Beginning

With the fall of this year comes Hedgie's first cello lessons.

In my family this is one of the most important rites of passage, the day you play the first sweet and terrible notes of your very own instrument. I can barely remember the details of my first violin lessons--I was only five--but I do remember how timid and awestruck I was--the only feeling that has come close since was the first time I held baby Hedgie in my arms, afraid to break her. How heavy the quarter-size violin was in my little arms then, how amazing the alchemy of bow to string and then sound...although the little screeches and scritches must have been dreadful indeed to the ears of my patient listeners.

My violin has been with me on my journey for nearly 35 years now, a steadfast companion always, whether spurned or beloved, through all the times musically fallow and musically fertile. Its sturdy presence shielded me from the parodically cruel tendency of Emily, my second teacher, to discipline by rapping her own bow hard across my knuckles. It was the helpful wing-man in my pursuits of a proto-Severus, black-haired Peter with the glowing pallor, the first violin in my high school string quartet (how I quavered under his gaze as he reminded me, with a haughty little tip of his bow, to come in on the correct note). My violin and I spent long afternoons together in the music rooms of my college, and it never complained that I took frequent breaks to stare out the windows at the rain, at the trees changing to fall and then from fall to spring...

We have come all this way from our long-ago beginning. There it is in the corner now, waiting for the rosined bow and for me.

Stormy Saturday Afternoon

I feel a little like I'm just waking up from a long and restless nap, but I'm much much better today. Torrential rain all afternoon, which Hedgehog and I braved to keep a luncheon date with some dear friends of ours. It's always so much easier when the girls and the mamas get along. I find it very congenial when we all hang out together. I ate a delicious hot squash soup with tarragon, which tasted like the very essence of getting better after a long illness.

Late this afternoon, with the wind and rain howling outside, I got out my dear violin. She is much beloved, with a strong true tone. I've had her since I was twelve:



I played a bit on my own, then Sgt. Pepper got out his guitar and joined me for a little hootenanny. Hedgehog played the buttons (as in, she rhythmically clicked two buttons together in time to our music; actually sounded pretty cool) and we all sang. I can't possibly explain how I feel when I play my violin--she's one of my oldest friends, and I just love her so. Her familiar heft, her lovely sound. We took some requests from E. ("Dirty Old Town," "Scarlet Begonias," "Lullaby of London") and then moved on to some of our favorite Irish music:





What a wonderful afternoon.

Now, having been tagged by Cecile to list Seven Things about Myself, here you go:

1. I got my driver's license just a few years ago (I'm 38). But I've become a really good driver, and drive all over Brooklyn and Manhattan, midtown, the streets and expressways, like a pro. I think of myself as a taxi driver who doesn't make you carsick. Even Sarge doesn't like to drive in the city, but I'm kinda ballsy like that.

2. I've played violin since I was five. Some of my earliest memories are of playing.

3. I'm Jewish and I majored in religion in college, but I specialized in formative Christianity. I'd never even read the Christian bible before that, and I got very interested in the Apostolic Age. I minored in Ancient Greek.

4. I am a Rabbinical School drop-out. Yes, I was studying to be a Rabbi, but switched tracks to criminal justice. Hmm.

5. My first love was thirty years older than I. I was a freshman in college. He was a pretty well-known rock journalist. He totally stomped on my heart. But he made me amazing mixed tapes.

6. I have a rather useless Masters Degree in Forensic Psychology. My favorite class was "Introduction to the Rorschach," where we learned to read the famous inkblot test and even practice on people we knew, then write up evaluations of their psyches. Totally presumptuous and not so useful. SO MUCH FUN.

7. After some peripatetic years (college, Israel, Texas, Queens) I've settled in the neighborhood of my childhood. I feel a deep connection to it, and have no real desire to leave. I'd even live in my childhood home if I could. You know the small-town girl who breaks away? I don't want to be her.

That's it--a little bit of me.