April 7, 2014

Music does indeed hath powers.....

Sitting and enjoying the high school's dinner concert the other night, my thoughts couldn't help but wander.  You see, there showcased on stage was a multitude of emotions.  The students performed their hearts out and it was a joy to see.

Coming from a musically-inclined family, I couldn't help but think back upon the past-something I am wont to do oh so often.  In my family there were two violinists, a woodwind player, a trombonist and a mandolin, guitar and harmonica player. 

And two very tolerant, patient parents. 

The early, formative years of an instrumentalist, can be challenging to say the least.  Even so, the learning curve is remarkable and young music students learn by leaps and bounds.  I once commiserated with a music teacher, suggesting that the task of teaching students the fine art of playing a musical instrument must surely be a challenge.  I recall the response being that in fact it was a most rewarding experience and one very cherished indeed.

Hm...that was music to my ears, so to speak.   Because like anything, learning to play a musical instrument begins with a slow crawl that eventually develops into a beautiful stroll. 

Every time I attend a school concert I marvel in amazement.

When I was growing up, our home was filled with musical instruments of every sort.  We even had a music room in our house that our folks dubbed the "conservatory".  It was deep in the basement of our split level home. It had no windows and held a cave-like atmosphere.

It was there that we went to practice our respective instruments in peace.  At the time we thought our room held special qualities and felt that we were so fortunate indeed.  I now know that it was strategically selected by our parents to provide a practice space that was virtually sound-proof and isolated from the rest of the house. 

If only those walls could talk. They might protest the minutes and hours of notes to which they were subjected.   The out-of-tune screech of a violin, or the insanely shrill lofty notes of the piccolo must have been almost unbearable.  Or they might rejoice in the joy of  the budding musicians whose hours of practice took place in those four walls. 

Nevertheless, the hours of practice led to a lifetime of music making in my family.

Music.  It's timeless as well as universal.  I salute those who promote and participate in it.  For music is endless.  It knows no boundaries and speaks to us all. 

Thank  you Murray County Central musicians and directors for taking me back to a time so long ago when the music was first budding in my life. 

Such sweet music to my ears.