Если я останусь
9:23 A.M.
Iwasnotlikemyoutgoing,ironicdadormytough-chickmom.Andasiftosealthedeal,insteadoflearningtoplayelectricguitar,I’dgoneandchosenthecello.
Butinmyfamily,playingmusicwasstillmoreimportantthanthetypeofmusicyouplayed,sowhenafterafewmonthsitbecameclearthatmyloveforthecellowasnopassingcrush,myparentsrentedmeonesoIcouldpracticeathome.Rustyscalesandtriadsledtofirstattemptsat"Twinkle,Twinkle,LittleStar"thateventuallygavewaytobasicétudesuntilIwasplayingBachsuites.Mymiddleschooldidn’thavemuchofamusicprogram,soMomfoundmeaprivateteacher,acollegestudentwhocameoveronceaweek.Overtheyearstherewasarevolvingbatchofstudentswhotaughtme,andthen,asmyskillssurpassedtheirs,mystudentteachersplayedwithme.
Thiscontinueduntilninthgrade,whenDad,who’dknownProfessorChristiefromwhenhe’dworkedatthemusicstore,askedifshemightbewillingtooffermeprivatelessons.Sheagreedtolistentomeplay,notexpectingmuch,butasafavortoDad,shelatertoldme.SheandDadlisteneddownstairswhileIwasupinmyroompracticingaVivaldisonata.WhenIcamedownfordinner,sheofferedtotakeovermytraining.
Myfirstrecital,though,wasyearsbeforeImether.Itwasatahallintown,aplacethatusuallyshowcasedlocalbands,sotheacousticswereterribleforunamplifiedclassical.IwasplayingacellosolofromTchaikovsky’s"DanceoftheSugarPlumFairy."
