Second Lesson (Cello AND Life)

I have just realized that nobody is reading this blog. Well, the few people I have invited to read it have, but I am not changing lives by blogging about my new experiences. And YES, I had thought perhaps I would. Very narcissistic of me to be sure, but a motivating factor to blog nonetheless. I also realized that there is someone far more well known than me (I?) who has written a book about his taking up the cello at the age of forty. FORTY? He's light years ahead of me AND he already has a literary following. John Holt. You may have heard of him.

Anyway, I will persevere. My last lesson, so similar to the first, consisted of the proper positioning of the cello, holding the bow properly and fingering on the A string. I was very impressed that my teacher, Robin, had to set a timer so the lesson did not run over as she is playing in the orchestra of the Nutcracker, here in Portland, Maine. She also demonstrated to me how holding the bow is dictated by many factors by playing a part of the Bach Cello Suite that inspired me to pursue the cello in the first place. The suite brought tears to my eyes.

When I got home, HOWEVER, I had not been prepared for the sound of my own practicing. I had been told most of my life that I had "perfect pitch". I never knew what that meant except for I knew whenever I was either a little sharp or flat on a note when I played the viola, it was extremely painful.

Now as an adult, I play the cello and even though I AM playing in tune, I don't sound too good. Let me qualify that. When I was an adult and decided I could finally afford to take private lessons for the viola (and was in a relationship with a man I wanted to impress with my pursuit of learning), I would pull out my viola and the cat (who owned me at the time) Hobie, would take one look at the instrument and find the farthest corner in the tiny apartment I rented and I swear to God, if she had hands, would have put them over her little cat ears. I tried not to take it personally. I mean, what does a cat know? But she was right. A viola is squeakier and dare I say, if played by an amateur, more annoying than a cello (yet not as bad as a violin played by a beginner).

But now that I have put my self esteem aside, paid for my cello lessons and tried to justify the charge on my credit card for the cello rental, I'm wondering, REALLY? I'm 54 years old for God's sake. I mean, I know I will probably not play professionally, but when will I be able to tolerate the sound of my own practicing? But I know I still want to do this. I'll probably keep it a secret except for the few friends that I have. And if I never make it to Carnegie Hall by practicing, practicing, practicing! At least I know that I gave it a shot.