to tremendous possibilities.
I think back now and marvel at how some of my most enjoyable experiences started with a few nearly unbearable scratches and squeaks. And Im grateful that, with love and nurturing, they blossomed into beautiful music. That is why, along with my dear parents and others, my viola is close to my heart.
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