What Music Can Do

2020 was the year without music. There was nothing. It began with all the normal rehearsals and plans, and then in March everything shut down for the pandemic, we returned our rental parts to the orchestra librarian, and closed our cases. I did, anyway. I was encouraged at first by the idea that I suddenly had time to practice whatever I wanted, but it turned out without anyone to play with or for, practicing was painful.

I wanted to want to play, and much to my surprise, that didn't happen. My viola stayed in the case. My mandola sat in the corner.

It's the only Christmas season I can remember since I first picked up a violin in third grade that I didn't have concerts to play.

2021 decided to make up for that.

Musicians and organizations adapted to Covid. In our orchestra there was a mask requirement and distancing, and nobody shared a stand anymore. Concerts started requiring proof of vaccination for both audience and players.

It's weird playing viola in a mask for reasons I'm still not clear about, but I find myself doing an uncomfortable shift between my progressive lenses and trying to keep both the conductor and my music in my sight line while not fogging up. I've reached a point where I prefer having my stand to myself. I've gotten clever with the copy machine to manage the solo page turns, and I like having the fingerings I use in the part (instead of the outside player's). 

The mandolin orchestra was slower to adopt a mask requirement, but once they did I went back to playing with them as well.

I also joined a newly formed group this year called the Black Diaspora Symphony Orchestra which is open to anyone who wants to promote and perform works by a more inclusive list of composers.

This meant in November and early December, my rehearsal and concert schedule became nearly overwhelming. The BDSO is an amateur group, very new and small, and meets on Sundays. The MMO is an amateur group, the oldest mandolin group in the country and a decent size, and they meet on Mondays. Festival City Symphony is a professional civic group, and they meet on Tuesdays and some Wednesdays. I had to turn down the chance to play the Messiah this season because there were too many conflicts with other groups, and I opted out of a children's concert with FCS to do a different one with the MMO. One week I met with the mandolin orchestra for either concerts or rehearsals six times in five days. That's a lot to manage while also running your own business and caring for a family. I went back to work after most evening rehearsals and wouldn't get to bed until after midnight.

I'm enjoying the holiday break. But what a difference it is to have something to take a break from. My viola staying in its case this week feels like a well earned rest, not the sad surrender to ennui it was last year at this time.

Playing music is work and fun, a challenge and a release, a responsibility and a privilege, and addresses both history and an immediate need. This season I've had the chance to reflect on all of this, along with the many things music can do.

The music this season with FCS so far has been hard. There is no way around having to put in the time to play certain passages correctly, so I spent many hours of work sorting out bowings and fingerings and trying to get them under my fingers reliably. But there is a real satisfaction to performing great music at the highest level you are able. With that orchestra, the goal is to create something as perfectly and beautifully as we can. There is always at least one work from the traditional canon, and we know what those pieces are supposed to be.

When it's going right, performing with that group is glorious and thrilling. It feels like everything my training in college was preparing me to do. When things go off the rails at that level of performance, it's disorienting, and cuts you at the core. We strive for perfection, and hope we do well enough.

The Milwaukee Mandolin Orchestra goals feel different. Of course everyone does their best to play well and everyone wants to sound good--that's simply part of being a musician. But members of amateur groups are there because they love it (by definition, since "amateur" means to love what you do), and that's the prime requirement.

I'm glad when I'm paid for what I do, but there can be something called "over-justification effect" when that happens. I've had stretches where I forget to appreciate how lucky I am to make music because it simply becomes work. Especially if you are playing pieces you don't particularly care for, or in venues or with people you don't enjoy. There are times when music is just a job.

In an amateur group, that's not an issue. You can still get tied into responsibilities that aren't your favorite, but you can always choose to leave. That's different from music where you're under contract to play and perform. Amateur groups are often capable of really beautiful and exciting performances, but the pressure to do that is internally motivated alone. I've played in professional groups where the conductor was at times unkind or downright mean. The director of an amateur group can't risk such behavior, because everyone would walk. The trick is not to push people, but make them want to push themselves.

There is a lot of charm playing with the mandolin orchestra. It can be a big time commitment, but it's fun.

Whether the balance is tipped toward either work or fun, concentrating on music can be incredibly therapeutic. It takes a level of focus that rescues your mind from other thoughts. It's the closest thing I have to meditation, which may seem odd since it's an active state, but it clears away all other things.

A few years ago, I was living through an extended crisis at home that crippled me emotionally, and sometimes physically. I remember opting out of mandolin orchestra several times simply because I was exhausted and didn't think I could spare the energy or the time. But then I decided being out of the house one night was preferable to being in it, and I went to a rehearsal, and it was magic. Like when you have a migraine, and then at some point you realize it's gone and you feel normal again. I got all the way to the end of the mandolin rehearsal before it occurred to me that I hadn't thought of my problems even once the whole night. Music made things better for a little while.

Music improves anything tedious. It makes me smile when our family is on a long drive, and I see my husband tap softly on the wheel in time to whatever music is in his earbuds. It makes cleaning chores more entertaining. I've been playing a lot of Beat Saber recently, and at one point I had to play it without the music and the game was much harder and less enjoyable. Music can rescue my mood if the news gets to be too depressing. I think often about how in a film class we were taught the music in a movie means silence, and silence means something else.

How lucky we are to have music available even when there are no musicians around to play for us. People don't appreciate that enough.

The last concert I played this season was for Black Diaspora. That was a very different kind of experience than anything else I was asked to play this year. FCS is a form of expression and entertainment that is regarded in a serious manner. MMO is at its center more playful. BDSO is organized around a mission, and this first concert was in memory of children who died in the past year. It was more like a prayer than anything else. 

The level of experience for that concert was incredibly varied, from people with decades of experience to recent high school grads. It wasn't going to be a musically perfect concert, but it didn't need to be. What it needed to be was sincere and meaningful, and it accomplished that just fine. BDSO was hard to add into my schedule, but felt the most necessary.

Especially after getting teargassed with several of those same players in Kenosha last year. When I said there was no music to play in 2020, that wasn't quite true. There were no official concerts; there were opportunities to play as part of protests. I think back often about standing in front of the Kenosha courthouse on the second night of demonstrations, and how everything was peaceful until the police decided to come at everyone in riot gear. I'm still amazed how disproportionate the response was to what was happening. And I take pride in trying to stand up for what I think is important using my viola as my voice.

The somber setting in the church (where no one was supposed to applaud between numbers so as not to disrupt the contemplation of the audience) was the opposite of that chaotic experience, but connected in important ways. Music can do things nothing else can.

I don't think I will ever forget the night of our dress rehearsal, when we moved up from the basement space where we'd be rehearsing to the main worship space in the church. We were working on the balance for Aase's Death by Grieg, and I was concerned about the intonation, and coordinating certain phrases across the different parts. I was worried it wouldn't be ready. But then a woman associated with the group's mission came up to us to say that she'd lost her son to an overdose, and that our music captured her thoughts about his dying alone better than any words ever could. What we'd created had brought her to tears. It spoke to her without it being perfect. What we were offering was enough. That was incredibly powerful to be a part of.

The other musical thing I've been thinking about this holiday season is the new Beatles documentary. To say my dad was obsessed with the Beatles doesn't quite capture his level of interest. The first time I really saw him cry was when John Lennon was shot. Their music meant something profound to him, and to many.

My interest in the band doesn't run nearly so deep, but I know my dad would have watched the hell out of that documentary if he were still around. I felt I should watch it in his memory. My daughter agreed to watch it with me while she's home over college break. She really doesn't have any attachment to the Beatles, so I had to explain things as it went along. But even for someone coming in with no knowledge, it's fascinating to watch people in the midst of artistic creation.

For me, the astonishing thing was to be able to watch someone like Paul McCartney experimenting with the chords to something like "Let it Be" and for me to know what it was before he did on the screen. No one in the room at the time had any idea where that would go, no one seemed particularly interested, and there I was on my couch getting goosebumps because I knew all the words. I told Aden you could go nearly anywhere in the world, and you'll find people who can sing that song.

I watched the beginning with Aden, and then we stayed up very late the last night we were in Detroit for Christmas with my mom so she could watch to the end. I'm sure it's not for everyone, but I found it fascinating. I would have so loved to have heard my dad's commentary. Aden and I even watched the Carpool Karaoke clip on YouTube of McCartney touring around his old neighborhood and singing his songs for crowds. It was moving to see how many people in the streets were excited to see him, and wanted him to know his music had been part of their lives. As McCartney was trying to return to his car one man wanted him to know that they played one of his songs at his father's funeral. His music has been the soundtrack to many lives. That makes me tear up.

Music cuts across time greater than anything else I know. Listening to the Beatles feels like having my dad back with me for a moment. Playing Mendelssohn on stage brings the thoughts in his mind back to life for that bit of time. Performing Tin Pan Alley tunes with the mandolin orchestra I'm sure creates the same camaraderie now that it did when our group had all different members a century ago. Playing music to help people heal is as important as its ever been.

I don't know what 2022 will hold in store in terms of getting to perform, but I'm up for whatever I get to be a part of. I don't want to be without music again.

I hope whatever brings you peace and joy abounds in the new year.

Time for Music

I got to play an orchestra rehearsal last week. I get to do it again this week. The weight of what all of this means to me is something I'm still processing, because sometimes you truly don't know how important something is until it's gone.

For most of my life, my schedule has been organized around rehearsals, concert dates, and making time to practice. I've had to delay family Christmas plans to perform at a midnight mass at the basilica. Options for my kids' spring breaks were impacted by if I had a dress rehearsal that week. In college, orchestra was graded entirely by attendance, and if you missed one of the daily rehearsals, you went down one full letter grade. Since moving to Milwaukee, Tuesday nights have been completely blocked off in my mind as rehearsal nights, and before I can commit to anything else on a Tuesday, I have to check my orchestra schedule.

Then the pandemic hit, and in March of 2020 everything came to a halt. Concerts were canceled. Rehearsals stopped.

Intellectually, I knew that continuing to practice was the correct and healthy choice. I tried at first. I pulled out pieces I knew would be fun and interesting to play. There was lots of time suddenly available to hone my skills in a thoughtful way that normally doesn't happen. But....

Creativity takes energy. In the early days of Covid, all my energy was spent elsewhere. Worry, survival, adaptation, grief... All of it saps energy. And knowing what you should do, doesn't always mean you can.

My viola stayed in the case. I wanted to play. Or more aptly put, I wanted to want to play, but the lack of anyone to play with or for killed my motivation in a way that surprised me.

The important exception was in the middle of summer when I was invited on a couple of occasions to perform along with the Black String Triage Ensemble. They perform protest concerts in response to violence against people of color in our city. The group was organized by a former student of mine, and he asked if I wanted to join them to play black spirituals at various locations to draw attention to racial injustice. One of those locations was in front of the courthouse in Kenosha during the second night of the protest marches there.

Music has meaning, and music has power. Enough power that we had to be forced to stop making music in Kenosha with teargas, apparently. But if I only got to play one concert in 2020, I'm glad it was that one. It was a clear reminder of what matters and how music can help.

Playing music with others, for others, draws on the finest elements of what it is to be human. We create something bigger than ourselves, something more beautiful than we could do alone. Something built from small moments of practice piled one upon the other to eventually create something grand and moving when everything aligns properly. It's a strangely momentous thing to come to take for granted, but when most of your life is built around a schedule of rehearsals, and concert dates--to the point that you consider them ordinary--you can forget.

While orchestras across the country and the world shut down for the year, Festival City Symphony found a way to forge ahead. The spread and death toll of Covid in our state made me too nervous to participate in the first two concerts of the season, and I asked not to be included on the roster. That was painful to do, partially because I deeply missed playing, and partially from guilt that so many other musicians were desperate for the same opportunity I was passing up. But after watching the FCS holiday show online, I was encouraged by the number of safety protocols. I agreed to play the first concert in 2021. I fully intended to back out if when I showed up to the first rehearsal it didn't feel safe.

Everyone was masked, including wind and brass players who had to have special masks with an opening to use when they needed to play, and covers over the ends of their instruments. Everyone had their own stand and was set far apart. The stands were tagged with people's names, and no one was allowed to touch anyone else's stand or music. The ventilation in the room was good enough that the air was completely replaced in it three times an hour. All foot traffic in the building had to move counterclockwise to help people maintain distance. We had to present a signed form upon arrival stating we did not have Covid symptoms or had been knowingly exposed recently. They took our temperature before we could proceed into the building. The length of the rehearsal was kept short, and there was no break when people would normally mingle. The concert itself will have no intermission and will finish in under an hour. There will be a cap of 150 audience members, masked, and in assigned seats set apart from other parties, with no seating in the first couple of rows closest to the orchestra. My family will watch with the virtual option.

So as much as you can mitigate risk for an orchestra to play together, I think they've managed it. I'm still nervous, but do not feel unsafe. And I am incredibly grateful to have a reason to open my viola case again.

However, the physical task of playing after so much time caught me off guard. It's work. Actual physical work that you need to train muscles to do. I don't think most people realize that. Simply holding up your arms for hours takes strength. In fact, when I was in college, there were guys in my dorm who thought it was impressive that I could hold my own in an arm wrestling match if I used my left arm. I haven't used those particular muscles in a while, and when I started practicing again I was really sore.

It's also weirdly cumbersome to play with a mask on. I wouldn't have guessed that, but it's somehow harder to see the way you need to, glancing past your instrument to the music and up at the conductor regularly. I'm not sure exactly what about the mask is in the way, it just is, so that will take getting used to as well.

I've been working my way back up to playing for longer stretches, and with a mask on sometimes, so that I'll be prepared for the concert. Plus I had to follow all the advice I give everyone else who comes through my shop, and gave my own viola a checkup and actually rehaired my bow and changed my strings. It made a big difference.

It will be a good show! If you want to watch it, the information is here. We'll be playing Holst's Brook Green Suite, Schubert's Fifth Symphony, and Frank Almond will be the soloist for The Lark Ascending by Vaughan Williams.

It's strange playing in a mask. It's odd not to have a stand partner. But the camaraderie is still there, even at a distance. And making music is magic. At one point last week in my first real rehearsal in almost a year, I became choked up with how beautiful and amazing it all was for people to work together and bring the air to life with history and sound and meaning. I've missed it. More than I realized.

Creative Hours

I belong to a few different online groups for writers. They are filled with helpful, supportive people and are good places to ask questions, bounce around ideas, and occasionally simply vent or share success stories.

A few months ago, a writer in one of the groups was musing about how there was a book she really wanted to buy by a writer she really liked, but the price was five dollars, rather than the usual one dollar she'd become accustomed to through online promotions. She regretted that she couldn't get past the price tag and I think was looking to commiserate.

Honestly, this shocked me, along with many other writers in the group. Not because we don't know people are generally cheap and don't want to pay more for things than they have to, but because she was a fellow writer. She knows how much time and effort it takes to publish a book.

Five dollars? Five dollars is nothing compared to the hours upon hours spent creating characters and story lines and editing and editing again and suffering as your test readers have your manuscript and you have to wait an eternity wondering if your work is garbage or not. There is the struggle for the right cover design and chasing typos and formatting issues. And then there are the elusive bursts of inspiration that you have to harness while you can in order to turn them into a story worth reading. The core of what you do is dependent on something you can't even predict or rely on. It's hard. Writing is hard. (Super fun when it's going well, but still...) A fellow writer should more than understand why a book might be five dollars.

Rare and Beautiful Things (VSA 2017)

Amati violin at the Smithsonian

I made a hastily arranged trip to DC recently in order to attend part of a VSA (Violin Society of America) convention.  It's an off year (meaning there was no makers' competition which is a much bigger event and lasts a whole week) and I wasn't planning on going, but I won a lottery for a special pre-convention tour that was too good to miss.

Thankfully I have friends in the area who were willing to put me up and drive me around which made the trip even feasible.  (They also own one of my violins so I was able to at least offer some instrument maintenance in exchange--Although I have to say I found doing bench work at a kitchen table to be surprisingly disorienting when I'm used to being surrounded by all the tools and light I need.)

The pre-convention tour, that was only available to a smaller group than would attend the full convention, included a trip to the Library of Congress in the morning, and the Smithsonian in the afternoon.  Both places have an impressive collection of rare instruments, including some of the most famous that Stradivari ever built.  I had the opportunity to study and play the collection in the Library of Congress many years ago, but have never seen the ones in the Smithsonian other than in photos.

Getting Older

Getting older is weird.  Because I don't feel old, really, I just feel like me.  In my mind my college experience wasn't that long ago, but it really was.  My high school just had a 30 year reunion.  I remember my high school self, so that doesn't seem distant, but the numbers don't lie.

I think about how when I was in elementary school I couldn't understand why people referred to kids in high school as "kids" since they sure looked like adults to me.  Now even college kids seem very young.  And what used to sound "old" doesn't seem all that old now.  When I was a kid, 50 sounded very old.  Today I have trouble seeing 60 as particularly old, but that's getting into retirement age for many so I guess I have to accept that fact.  I think about how my grandfather was 70 when he died, and that seemed okay at the time because he was an old man, but now I find it shocking he died so young.

The really sobering markers of aging aren't the ones I was expecting.  It's the odd bits of change and history that slowly slip by rendering all your memories out of step.  Realizing news events from my childhood that resonated with me are completely unfamiliar to many of the people I talk to on a daily basis is disconcerting.  I have to explain to my kids things like the eruption of Mt St Helens or the Iran hostage crisis or the Challenger explosion.  Those are peripheral tidbits that don't necessarily come up in school.  But they sound as ancient to them as my dad talking about seeing the Beatles at Shea Stadium or people describing when Kennedy was shot did to me.

Summer Update

Summer seems to be racing by faster than usual this year.  We're making the most of it, though!  Compared to the trauma of last summer almost anything would be a welcome break this time around, but even with the vacation bar set low I feel we're helping make some great memories for our kids.

To me the essence of summer vacation is being unscheduled, getting outside, having time to do projects purely for fun, a cookout, reading for hours on end, bare feet, watching movies/TV way too late into the night, and a road trip.  By those measures it's been a quintessential summer break, and there's still some left, so life is good.

After our trip to Washington D.C. we had a few days at home together, and then Ian took the kids off to the cottage.  I had to stay behind in Milwaukee to work, but I loved that my kids got to meet up with their cousin in Michigan and just be at the lake.  My mom and my brother were there, too, and Ian emailed me reports of much swimming and fishing and cookie baking.

It's weird living in our house with just the dog.  I kept Chipper with me because I needed the company, but he was so sad.  He kept wandering into the kids' rooms to look forlornly at their empty beds.  After a couple of days he begged to go out the back door (which is odd--he's the only dog I know who hides when you offer to walk him), then begged to go into the garage, then begged to get into the car (another thing he doesn't like), and then he climbed into the backseat and wouldn't leave.  I think he wanted me to drive him to wherever the kids were.  I left the doors open to everything for over an hour in the hopes he'd come back in the house, but eventually I drove him around the neighborhood a bit and when we returned home he bounded inside.  I think he believed some kind of magic would have happened and everyone would be back again on our return, but when he got in the house everything about him just drooped in disappointment.


The opposite of the depressed dog was when I got him out of the kennel on the ferry.  I managed to get away to join everyone at the cottage for a weekend, and the only convenient way to do that is to take the high speed ferry across Lake Michigan.  I've never taken the dog on the ferry before, but they have a kennel down with the cars and attendants make sure the dogs get water and treats.  I thought the dog was going to wag us both to death when I got him out of there, and his joy at being reunited with the kids again was something to behold.






The cottage remains wonderful.  Mona caught many frogs this year.  Quinn caught many fish.  We played badminton on the beach.  The kids swam at The Point, and crossed the island on the other side to use the rope swing there at the other sandy spot they have dubbed The Pointless.  We ate literally pounds of blueberries from a local farm.  There was Monopoly and Boggle and we stayed up very late to watch both Spirited Away and Howl's Moving Castle.  I got to help everyone do tie dying, and Aden was finally successful in making a real spiral pattern on a shirt the way she always wanted.

Mommy's Sweatshop: Music Tree Edition

We got a late start on anything Christmas because Thanksgiving ran long and birthday season ran late this year.  But I think I have all the presents ready, sort of.  (I just bought a sweater that I can't decide whether to give to Ian or  keep for myself and tell him it's from him.  We don't normally get each other anything, but it was a really nice men's sweater marked way way down so I couldn't resist.  Maybe he won't like it and he'll just give it back to me?  Anyway...)


Despite a more packed schedule than usual (I played a performance of the complete Messiah in a town more than half an hour south of here and those three-hour rehearsals plus commute on top of my normally packed schedule about did me in) we did manage to make our holiday cards and get them out on time!  Unfortunately Mona was knocked flat with a fever for several days and Aden's been playing catch up on homework, so Quinn was my lone helper in Mommy's Sweatshop.

We painted cards with watercolors, then glued trees cut from music paper to them.  Mona was delighted when she saw the finished cards and said, "Ooh, it's like the notes are ornaments!"  Which is exactly what I was going for, so that made me happy.

Heart of Life

I was recently asked to submit a quote for an article on a site called MusciansFriend.com.  They were working on a piece for Veteran's Day about music and military families.  It's a nice article, and there is a cute picture of me and Ian there so you should go look!

They only used a couple of parts of the piece I wrote (at the very beginning and again at the end), so I'm putting the whole original thing here.  (And in case you don't know the song I'm referring to, I'll post a clip at the end.)

Heart of Life, by Korinthia Klein

Double Dad Day

I got to spend Father's Day with both my husband and my dad this year.  I don't know if that's ever happened before.  My dad's been staying with us for the past couple of weeks while my mom has been on a trip.  He worries that he's a burden since he needs help getting around and we have to keep track of his medication, etc., but he's not a burden; he's my dad.

I feel bad that I haven't been able to get him out to a bookstore yet like he wanted, but the only day I had free from work the weather made it too complicated.  (Dealing with a walker and an umbrella while trying to cope with parking on the East Side was more than I felt I could handle.)  Other than that it's been a good visit with lots of Scrabble playing.

The highlight for me was having both Ian and dad at my concert on Sunday.  I play so many concerts I know my dad would enjoy that he can't be here for, and from my end there's nothing like having someone you love in the audience.  This weekend the Milwaukee Mandolin Orchestra had a Father's Day concert in a beautiful church up near the university.  The building had real Tiffany stained glass windows and the acoustics were amazing--no need for mics which was great.

The first half of the concert was our artistic director, Rene Izquierdo, on solo guitar, which is always wonderful, and the second half was the orchestra.  We did a nice assortment of tunes, from Classical pieces to Irish songs to Tin Pan Alley standbys....  It wasn't perfect, but parts of it were better than we've ever sounded, and I was so happy my dad could be there.

When I went to meet him at the end of our performance he told me he was so proud, and he got a little weepy, which meant it took a lot to keep myself from getting weepy.  It was about as good a Father's Day moment as one could ask for.

But what I think of as an important Father's Day moment for Ian actually happened a couple of months ago.

Someone in the Audience

My stage view at sound check

I had a concert this afternoon.  The orchestra I play with is called Festival City Symphony, and we perform in the beautiful Pabst concert hall.  The weather wasn't great so attendance was a bit lower than usual.

But my husband and son were there.

It can't be overstated how nice it is to have people you know in the audience when you are onstage.  I'm just a section viola player, but when there is someone specific to play for it almost feels like getting to play a solo.  I become self-conscious in a good way.  I'm proud of what I get to do, and I love knowing I'm sharing that with someone who matters to me.

A Pianist in the House

Quinn started piano lessons the first week of February.

I have been offering him the chance to take lessons on either piano or a violin family instrument since he was two.  (I know two sounds unrealistic, but in Quinn's case if he'd been interested I have no doubt he would have been just fine.  He's always been a serious, focused kind of child.)

I don't believe in forcing children into music.  I think everyone should have a certain amount of education in it in order to appreciate it better, but playing an instrument is hard and without an internal passion to want to pursue it the result is joyless, so what would be the point?  I let Aden beg me for a year to take violin before I finally pulled one off the shelf at the violin store for her and got her a teacher.  (And no, I don't teach her myself because that is fraught with danger, plus I think a relationship with a music teacher is special and I don't want to deprive her of that.)  Mona started violin because Aden plays violin, which isn't the ideal motivation, however there's nothing wrong with it either.  They both enjoy it, and though Quinn has happily sat in my lap to watch them practice, he never expressed any interest in trying it himself.

But then came the report card.  A few categories marked less than perfect and Quinn was on a mission.  We conquered shapes and we conquered oceans because the boy likes to check things off a list.  Then he wanted to conquer music.

Memorable Music

It's been an exhausting couple of weeks with Ian away doing Army things, but he should be home tonight.  (And then I will hug him and kiss him and smile and then run away to where nobody wants anything from me for an hour or more).

For the most part it's all been pretty good.  I like being in charge of the house and spending so much time with my kids and picking them up from school, etc.  This past week we also have had two extra kids sleeping over to help out a friend in the National Guard who had her own assignment out of town.

I've learned that five kids is more than three kids.  It's like leading around a field trip all the time.  And the amount of food five kids consume is impressive.  I'm feeling stretched pretty thin between all the responsibilities at work and with the dog plus managing five kids' worth of meals and activities and homework and just general mood control.  I mentioned Ian's coming home, right?  I've paced myself well, but wonder again how I did single parenting alone for a couple of years.  Even when everything goes without a hitch it's not easy.

Despite the busy schedule, though, I got to squeeze in something wonderful.  I found out right after Ian left that Itzhak Perlman was going to do a single performance with the Milwaukee Symphony Orchestra.  My memories of Itzhak Perlman go back to Sesame Street.  I have heard him play on television and in recordings numerous times, but never live, and he was going to be performing the glorious Beethoven Violin Concerto in D.  In the first half of the program the orchestra was going to be playing Beethoven's 5th Symphony.  If there was ever a perfect concert to take a young violinist to, this was it, and all I could think was how wonderful it would be to go with Aden.  She's eleven, and is somewhere in the middle of Suzuki Violin Book 2.  I couldn't think of anyone else in the world better to go with.

Real Music

I got to do something last night that should not be as rare as it is.  I got to play real music.

"But you're a musician!" my astute readers are thinking.  "You play music every day!"

Why yes, yes I do.  But life gets busy with three kids and a dog and a business to run, and when you are a trained musician with little time to spare it's hard to find time to play simply for the joy of it.  There are concerts to prepare for that require practice deadlines for pieces you don't choose.  There are paid gigs using music you could play in your sleep (and sometimes do).  Being paid to play is not a bad thing by any means, but it's different.  It's wrapped up in responsibility and preparation and scheduling and occasionally uncomfortable shoes.  It's work.  Enjoyable work most of the time, but work.

Moments of real music, where I remember why I play to begin with, don't happen for me often enough.

You Never Know (Babble)

You never know the impact you have in the world.  Occasionally people come to us later and we find out how something we said stuck and I’m always surprised at what did.  I think we accidentally hurt others more often than we realize.  But sometimes we help or inspire and can be just as oblivious of that, too.

I’ve been teaching violin for many years.  At my peak I had a studio of about 40 students which wore me out.  Currently I only have one, but with three kids and a store and more things to juggle than I can handle most days, she sometimes wears me out too.  I like getting to know other people and I like music and I like passing on things I’ve learned.

For many students I think I was a pretty good teacher.  For some I know I wasn’t right but hope I did okay.  And then there are a few I still wonder about with no sense of how I did at all.  When one of those pops up again it kind of rocks my world.

(window at the conservatory I teach for)


Being a music teacher often feels like being a counselor.  Part of that is simply having one on one time with a student apart from parents and friends.  Students confide because they want to and they can.  Sometimes it’s merely practical to listen and talk because lesson time is valuable and if a student is preoccupied with an emotional issue it’s hard to get any real work done until they get it out.  I know when I was in college I couldn’t play two notes on my viola without my teacher being able to diagnose my emotional state.  Music is expressive, and I was unable to separate my feelings from my playing.  I would start to dive into Bach or Telemann and the next thing I knew my teacher was saying, “Oh no, why are you so sad today?”  Then I would talk, and he would listen and nod, and eventually we’d get some real work accomplished.

I’ve been a sounding board for kids who are upset about dating troubles or their parents fighting or problems with siblings or school or who are freaked out about the future.  I listen, I nod, I try not to overstep my bounds, and I get them to clear their heads enough to concentrate on music before our time is up.

Most people in a position to take violin lessons come from fairly stable situations and their troubles when they crop up are things I can relate to.  But I’ve had some students with hard lives and problems I don’t always know how to address.  I tell them what I can, hope it has any bearing, and worry that in my efforts to help I’m not inadvertently being insensitive or making things worse.  You never know.

Recently a student I hadn’t seen in more than a decade resurfaced.  This was a student I have thought on and off about for years.  I’d never had a student who had been bounced around to more foster homes, and I was worried that this person when released from the system would lack direction and end up with a bad crowd.  I was honestly concerned that this student could be taken advantage of and wind up dead.  So when this person appeared in my violin store I was relieved, to say the least.

I never knew if anything I did in violin lessons had an impact on this student.  This person’s life was complicated, and I was never sure where violin fit in.  I played it by ear (so to speak) and did what I could and hoped for the best.  But now I know my presence in this person’s life did matter, even if at the time I wasn’t sure.  When you make assignments and they are ignored week after week, and someone doesn’t follow your instructions or is distracted when you try to explain something, it can feel like talking to a wall.

However, I think being there, being consistent, not letting down my expectations or giving in to ways this student pushed me, made an impact.  I was there at a time as other people came and went.  And not only did this student remember me, but retained a love for violin.

This person came by just to say hello, but I had learned a few days before from a fellow teacher who taught this person with me that our former student, due to difficult circumstances, no longer had an instrument.  So I fixed that.

Every once in a while I’ll get a donated instrument that should go to someone special.  I’ve had a particular violin hanging behind my bench for some time waiting for the right person.  I decided my former student would be a good match.  It’s not a valuable instrument from a market point of view, but it was dearly loved, and will now be treasured again.

My former student is still on a hard road, but doesn’t act like it.  This person is trying to address life and the world with a sensitivity that I find humbling.  Now this person can do it armed with a violin.  I watched my former student leave, smiling, cradling that violin as if it were the key to something grand and hopeful.  Which is exactly what music is.
With a little luck some of those lessons I taught all those years ago will go to good use.  That makes me happy, and it makes me proud.

'Tis the Season (For Some Wonderful Music) (Babble)

Look where I got to perform this weekend:

(In the light of the morning rehearsal)

(At the end of the midnight mass)
I was asked by a friend if I would play the midnight mass on Christmas Eve at the Basilica of St Josaphat here in Milwaukee.  It’s only about a mile from our house, and I knew the kids would be done opening presents long before I had to go back to play the mass again on Christmas morning, so I agreed to the gig.  The place is simply beautiful.



What a wonderful experience to play with talented musicians in such a setting.  The orchestra was up in the choir loft with the singers and organ, which is nice because you can concentrate on the music without feeling like you are on display.

When we’d finish a piece on a big chord of strings and trumpets and timpani the sound would reverberate for at least another full bar afterward.  It was amazing, and I wish my family could have been there.  My parents in particular would have loved it.

In some ways performing music is just a job that involves parking and lugging things around and concentration and just plain work, but what marvelous work!  (Although for the choir director/organist who has to lead everyone and also play music with his feet, I think it was less marvelous and just plain work.  But I’m a viola player!  I play my part when I’m supposed to and Sudoku the rest of the time.)  Christmas Eve is a magical night to get to make great music, even for those of us who don’t claim the holiday in a religious sense.

The line between the personal and the sacred is an issue I think about a lot during this season.

I believe each of us is tasked with deciding for ourselves what is meaningful and right and true in this life.  Even if you subscribe to a particular religion, you have to weigh all the information you are provided from many sources and use your own judgment about how to interpret all of it.  Each of us has to come to peace with what we think our place is in the universe on our own no matter what markers we choose to guide us.

Are there really people who get worked up about others using more inclusive phrases like ‘happy holidays’ this time of year?  I wonder about people who would be so insecure in their own belief systems that they find offense where none was intended.  I had people wishing me Merry Christmas at my store the whole week of Hanukkah and I appreciated it, even though it didn’t make a lot of sense.  It was meant with good will and I accepted it in that light.  I’m mystified by people who are supposedly upset by the phrase ‘happy holidays’ because when I was growing up it was shorthand for Christmas and New Year’s and they could simply take it in that light if it suits them.  But it’s a handy term to use when you don’t know what people believe, and that’s respectful in my opinion.  No one should be using the phrase ‘Merry Christmas’ as a verbal weapon or a means to intimidate people.  How is that a reflection on what the season is supposed to be about?  Thankfully in my own community this does not seem to be the case and I think that whole controversy is constructed for TV ratings and not of concern to actual people.

I myself am not Christian, but I like having a tree and a tradition of gift giving.  It’s part of my heritage and it’s fun and it makes my kids happy.  My father’s side of the family is Jewish, my mother was raised Christian Science but her father was raised Catholic, my sister-in-law is from India….  There are lots of interesting traditions to draw from in our home if we wish.  I don’t see any point in fighting the tide of Christmas cheer at the end of December so we put up lights and hang stockings and enjoy it all, but it’s one of many possible choices.

So I may be neutral when it comes to a lot of things about this season, but the one place where I have a decided allegiance is with music.  This I have a strong opinion about.
There was a fascinating piece on 60 Minutes back when I was in college that I remember watching with my grandmother in her family room one evening.  The story was about a high school girl in Utah who planned to major in music as a singer so she needed to participate in her school’s choir, but the area being predominantly Mormon meant that most of the music they did had Christian themes.  She and her family sued.  She didn’t believe she should be coerced into worship of a faith that wasn’t hers in a public school in order to fulfill her educational needs.

I found this riveting.  Because on the one hand I don’t think it’s fair to force a single religion onto people in a publicly funded place.  If a government building puts up a nativity scene because a lot of people in the community want it, I think that’s okay, as long as they make room for things minorities in the community want as well, because that’s fair.  Christians should not get in a tizzy because someone else in the community wants a menorah there too, or an atheist manifesto, etc.  But people do get upset when they see things they hold sacred juxtaposed with things they do not, so I think in most communities it makes more sense to leave such displays to private individuals and institutions.  The majority needs to put themselves in other people’s shoes better.

But as much as I wanted to support the girl in Utah for being able to hold her own against the majority religion, from a musician’s point of view I can’t, for two reasons:
First, from a practical standpoint, she will starve.  No one asks me if I am a Catholic before I go perform in a Catholic church.  No one asks if I am Baptist or Muslim or Jewish.  They only ask if I can be there on time.  If I had to screen every couple who needed a string quartet for their wedding to make sure their beliefs matched my own before I could accept the gig, I would never get to play.  If you sing for money, chances are good you will be offered work in a church.  And unless there is some extreme circumstance that makes it impossible or too distasteful, you take it.  Because if people are willing to pay you to make music you should be appreciative.

Second, from a musical standpoint, she will be actively denying herself the opportunity to sing some of the greatest music ever written.  Both inspiration and funding have come from religious institutions over the centuries, so some of the best music people have created have religious themes.  I don’t care if you are Christian or not, if you can get a part in a production of The Messiah by Handel you take it.  It’s transcendent in its beauty.  I can’t tell you how many times I’ve performed the Hallelujah Chorus and it’s always a privilege and a thrill.  Would she really turn down the Mozart Requiem or a Bach Cantata due to Christian themes?  Insanity.  A musician on some level must be like an actor.  If actors only chose roles that specifically reflected their own personal beliefs then that’s not even acting.  The arts are more expansive than that.  There is beauty to appreciate in all cultures.  What a shallow, worthless life as a musician you would have if you cut yourself off from most of it.

I love traditional Christmas music.  I love The Holly And The Ivy, and Deck The Halls, and God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen, and Joy To The World, and Angels We Have Heard On High….  My favorite is Silent Night.  I may not be a Christian, but I am a musician, and I know sacred when I hear it.  I love playing this music.

I don’t know what ever became of the girl in that story.  I’d be curious to find out.  I hope she was able to find a career in music if it’s what she wanted.  But I hope if she’s still singing that maybe somewhere out there this season she’s not denied herself the chance to sing some really lovely music.

I wish all of you peace and joy this season, regardless of what you believe.  And I wish you whatever music makes you smile.

Report From String Camp (Babble)

I’ve been teaching at the Wisconsin Conservatory of Music for about fifteen years now.  When my husband and I first moved to Milwaukee so I could commute to violin making school, the Conservatory was a convenient place to start a new studio because it was within walking distance of our apartment.  The Conservatory is housed in a beautiful old mansion overlooking Lake Michigan and there are some truly fine musicians working there.  The recital hall is decorated with plaster roses on the walls and ceiling so it feels like having a concert in a wedding cake.  It’s a pretty place to work.

While helping put myself (and later Ian) through school, I had a lot of students.  When my husband got deployed the first time I had to cut back my studio quite a bit and teach the lessons at my home because getting out to the building was difficult.  When Ian returned I was able to take a job with the Milwaukee Youth Symphony for a couple of years teaching in a program for underprivileged kids and it was exhausting but I loved it.  With the second deployment I had to resign from that position and cut my teaching back to only a couple of students in music therapy whom I team teach with a colleague.  Currently I’m down to one student, and the annual Summer String Camp.  I miss doing more regular teaching, but since we opened the violin store there just isn’t time.  Maybe one day when my children are grown I will be able to fit it in again, but in the meantime opportunities for me to teach are rare.

String Camp is sort of like the crash course music event that keeps my teaching chops up.  It’s one week every summer where string players from small children through high school aged students gather and do chamber music.  Each teacher gets to coach a small ensemble, and there are two small orchestras, a group for beginners, and a fiddle camp.  One of the downsides to teaching private lessons is I don’t get to see the other string faculty that often, so it’s nice to work with other teachers at String Camp and see them in action.

I also do a demonstration about violin making for the kids to teach them facts about violins and get them to appreciate their instruments in new ways.  Every year at least one student sees all the wood and the tools and assumes they are going to get to build their very own violin in an hour, and I have to explain that no, it takes way longer than that to build a violin.  WAY longer (and please don’t touch those tools they are freakishly sharp).
Every year the kids are sweet, at least one instrument meets with catastrophe (this session I replaced someone’s endbutton on her violin after it blew apart, and adjusted a cello soundpost that had fallen over), some kid cries (I personally didn’t make anyone cry this year but I’m sure there have been tears somewhere), and I get extremely stressed before the concert.

Different teachers have different strengths, and I tend to be good at getting less experienced kids to focus long enough to put a piece together in time to perform in just a few days.  Once the head of the string department gave me an advanced group and I almost didn’t know what to do with them by the end of the week because they had actually practiced and they listened and I didn’t have to repeat myself all the time.  They were great and it was easy.  (The department head told me she thought I deserved a break for once, instead of freaking out about whether my group was going to be able to get through their tune on stage without falling to pieces.)

This year most of my kids were fine, but a couple were struggling, and I ended up having to rewrite parts of the Air to Don Giovanni to remove pesky things like rests and interesting notes or bowings.  (Mozart is dead, so I don’t think he’ll mind.  Besides, I think he’d prefer the edit to the whole thing getting botched on stage.)

I’m always amazed that it works out as well as it does.  The first day is spent simply figuring out seating and which piece to play.  Many young children aren’t good sight readers, so I end up having to teach them the music so we can even hear it, before deciding if it’s something we should keep working on or simply scrap.  The second day we try to get something to sound cohesive, even if it’s just the first line.  By the third day I am in a total panic when they can’t get to the end of the piece on their own without my standing over them clapping the beat and shouting out cues.  The fourth day miraculously things start to hold together.  The fifth day is the concert.  By the time my kids hit the stage I’ve usually bitten my nails down to nothing.  But they always do fine.

Today’s concert was great!  I was so pleased with my group.  They sounded a little better in rehearsal than they did during the performance, but several people told me how impressed they were at how well they played together and their overall sound.  I was very proud.

My own kids came to hear the concert, primarily because they know there are always cupcakes at the reception afterward.  Aden and Mona are old enough they could participate in String Camp if they wanted to.  Currently they just do private lessons and don’t have any group experience.  I was hoping that seeing other kids their age play such fun music in such a pretty environment they might be inspired to try it themselves next year.  I asked them if they’d be interested next summer.  Aden looked nervous about the idea, but Mona seemed game.  She mostly liked the idea of going to the Conservatory with me every day for a week.  I hope she decides to try it.  Some of my best memories as a kid are playing in a group like this one.

But for this year, String Camp is done.  (And now I need a nap.)

Everybody Sing (Babble)

Since my daughter was about eighteen months old, I don’t think a single day of her life has gone by that she hasn’t sung.  That’s not hyperbole, she really sings every single day.  She’s always been able to sing on key, and she has a pretty voice and an excellent memory.  Music is part of who Aden is, not just something she does.  She makes up little recitative-like narration to her games, she comes up with jingles (there’s one she developed for the drive to the YMCA that is particularly catchy) and she loves to sing along with CD’s.  The natural thing was to sign her up for choir, and that’s been good so far.

Mona sings in the Milwaukee Children’s Choir along with her sister, even though when she started she was technically a bit young for it, but they let her in anyway as a kind of sibling preference deal.  She wants to be a part of whatever Aden’s doing, so I don’t think she would do choir of her own accord, but I’m glad she’s involved.  She has a sweet, little girl’s voice, and when combined with Aden’s the sound is one of the most beautiful things I know.  When Mona was small she used to only sing along with the instrumental portions of the CD’s we listened to in the car which was weird and amusing and very interesting.  Like her sister, she often sings as she plays by herself.


Quinn is chatty more than he’s musical, but he can carry a tune well.   He does like to belt out a song as we ride in the car.  The favorite for most of this summer was Belinda Carlisle, Heaven is a Place on Earth.  (He really puts a lot of heart into the line “I’m not afraid—anymore!”)  We got that on a CD that came in a kids’ meal from Wendy’s and it was in heavy rotation for months.  (Another song on that disc is Somebody’s Watching Me by Rockwell, and I once spent an amusing evening lying in my bed listening to my kids down the hall debating about the lyrics.  There’s a line about the IRS, which Aden was hearing as the ARS, and she and Mona were coming up with theories about what that could be and why it was supposed to be funny that the singer was worried about it.  Quinn is like a little echo machine and he repeated both parts of that conversation as it was happening.  Eventually I told them it was the agency that collects our taxes, but they still weren’t sure about the joke.)  In any case, there are only four songs on that CD but it was like a little 80’s revival every time we got in the minivan.  The other big favorite this year has been the Here Comes Science CD by They Might Be Giants.  My personal favorite on that disc is their song Meet the Elements, but really all the tunes on that one are good.  It’s one of the few kids’ CD’s that I have on occasion put in when the kids weren’t even around.  I’m impressed that even my three year old can remember all those complicated lyrics.

But what I really wanted to touch on with this post is that there are many things–singing among them–that I’m glad my kids are still able to enjoy without being overly self-conscious.  Something about becoming an adult for many of us means feeling we are no longer qualified to participate in certain kinds of activities, and I think it’s a shame.  Often people hit a certain age and decide that they can’t draw, or dance, or sing, even though these are all things as kids they probably derived great joy from and didn’t worry what others thought.  I’m not saying that everyone has great untapped talent in these areas, I just don’t think you should deny yourself something fun because of some outside standard.  I talk to people in my music store all the time about how they would like to play the violin but that it’s probably “too late.”  Too late for what?  How many people started at the “right” age and did not become professional musicians?  You play because it’s fun and satisfying and a beautiful challenge.  There is no “too late” for that in my opinion.  People forget that drawing is fun.  A lot of people think that only people with some kind of magical gift can draw, but it’s skill based on work.  Talent is where you start, not an endpoint.  People with true genius have the added spark that transforms all that talent and hard work into art, but it’s still work.  (Brilliant people just make it look easy, but it isn’t.)

Watching my kids throw themselves into creative endeavors with great abandon is inspiring.  They like to sing loudly, they like to dance fast, and if they decide some toy animal would be better with wings they find spare materials lying around and just go ahead and make wings. But my girls are starting to hit ages where if the labels “singer,” “dancer,” or “artist” aren’t bestowed on them from an outside source, they are likely to doubt their abilities in those areas, and possibly let them go even if it’s with reluctance.  That makes me sad.  I want them to feel as limitless as I know they are.  I want them to feel entitled to pursue what interests them regardless of outside scrutiny or other people’s expectations. 

Part of the reason I wanted them in a real choir was not just for the learning experience, but to feel ownership of their voices in a way that they feel ‘qualified’ to sing anywhere, even as other children start to believe singing is only for a select few.  Their teachers openly acknowledge their artistic abilities which makes me glad.  I always tell them how much I like whatever new move they’ve added to their dance routines, but I’d like to talk them into trying a ballet class again for fun next summer.  I’m hoping the echoes of that kind of approval will resonate with them when they are older.  That if they have a memory of themselves as being officially artists or singers or dancers, then those might be outlets they don’t divorce themselves from prematurely someday.  I want them to enjoy being alive and not deny themselves ways of expressing that just because they might risk embarrassment or because it’s not part of their assumed identity.

I admit, this is primarily a pep talk for myself.  I am hopelessly self-conscious, even though I know it’s a waste of time.  My brothers live life without vanity and as a result have incredibly interesting experiences.  They never worry about if they look silly, and as a result even when they do look silly it comes off as pretty cool.  I’m not like that, even though I know in the grand scheme of things it doesn’t matter if I look silly.  I love to dance, but only alone, which is stupid.  I can trace it back to the day after a school dance in Jr. High when a boy I thought was kind of nice imitated how I danced to get a laugh.  I was deeply embarrassed and have never been able to dance in public without feeling self-conscious since.  Although my husband pointed out all these years later when I told him that story, that I missed the main point.  It wasn’t that the boy was making fun of me, it was that the boy had been watching me at the dance.  This perspective did help mend my ego a little, but not enough that I’m ready to hit the dance floor anytime in the near future.

I’m trying not to be as shy about singing.  I don’t really sing (there is a reason I play instruments instead) but boy it’s fun.  On the rare occasions that the kids don’t tell me to stop singing along in the car (why are parents never allowed to sing along?–I still get uncomfortable when my mom sings along so that kind of embarrassment must be hardwired) it always improves my mood to sing.  It feels good.  When I think about how much we encourage our kids to sing, from Twinkle Twinkle and The Itsy Bitsy Spider to holiday songs, all the way up to my kids’ choir or eventually school musicals, it’s amazing how few of the adults around them ever do it themselves.  It shouldn’t matter if we know someone else does it better.  Someone else always does whatever it is better, and those at the top are chasing the ghosts of talented people of the past most of the time.  That shouldn’t stop us from enjoying ourselves in the present.  Singing is fun, even if we don’t do it as well as we’d like or in a way that we even think is presentable.  I think many of us would be better off if we participated in more of the things we enjoy seeing our children do.  Life’s too short not to sing.  (Even if for cowards like myself it’s often just in the car.)

Influence (Babble)

I have a BA in music with distinction in Music Cognition.  I’ve been playing violin since third grade and viola since high school.  I’m employed at a conservatory, play with Festival City Symphony, and founded my own string quartet that was awarded ‘best in weddings’ for our region by the magazine The Knot two years in a row. 

I am not bragging because I know how much practice I sorely need to become the musician I aspire to be, and in the music world pecking order I rank very very very low.  Yeah, now think even lower.  No, I mention all of this just to stack some weight on my side in order to salvage a bit of my ego when I say–with all seriousness–that the greatest musical influence on my children has been my husband.  Ian.  The guy with the engineering and economic geography degrees.  It’s ridiculous.

Not that you have to have degrees in music to have your opinions or preferences on it be meaningful.  That’s insane.  Musicians strive to make music that is appreciated by a world primarily populated by non-musicians.  Without an audience the final step of what we are trying to do is obliterated.  I spend a lot of time telling non-musicians that their opinions count and not to be intimidated by snobs.

What I am trying to say, is that music is such an important component of my life that I made the (apparently crazy) assumption that when I had children, I would be the one to introduce them to the wonders of it.  I would have an impact on their preferences and could lead them down a musical path that I was familiar with.  Ha.



Turns out I can’t compete with my husband.  Ian could have been a jingle writer.  He comes up with catchy/annoying little tunes that stick in your head he and used them for reminding the kids to do things.  He made up one for telling the kids to brush their teeth, and one for washing hands, and one for eating corn….  He used to organize little dance-a-thons before bedtime to wear the kids out so they would sleep better, and he would drag out his Art of Noise records and play them songs by the Cranberries on his computer.  They knew all sorts of music he liked by heart.  During his stinits as stay-at-home dad the kids were introduced to all sorts of songs I didn’t even know.  It was silly to let it bug me, but there where days it did.  You can’t always control what rubs you the wrong way, even when you know better.

I’ve been thinking about this more than usual lately while we prepare for my husband to return home.  I will admit I have taken advantage of his absence to commandeer the CD and record players.  I can’t be accused of forcing too much of the stuff I like on my kids, especially since in the car I try to let them pick the music, and more often than not we find a middle ground between what they will enjoy and what I don’t mind listening to again and again and again.  We listen to a lot of They Might Be Giants, particularly ‘No’ and ‘Here Comes Science,’ but they can also sing along to quite a few Barenaked Ladies tunes now.  My kids know a lot more music from the 1980’s than is probably normal, but that’s because they like to run the record player themselves and that was the last time I bought any records.  (When Aden has friends over the ‘Ghostbusters’ soundtrack often ends up on the turntable.)

It’s been so long since Ian was a part of any routine here that all the little tunes he sang have faded from the kids’ memories.  Aden might remember a few of them if she heard them, but I don’t think Mona or Quinn would.  (It’s amazing what kids forget.  Mona used to have all of Mary Poppins memorized–every bit of dialogue, every song, every gesture–and when we ran across it in the video store recently it was completely new to her just a few years later.)  It will be good to have all the little songs back, and probably new annoying ones to get stuck in our heads when Ian is a real live present member of our family again and not just some kind of ghost who calls us on a satellite phone from time to time.

Between choir and TV, school and their friends, I don’t kid myself that I will have much influence on my kids’ musical lives in the grand scheme of things, but I’m trying to decide if there are a few more tunes I can worm into their little heads before their dad comes home and his influence becomes dominant in that area again.  I may be able to play along with them as they practice Bach and occasionally sneak some old Paul Simon tune onto the CD player on the ride to school, but I know where their true source of musical inspiration usually lies.  I can’t fight the tooth brushing song.  And at this point, I don’t even want to try.

What's a Mandola? (Babble)

If anyone has bothered to read the little bio under my picture that accompanies this blog, you may be one of the many people to ask yourself, “What’s a mandola?”  Luckily in the age of wikipedia you can get your answer online almost as quickly as you can ask the question, but in regular face to face conversation where no one is within reach of the internet, I still get asked.

My primary instrument is viola.  It’s what I majored in while I was in college.  I have spent much of my adult life answering the question, “What’s a viola?” and explaining that, no, it’s not the instrument you hold propped between your knees (that’s a cello).  Viola, for those not in the know or in the mood to get diverted to wikipedia again, is the alto voice of the violin family.  It’s slightly larger than a violin (which is an instrument everyone has heard of and violinists never get pestered with questions suggesting what they play is obscure) and it has a deeper sound.  Violas lack the highest string on a violin (the E), but instead have a string that goes a fifth lower than the violin’s lowest string.  (The strings on a violin in Western tonal music are tuned to G, D, A and E, and on a viola are tuned to C, G, D and A.) 

Viola is a beautiful instrument.  I started on violin in third grade and switched to viola in high school because we didn’t have any in our orchestra, and I liked it enough I never went back.  I still play violin occasionally, but that squeaky high E grates on my nerves.  I much prefer the depth and melancholy of the viola and its deeper tones.

For reasons I’m too tired to go into at the moment, my instrument has to fight for respect.  There are a million viola jokes.  (My viola instructor back at Ohio State used to collect conductor jokes.)  I participated in a concert where I teach at the Wisconsin Conservatory of Music a few years back that featured all the violists on the faculty, and in between numbers I talked to the audience a bit about the history of the instrument and told several jokes.  The one that got the biggest laugh was, “What do you call a violist with 2 brain cells? — Pregnant.”  Anyhoo, violists tend to be laid back enough that we can take a joke, so it’s all fine.  But it would be nice if more often than not when I told people I play viola they knew what it was.

So leave it to me to pick a new instrument to try that gets exactly the same reaction.  Mandola is to mandolin what viola is to violin.  And I mean that literally, because the string tunings are equivalent and they play the same roles in an ensemble.  Mandola is fun and I’m glad I decided to give it a try, but I have yet to tell someone in the schoolyard that I play one and see recognition in anyone’s eyes.

When my husband got deployed again, at least I knew from past experience what kinds of things I would be able to handle with him gone, and what things I wouldn’t.  I looked over the upcoming orchestra schedule and picked out which concerts were going to be too hard and turned them down.  I knew, for instance, that the concert featuring pieces by German composers that I had played in the past would not take too much work, but the Tchaikovsky symphony later in the season would probably kill me.  It’s hard enough finding time to practice when Ian’s home, but alone with three kids I have to be realistic.

Obviously music is important to me, and the idea of giving up the chance to play in a group while Ian was in Iraq was depressing.  I decided something less intense might be nice during this stressful time.  My friend Linda is the music director of the Milwaukee Mandolin Orchestra, which is an organization that has been making music here for over 100 years.  She plays violin in my string quartet, but several years back tried her hand at mandolin and took off with it.  Linda’s great.  Her mandolin orchestra performed in a concert with the orchestra I play with two seasons ago, and the music was so charming and everyone seemed to have so much fun that it got me thinking that that might be a good thing to try during the deployment.  I asked Linda how long she thought it would take me to learn mandola, and she said, “Oh, maybe 5…. 10 minutes.”  I suppose I should have asked how long it would take to learn mandola well, because I am by no means a good mandolist, but I can keep up okay.

If anything, all my musical training is a hinderence.  The notation in a lot of the music is…. let’s say ‘imprecise,’ so it takes awhile to figure out what is going on or what part of the page I should be reading from.  And one of the quirky things I’ve learned about the long and colorful history of mandolin orchestras in America, is that rather than learn the alto parts in alto clef (which is the clef violists play in), they write the music in this odd transposed manner. 

What it comes down to is the music is in treble clef and you play it as if you were holding a mandolin with it’s higher string tunings, but the sound that comes out is a fifth lower.  It makes me crazy.  I never have any idea what key we’re in, and I get confused if I can hear myself playing.  I look at the music and see an A, I play a note on my instrument as if it were an A on a different instrument, and the sound that comes out is a D.  Does that make sense?  No, not to me either, and I’m the one trying to do it every Monday from 7:00 to 9:00.  I’m the only person this seems to bother, and some of the other musicians in the group are fascinated that not hearing the note I’m seeing on the page as I play is a problem.  I’m adjusting, but every once in awhile my brain and hands have a minor freakout and I play something that doesn’t fit with anything.

But you know what?  That’s the beauty of the mandolin orchestra.  No one holds that against me.  Everyone is there because it’s fun.  They are amateurs in the truest sense of the word in that amateur comes from the French meaning ‘lover of.’  Professionals may love what they do, but I can say from experience that there is a different dynamic when money is involved.  Amateurs play purely for the love of it.  I seldom play viola without receiving a paycheck.  Playing Handel may be fun (that’s my string quartet in that clip), but playing it for a wedding is work, and it feels like it.  Playing ‘The Talisman‘ is just as fun as it sounds.  I got to play my first gig with the mandolin orchestra recently at the Italian Community Center where we got to perform fun things like Mambo Italiano with a talented local singer.  We seem to have been paid in pizza.

I’m really enjoying mandola.  I may stick with it even after Ian comes home if I can find the time for it.  My kids resent my going off to rehearsals, but I’m not going to let them make me feel guilty about playing music with friends for just a couple of hours a week.  (Yesterday I sat for over an hour in the car cleaning out my purse and then staring at clouds just so they could jump on a friend’s trampoline, so they owe me.)  My next door neighbor is kind enough to come over and put my kids to bed on those evenings so I can get away, and I’m so grateful.  Without her I don’t think I’d have signed on to this new musical adventure. 

But here I am, with the word ‘mandolist’ on my resume should I ever have to write one up again, and an outlet for my musical ambitions that doesn’t get me stressed.  It’s really nice.  So what’s a mandola?  It’s another word for happiness.

(P.S. Can you tell someone finally taught me how to use the embedded links feature?  I think I went a little overboard with it on this post, but it’s like having a geeky new toy.)

Kids and Music Lessons--Free Advice! (Babble)

As a violin teacher and owner of a music store, I get asked all the time about when or if kids should start playing an instrument.  In case Babble readers happen to have those same questions, I thought I’d take a moment to share my thoughts and opinions.

The first question I get from most people is:  “How do I know when to start my kid on an instrument?"

When the kid asks.  Interest is the first indicator of talent.  Some kids see a cello and they just know that’s what they want to do.  It speaks to them.  Depending on how old or responsible the child is determines how deeply you can dive in, but if they show an interest, do something.  Find recordings, see live players, go to a music store and let them touch whatever it is that got them excited.

As a player and a teacher I have to say the most important thing is that it has to be the child’s idea.  That may sound obvious to a lot of people, but having taught children who were forced into violin by a parent, it’s not obvious to enough people.  There are lots of ways to expose your child to music, like by going to concerts and visiting friends who play, and certainly getting him or her involved in some kind of lessons or class if he or she asks for it, but performing is not necessary for appreciation. 

Forcing children into something as difficult as violin will often turn them against it.  I once asked a boy with a lot of talent during a sample lesson with me if he even wanted to play violin.  He was so openly hostile with me at every turn, and he looked me right in the eye and said, “No!”  I asked him what he’d rather do, and he said wistfully what he really wanted to play was guitar.  I took his mom aside and told her there was nothing wrong with guitar.  Guitar is wonderful.  She was really perplexed because he was good at violin and felt it was her duty to make him continue.   I told her it seemed to me that there was no joy in it for him.  If that was true, what was the point?  If guitar made him happy, what was wrong with letting him use his talent there? 

Now, I have also been approached by parents with kids (usually in the twelve to sixteen year old range) where the kids wanted to quit, but had nothing else to replace it with.  I grilled a girl once who wanted to quit piano about what she would do with that time instead.  Basketball?  Pottery?  Chemistry?  Ornithology?  No, she admitted openly she wanted to just lie around and watch TV.  I told her whiling away half-heartedly at piano was better than nothing so she should keep playing until she found her passion. 

But for the most part, try not to project your own musical hopes onto your kids.  I let Aden beg me for a violin for a year before I was sure she really meant it.  Mona plays because she wants to be like her sister and I know once she’s old enough she will jump ship for trumpet.  Which is fine.  I can’t help her with trumpet, but I’ll support her as best I can when we get there.  (Quinn likes being like his sisters, and since I own a violin store he’s got a 1/32 size to play with, but he isn’t ready for lessons.)

Which brings me to the next question:  “How young can they start?”

Depends on the instrument.  Violin and piano primarily involve finger dexterity, so you can start as young as the child is willing.  I have a violin in my store that’s a 1/64 size in case there is ever a one-year old with the maturity to handle it, but violin in particular is only limited to the abilities of the child.  Other instruments that involve using your mouth, such as clarinet or trumpet, you need to wait until closer to age nine generally.  From what I understand from my wind and brass friends, the structure of your jaw, etc., play a role that requires you to be more developed, plus there are no fractional sizes that are an appropriate weight or size.  That’s why you don’t see prodigy trombone players, but you do see teeny tiny violinists or pianists at talent shows and on TV.  As I said, Mona has been eyeing the trumpet since she was really small, but she knows she has to wait.  In the meantime, violin uses the same clef, so at least she’s learning to read the right music and developing her ear.  We visit trumpets periodically, and she’s looking forward to turning eight because that was the magic age I said we could give it a try.

“Do you really need a teacher?”

Yes.  You really do.  I have taught too many people who had to unlearn some horrible habits to feel comfortable telling anyone to just mess around on their own at the start.  Bad habits on violin prevent people from reaching their musical goals and make the whole experience less enjoyable.  Violin is worthwhile, but hard.  There are a million picky things that you won’t catch by yourself without training.  Get a good foundation, then mess around all you want.  It’s less frustrating that way.  If you are lucky enough to have strings offered at school it’s a great way to start, but to really advance it’s good to have private lessons too, and use the school experience as a supplement.

“How do you find a teacher?”

Most music stores, if they don’t offer lessons on the premises, usually have lists or business cards of teachers.  Ask around.  Talk to parents who have kids who play.  And ask for a sample lesson!  You need to find a teacher that your child clicks with.  Don’t be afraid to switch if it isn’t right.  I know some parents who never keep their child with a teacher for more than a year or two just because they want him or her to experience different instructors.  Sometimes talented high school students are even up for giving lessons at a much cheaper rate, and that can be a good deal for everyone.  Once you start looking actively, you’ll likely be surprised at just how many musicians and teachers there are in the average community.

“What about Suzuki Method?”

Here’s where my own personal opinions will probably get me in trouble.  Suzuki supporters tend to be very vocal, but I’ll say what I think anyway.  I’ll start by pointing out that any child with talent and enthusiasm will probably thrive using almost any method, as long as he or she gets exposed to all the skills needed to succeed.  That said, I have issues with strict Suzuki method.  Now, most people when asking about Suzuki are really asking about violin or piano for young children.  They don’t know specifically what Suzuki means, just that small children they’ve heard playing it sound great. 

And they do!  Suzuki materials are wonderful, I use the books myself when I teach because they are affordable and universally recognized by other teachers and students, but in traditional Suzuki method players learn to play by ear before they learn to read music.  The concept is that we learn to speak before we learn to read language, so in music we should rely on our ears first, and our eyes second. 

Maybe in certain circumstances that works, but from my observations, it leads to problems.  You can play many instruments like guitar without reading music and it may never matter, but to play a violin family instrument and not be able to read music easily can be a disaster.  I have met more musicians who took Suzuki method than I care to count who told me they played through high school and then finally had to quit because the stress of not being able to read the music made the whole experience too unpleasant.  And some of these people play beautifully!  But reading was such a low priority early in their education that they never developed a comfort level with it to make orchestra or chamber ensembles possible.  If no one played their part for them first so they could hear it and try to commit it to memory, they didn’t know what to do.  And who has the time to memorize the entire viola part to a Dvorak symphony?  My own practical experience playing weddings and concert halls tells me that reading is essential to having the most opportunities open to you as a string player. 

Does that mean you should avoid signing a child up for Suzuki lessons?  No.  Because Suzuki generally involves work in a group and that can be a lot of fun for kids and if the teacher is dedicated and nice it will probably be great.  But tell the teacher you want to make sure your child will learn to read music.  Even a lot of classes listed as Suzuki are often hybrids and the teachers incorporate reading earlier than is traditional for the method.  Some people call themselves Suzuki teachers because they have the specific training for it and they know people will know that means they teach children, but it doesn’t mean they actually teach that way.  Ask, and go with what seems reasonable to you.

“Should I buy or rent an instrument?”

At my violin store I usually recommend for anyone in a fractional size or just starting out that they rent at first.  It gives you a safe way to try it out for a bit and see if it’s even something you want to continue.  If you plan to use a small instrument for a really long time because you expect to pass it down to other children, then it can make sense to buy one, but otherwise I don’t see the point in getting saddled with small violins that you don’t know what to do with later.  See what kinds of programs your local stores have.  Lots of places have buy back programs or rent-to-own opportunities.  There are also some online companies that rent to anywhere, so if there isn’t a store in your area that rents there are still ways to get started. 

Just as with teachers, though, don’t feel you can’t switch.  Just because you get sucked into one store’s program and have some kind of discount available doesn’t mean when you’re ready to buy that you shouldn’t look elsewhere.  Ask a teacher to tell you if he or she thinks an instrument is good enough; is it easy to tune, is it comfortable?   You can’t tell everything by the price of an instrument, but obviously the more expenisve it is the more likely it is to have fewer quality issues. 

That said, violins under $200 tend to scare me.  Most of the outfits I rent retail for about $450, but there are certainly decent ones out there for less if you look.  Most people looking to buy a full size violin when they move on from renting tend to budget between $1000 to $2000 for their first decent instrument. That’s considered cheap in the violin world, so be forewarned!  (The ones I build myself cost around $4000.)  Also, not that it isn’t possible to find a good instrument on ebay, but I’ve never seen one walk into my store.  People find crazy things that they think were a good deal and then bring them to me to fix up, and most of the time it would have been cheaper to buy something in town that already worked.  Craigslist can be a better way to go sometimes, since it’s local and you can see the instrument and possibly even take it someplace to be looked over before you buy it. Students need something reliable that is in good enough condition that they aren’t fighting it all the time.  I’m amazed how often adult students in particular are willing to assume odd sounds they make when practicing are their fault, when many times it could be the instrument itself.

So those are the most common questions about starting music lessons that I get.  (Not counting the most common one which is “Do you give lessons?” and the answer to that is I’m not taking any new students right now.  That was one of the things I had to give up to be home with my own kids while Ian is away.  I had the most wonderful studio of little viola students in the Progressions program at the Milwaukee Youth Symphony, but my own kids need me more right now, so I resigned at the end of the last school year.  I miss those kids, but the new teacher they got to replace me is excellent, so I know the kids will do well.)  I love music and I love helping other people get involved in music so I’m always happy to field more questions if anyone has any.

Making music has been one of the great joys of my life.  Watching the greatest joys of my life make their own music has been astonishing.  I’m sure I’ll cry at every recital.  (Even if Mona switches to trumpet.)