Day of Firsts . . . Reprise

On Saturday, I referenced two firsts for my son: the violin recital and his first necktie.

The violin recital went very well. Graham did not seem nervous prior to performance, although he did refuse to take his violin out of the case for a picture once he had finished practicing earlier in the afternoon. The picture above shows a hint of the black violin case. When his time in the program came, he strode confidently to the music stand, took his bow and waited for the pianists' cue. He played flawlessly. After another bow and cue from the pianist, he completed his second piece, again with excellence. Another bow, a big grin, and he was back to his seat.

One of the most delightful parts of the evening occured during the reception when Graham and a friend slipped away, took out their violins and began to play one of his pieces. Everyone seemed delighted at the spontaneity of the moment. The little guy seems to have a true love of music. He is also quite comfortable and poised in front of a crowd. It's a wonderful thing to see and experience his confidence and joy.

The necktie was a big hit. After a surprising number of calls, Nordstrom's delivered and with a wide selection. He loved the tie and remarked it was very much like one of Dad's. Appropriately, after the recital, he loosened it for a bit of informal play.

Music in the House

On this rainy, grey California afternoon, I'm listening to my son play his violin. He's been taking lessons for six months and loving it.

We are a week from his first recital and he seems very ready. In fact, tonight we have rehearsal with his accompanist in preparation for the big event. It boggles my mind that a seven year old requires a pianist for "Bessie the Cow" and "Itsy Bitsy Spider" but it really does add a different dimension to the work.

I am staggered by how challenging the violin can be. I never understood how physical it is to play the violin. Indeed, his first month of lessons seemed primarily focused on just getting the violin to meet his body in an acceptable and comfortable way.

I am also in awe that my son has learned to do something of his own motivation and wholly apart from me. He speaks of open strings and various fingerings with a fluency that sends me dashing for his music books. He practices (mostly) of his own volition, working through lessons and memorizing pieces. I watch him play, from a respectful distance, as often as possible. The concentration that furrows his brow, the tiny foot tapping out rhythm, and those mutterings of "rest, rest" under his breath speak to his complete engagement.

Keep up the good work, kiddo. Bravo!

Just Ask

I am on a business trip to Chicago and, by chance, ended up in the front seat of the taxi returning from dinner. The taxi driver was listening to the radio as we drove, visibly moved by a contralto's aria pouring from his speakers. We began to discuss how strong and beautiful the music was and what a rich, majestic voice the soloist had.

His English was heavily accented and I asked where he was from. He hesitantly answered "Iran" and I offered that his understanding of music, especially Western music, seemed extensive. "I am a musician," he responded simply. That lead us to a discussion of his instrument of choice, the Persian setar. He explained a bit about Persian stringed instruments, the origins of the words to describe these strings, and urged me to visit YouTube to explore the sounds of the Persian oud, setar, and tar. I emerged from the taxi both far richer and more curious for the experience.

My lesson learned today is that engaging in conversation and truly listening can open the door to new and different worlds. My regret is that I did not note this patient musician's name. He deserves my thanks for sharing his passion for music and his culture.