My earliest musical memories are of playing sandblocks at the YMCA toddler program called "Rhythm Band", & watching my Dad learn to play the guitar by watching a program on Public Television. The woman who hosted the program wore eyeshadow the same color as her polyester pantsuit. This was the early seventies after all. After that it was strumming in the kitchen on my plastic four string guitar (which was eventually replaced by a "real" wooden one) & beating on the Peanuts drum I got for Christmas until I broke the paper head.
When I got a little older I took the Suzuki method for learning violin on my Uncle's fiddle, & even studied it a bit in school. I never really took to it though. I remember playing for quite awhile & being unable to make any real sound until the teacher finally noticed & realized that I'd neglected to put any rosin on the bow. I must have sounded quite awful, but I remember my Mom callling me out to the living room to play "Go Tell Aunt Rhody" & "Twinkle-Twinkle Little Star" for her friends.
Piano lessons came soon after, & while I did enjoy inventing dramatic compositions on the piano (frequently titled "Thunderstorm" & referred to as "pounding" by those with less educated ears) I mostly remember the incredible battle of the wits which I was constantly engaged in with my mother regarding the dreaded practicing of my lessons. She would set the cookie timer for thirty minutes & go off to do some household chore, calling "I can hear you" from time to time, just to keep me on my toes. Meanwhile, I would scurry through my lessons & scales, reaching over to take a couple of minutes of the timer with each pause in the music. The trick was to see how much time I could shave off the clock without getting caught. I also remember the incredible betrayal I felt one day when my mother informed me that just because school was cancelled because of the snow, did not mean that I did not have to go to my piano lesson that day. Instead, I had to walk the slippery sidewalks up the hill to Mrs. Sweet's house, grumbling & cursing the injustice of piano lessons the entire way. Still, I kept playing classical piano into my teenage years, & even became adept enough to receive an honorary mention at a recital once. When I finally stopped taking lessons, it wasn't really because I didn't like the piano, it was because I wanted to concentrate on playing the saxophone.
I started playing the alto saxophone in the sixth grade, after trying my hand at the vioin & the french horn. I remember that I was home sick from school the day that my Mom came home with a huge surprise. My parents had bought a used alto saxophone through the classified ads. It was a Bundy student model. I had the music book we were using in school already & had been looking at it for days, trying to practice the fingerings without an instrument. When I took the saxophone out of the case & put it together, I put it in my mouth & the first thing I played was a scale. It came to me so much easier than any other instrument had before. Right away I could make something that sounded halfway like music & I was hooked.
(To be Continued)
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