Cello

My train of thought is difficult to understand, at times.

I had a Facebook friend request the other day from someone whom I vaguely remember who had a last name of someone else who I knew well in High School who had a sister with whom I played in a string quartet the summer after the summer we arrived in Chillicothe some forty something years ago. I was the lone male in the group and it was the only incident I can ever recall playing music for money.

When I was in the fourth grade the music teachers conspired to get as many of us as possible to learn an instrument other than those ever-annoying flutophones everyone was forced to play. A few of us were told that we had it in us to play a stringed instrument, so, following my logic at the time I calculated that the cello would be my best choice as I would not have to stand to play it. Never mind that I found out in later days that there are those who consider playing the cello one of the most difficult instruments to play in terms of being a physical challenge, I was going to be sitting down. Not like the kids in Japan who were pictured in a book who were standing and playing their violins. No sir. I was going to sit down and play the cello.

To say that it was an interesting choice is to understate the whole deal. My parents dutifully rented a 3/4 size cello and designated a storage spot at the bottom of the stairs. For the next couple of years, at least, there was a battle of wills in our house. My parents insisted that I practice half an hour a day and I got my revenge by driving them mad with my inexperience.

But I got rather good at playing the darn thing. We were blessed by a city school system which encouraged students in the string program. The teaching was top-notch and there were other kids in the program who were just as good if not better than I was in certain aspects. I found myself selected to participate in an all-district orchestra as a sixth grader. Not bad, really. There were others from my school who were in that orchestra and there were new people to meet, like the girl who sat next to me in the cello section. It wasn't until after the concert that I learned that the girl's father was a professional football player of note and it wasn't but a few months later that I would be in posession of the cello she played. The other football crazy kids in the neighborhood were perplexed as to why, when I had access to Lou Groza and played in an orchestra with his daughter, I didn't get even as much as an autograph.

Playing the cello, you see, was a nerdy thing to do, even before the term "nerd" ever reached our lexicon.

Still, I kept at it, partly because of my parents and partly because of some of the kids who were in orchestra when I entered Junior High School. Debbie, who played the violin, became one of my first girlfriends... sort of took her to the 7th grade dance and had, for quite some time, a photo of my first "slow dance" with an actual female of the opposite gender. Then there was Eric, one of my best friends in the whole world who played the piano and the violin. He lived close enough so that I could spend afternoons with him in his basement learning to read music and turning pages for him as he played the piano. Those were delicious days.

I got a private teacher, too. The woman was busy and had such a reputation that if one was a cello student, she was the person one would really, really want to give you private lessons. I came to appreciate her. There would be contests, and I would go to the contests and consistantly rank as being one of the best. Eric was eventually drafted to play the cello, too, when we were in the 8th grade. When my family was being moved from Berea to Chillicothe, my slot with Mrs. Hiller opened up, quite briefly, because I gave Eric the "heads up" which was taken advantage of.

We moved to Chillicothe and there was a huge difference in the string program. The city's orchestra director, Bev Bolen, quickly assesed what was being thrown in her lap and had me participating in a contest with the High School kids less than 2 weeks after we had moved in. I took a lot of ribbing from the older kids in the bus, but at the same time I was forging ties with a number of people who would duck in and out of my life for several years. The girls with whom I played in the string quartet were among those on that dreary bus ride.

I continued to play through most of High School and had a good time (at times) with some of the other people I played with. I was frustrated with Doug Reeder - Doug had "perfect pitch" and I was admittedly (at least as an adult) jealous of his talent. Beth Stevenson sat behind me in the cello section and we would drive Mrs. Bolen crazy with the little "embellishments" we would add to our instruments in practice and in concert. She tied a ribbon around her cello's peg box and I had a plastic goat which resided in my cello's peg box. Twenty twenty hindsight says I should have dated the girl. Then there was Mike who played the bass. Mike seemed bored with the whole thing and gave the impression that he was bound for something better.

I eventually drifted out of playing the cello as I progressed through High School. By the time I became a teenaged vampire (as recounted in an earlier blog), the cello was for all intents and purposes a thing of the past. Sure, I got laughs by being the jokester playing the cello and tossing out one-liners for our High School Review for a couple of years, but I was essentially out of the game. We'd had a good run, but I had other interests, interests which would hopefully make me less nerdy.

I kept up with some of those with whom I was associated for a number of years afterwards. For a couple of years after High School, I wrote to and occasionally went to visit Debbie when she was home from College. I particularly recall one letter where she told me about this fellow who lived in her dormitory, a cello player who had gained some noteriety with his skills and who would be asked to play with various orchestras on the East Coast. It was because of his constant back and forth that this Asian fellow who was attending Harvard earned the nickname Yo Yo... a name which sticks with him today.

Beth went to become a nurse, I believe. Ran into her when she was visiting Chillicothe some years ago. I believe that she and her family were living in California.

Mike did go on to something better. After High School, he went on to the Eastman School of Music in Rochester, New York as did my friend, Eric. Yes, they met and yes, they probably swapped stories about me. Mike swore at one point that he would never come to Chillicothe again and as far as I know he never did. He passed at an early age of what was at the time was an unknown malady... I would suspect AIDS.

I met with Eric about 4 years ago. The fellow with whom I shared hours of time learning music was, and is, still teaching. He credited me with being a co-composer of his first composition of which there are many. He teaches composition at a school in New York called Julliard and has had his compositions played by groups and orchestras around the world. Not bad for a cello player.

Son Stuart attempted to try to learn the cello about 3 years ago, but without dad in the household (the divorce was pending at the time) the effort was an exercise in frustration for him.

As for me, dropping the cello was one of those things I have come to regret in later life. I will go with the step-son from time to time to the music store and have toyed with the idea of renting a cello and learning the skill all over again. Somewhere in there is the possibility of a PBS reality show - middle-aged man drops everything for an intense training course in order to play with a professional orchestra. Sounds interesting, has a lot of class which should appeal to the PBS crowd... besides, I've played professionally once before. Can't miss.

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