Life cycle

Last summer Lena started asking for violin lessons. My first reaction was no way! She was about to start first grade and no way was I going to add something as intense as violin lessons into the mix. I do not understand why so many music teachers expect new students to start in September. As if kids didn't already have enough new things to adjust to! But Lena continued to beg for violin lessons. Joey takes piano, so she understands about weekly lessons and daily practice, and finally we agreed that she could start taking in January.

Round about the middle of December I suddenly realized I better get on the ball or I was going to have one very disappointed little daughter. Luckily I was able to find a teacher who had an opening in January -- a woman whom I remembered from high school, when she'd been concertmistress of the school orchestra. She gave us advice about where to rent a violin, and that's what we did yesterday.

We went to this fabulous place called Psarianos. (Say it out loud: Sah-ree-AH-nos! Isn't that marvelous?) It's a tiny shop, hours by appointment only. They have another store outside Detroit that's bigger, and please click the link to check out their beautiful showroom. Though their site doesn't show the Ann Arbor store, it does give a good feeling for the Dickensian atmosphere: deep brown instruments, soft incandescent lighting, and the smell of old wood. Some day I must write a whole post on the smell of old musical instruments. There's nothing like it.

Anyway, Lena and I go in and the first person to walk out from the back room and greet us is none other than the famous Mr. Long. He's a beloved local legend, a now-retired school orchestra conductor. My husband had him through middle school, and so did Lena's new violin teacher. I went to a different middle school, but I had him for All-City Orchestra in 6th grade, and I think also in 8th or 9th grade as well. The music wing of the middle school where he taught is now named after him. And if that's not enough: my sister is very close friends with his daughter, who still lives in town, my niece and nephew play with his little granddaughter every week, and his son-in-law is the attorney who drew up the paperwork for my desktop publishing company. Laurie Psariano looked on with a big grin as Mr. Long and I exclaimed over it all. This kind of thing doesn't happen in her Detroit store! Let's face it -- we may think we're super-cosmopolitan, but Ann Arbor is a small town.

Mr. Long was so kind to Lena. She was very shy at first, but Mr. Long kept at her, gentle yet relentless, until finally they were chatting away like old friends. And Laurie was extremely deferential and respectful, telling Lena how lucky she was that he happened to be there, encouraging Mr. Long to be the one to show her how to hold the instrument, rosin the bow, etc. Which he did. Oh, I wish you could have been there to see it!

I vividly remember the time leading up to my first clarinet lesson. I had been fascinated by the instrument for quite a while. The dad next door had a clarinet which he always kept out on a stand in his study. I remember going over there and sneaking peaks at it. I couldn't keep away from it. Even the word -- clarinet! -- had such a ring to it. My aunt played the clarinet in high school, and she gave me hers. Before I ever had my first lesson I used to open the case and stare at it, smell it (yes, the smell of old musical instruments!), gingerly touch the keys, and ponder. How in the world would this strangely beautiful object produce music?

Lena's there right now. She's got that violin up in her room. She keeps going in to visit it. She listens to her new cd all the time, and has a favorite piece (Shubert's Serenade, bless her heart). She's staring at those four strings and the bow, wondering how in the world this strangely beautiful object could be made to produce music.

And there was our very own Mr. Long, starting her along that path.