Viola – About Me

In 2000, once we realized that the new century wasn’t going to destroy all of our technology, I decided that I wanted to learn to play a musical instrument. I had an old violin my dad had acquired somewhere, and it had always struck me as exotic and special to be able to make lovely music with a bow and a small wooden box with strings.

I was living in a small town before the days of Google. I asked my local librarians if they knew anyone who taught music. They eagerly referred me to a woman who lived in a town twenty minutes away. 

Was I a successful student? Well, let’s say that I was keen. My instructor was accomplished at piano, violin and viola. I was her only adult pupil. She was also incredibly patient as I sawed my bow every week through rudimentary nursery tunes. Never discouraged, I did learn a few tunes. I switched to a viola, a larger instrument, because holding that dainty violin under my chin made me feel clumsy. I loved the deep sound and the way the vibrations of the chords resonated through my body.

My biggest impediment was that I could not read music fast enough to keep time with the rhythm of the songs I weas trying to learn. I can speed read literature like a champ, but those black and white notes on the page were truly a foreign language to me. I resorted to memorization. That worked for a while but whenever a new song was introduced, I felt like I was back in kindergarten.

What I found out later is that my instructor had a class of musical prodigies. Most were under twelve years old. They could decode the notes of the most complex piece like they were reading a comic book. We had a common task though – preparing for an outdoor concert at a park by the Barrie waterfront.

On a glorious summer afternoon, the rest of the class and I played a mini concert. It had taken me all summer to memorize Pachelbel’s Canon in D Minor but once I got carried away by the beauty of the music, I could get through playing it without stumbling too badly. Our audience was an assortment of parents and random visitors who applauded loudly after we were done.

Whenever I look at that photo and remember how I stood out from my young music-mates, I smile with pride that I didn’t embarrass myself at my first—and last—viola recital.