My Love Affair with the Cello

Though I grew up knowing the sound of the cello (My family listened to recordings of orchestra music in my home from the time I was a baby), my first real exposure to the cello came when I was ten years old. A generous, but anonymous, donor gave my entire class box seat tickets to attend all four of the Chicago Symphony Orchestra's youth concerts that year. One of the featured performers that season was an 11-year old cellist. I can't remember what he played or what else was played in that concert, but I remember the sound of the cello. It captured my spirit, and I have never been able to escape from its power.

In January of that same year, when it came time for the school's string teacher to recruit string students, I was one of the first to sign up. The string teacher took on the task of giving private lessons to all of the strings students in the school. For the sake of time, I was paired up with another student who was studying the viola, and each week we were taken from class for 30 minutes to have our lessons. I found the cello to be very difficult, but it didn't stop me from wanting to learn.

By June, I was recruited to play in the community string orchestra for rising 5
th graders. For two months that summer and the following summer, I left the house at 7:00 a.m. and set out on foot for orchestra practice. It was over a mile to the high school where we rehearsed, and I can remember that my cello got heavier with each step. Bela, the only other cellist in the orchestra, had a more interesting approach to transportation. He balanced his 3/4-sized cello across the handlebars of his bicycle and rode to practice. (It's a wonder the cello made it in one piece.) I loved orchestra, and though we only played simple pieces, I was happy to have the experience.

My study of the cello ended abruptly a year and a half later when my parents decided to send me to a private school which had no string program. I was studying the piano at the time, and since we owned the piano and not the cello, the cello went back to the school. I happily continued my study of the piano, but I always hoped I'd get back to the cello one day.

Music consumed me, and throughout middle and high school, I studied the piano and sang in the choir. I was also recruited by the school's music teacher to serve as a teacher's aide in the elementary school for two years. I attended all of the elementary school music classes and learned all I could from the music teacher. This experience led me to decide to become a music teacher.

I was accepted in a small, private university, and the fall following my graduation from high school, I moved to South Carolina to begin my music training. After a short detour in the science department for a semester (that's another story), I began my studies in secondary music education and English. The university offered free music lessons to all students, and though I was already studying piano and voice, I took on the cello again.

For my first cello exam, I played
Humoresque by Dvorak. The examining professors were so impressed with what I had accomplished in one semester, they suggested I drop the piano and take on the cello. I didn't. I continued to study the cello for two more semesters, but overloading my schedule and the stress of too many class hours finally took a toll on my health. With less than 3 semesters of school to finish, I was forced to drop out completely. I did not own a cello, and so again, I had to give it up.

I planned to return in one year to finish my studies, but as often happens, one year turned into two. During this time, my interests were redirected, and I decided to pursue a degree in Bible. Shortly after I arrived at my new school, I purchased a used student cello for $250 and tried to learn what I could on my own. There was no teacher available, no time to practice and no place to play, so I eventually sold the cello to pay for some needed dental work. It would be a long time before I had a cello in my hands again.

Nearly 17 years later, I walked into the music store where I was teaching piano a couple of days a week. The shop specialized in used instruments. On this particular day, I noticed a used student cello that I hadn't seen before. "How much do you want for this cello?" I asked the store owner. "Three hundred dollars." he replied. "Would you let me pay for it in installments?" "Your credit is good with me." He answered. When I got home that evening, I asked my husband if he minded if I bought a cello. He wasn't too excited about the idea, but when I came home a few weeks later announcing that I had found a cello teacher, what could he say?

A college student looking to make a few extra dollars to pay her way through
veterinary school began sharing studio space with me at the store. Her instrument was the cello, and she began teaching me. Nearly everything I had learned (except my bad habits) was forgotten. I had to start from the beginning. The cello did not come so easily this time. Four years, 3 cellos and three teachers later, I started to come close to the level I had attained in only one semester in college.

Two years into my fresh study of the cello, my 5-year old daughter started to study with a master Suzuki cello teacher. After hearing about my struggles with the cello, she offered to teach me. By this time, I had obtained a good cello which my husband allowed me to buy for our 10
th anniversary (I wanted a cello more than diamonds.).

Now, there are three cellos in my house in various sizes. Each week, my daughters and I pack our cellos into the van, and we drive over 20 miles each way to study. After years of struggling, some of the ease with which I played in college is coming back to me, and it is a joy to play. Someone even asked me today if I would play my cello for their wedding. It's a first of what I hope will be many opportunities to share the joys I have found in this delightful instrument.

Comments

Anonymous said…
When a woman says she wants a cello more than diamonds......there can be no doubt of her love for the instrument.

Many, many years ago I felt just as stongly about the guitar. I didn't have one, had never played one, knew nothing about the instrument. But i knew that I wouold be a guitarist as surly as I knew my name.

Too bad the talent never matched the love of the instrument. After more than $)*%@@!)(* years I have to confess that I am a fair "strummer' and not really a guitarist.

But the love of the guitar is every bit as strong today as it was in my childhood and the satisfaction, solace and familiarity of my guitars have carried me through many a rogh spell in my life.

I really can not imagine a life where I do not pick up my guitar on a regular basis.

And i don't want to!

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