Lean Against My Heart: Life with My Cello

Cello Club

5/15/2015

Sometimes I have crazy ideas. Last year, after only playing the cello for a few months, I decided that it might be fun to start a cello club at work. I figured we would talk about cello music, how to care for your cello etc. The last thing I wanted to do in Cello Club was play the cello. At the time, my bow hold was exceedingly tight, and more often than not, I had to apply ice to my right arm after playing. My left wrist hurt all of the time, and I had bruises on my shoulder and between my knees, all courtesy of my fumbling attempts to make my cello sing. Not surprisingly, she didn't sing. She sounded like a dying chicken. There was no way I was going to play the cello in front of my students. No way.

Most people would reasonably argue that there is no point in starting a cello club if you are not going to play the cello. But, from the moment I first touched my cello, I couldn't stop talking about it, listening to it, or learning about it. Why not start a club?

The next day, I posted an announcement for our first meeting. I didn't expect anyone to show up, but someone did. Not sure how to proceed, we listened to some classical cello music first. Then, we listened to the group 2Cellos. By special request, we talked about and researched rosin.

Amazingly enough, my student came back once a month for the rest of the school year. Not once did we play the cello, but within weeks, he began referring to me as "Cello Queen."

This year, our group has expanded. All of our members are teenage boys. Once a month, they give up their free time after school to attend our club. One of them plays the cello, one plays the guitar, and one just enjoys the sound of the cello. This year, for the first time, we played together. All of us gathered in the chapel, played a variety of Suzuki gems, and improvised. The students loved it, and so did I.

After that meeting, a staff member and I kept playing together until well after dark. The sound of our cellos boomed against the chapel's walls, and in the light of the stained glass windows, snow was falling. If I could have stayed there playing all night, I would have.

The next day, the first thing one of my students said to me was, "Cello club rocked!" And that is why, one Tuesday a month, I forget about everything I don't know yet about the cello. Instead, I think about how much fun it is to play with my students, and I take my cello to work. Sometimes I worry that they won't show up, but they always do. They, like the cello, never cease to amaze me.

Dona Nobis Pacem

7/30/2014

Some of you know that I volunteer as a Big Sister. That means that I spend nearly every weekend with my over-the-top, funny, creative, compassionate Little Sister. Almost nine years ago, a social worker at Big Sister thought that we would be a good match, and she was right.

This past weekend, Big Sister sponsored a a trip to Tanglewood, which is the summer home of the Boston Symphony Orchestra. Coincidentally, we shared the bus with a group of teenagers who work for an organization called Teen Empowerment, and who happen to be friends of my Little Sister's from school.

If you've never been to Tanglewood before, you should go. There is something magical about listening to live music outside, surrounded by people of all ages and backgrounds, as the sound of the cellos soars over the crowd. Sunday's concert featured Rachmaninoff's Piano Concerto Number 2, and various selections by Verdi.

As wonderful as the concert was, and as much as I enjoyed being back in Western Massachusetts, the highlight of the day for me didn't occur until we got on the bus to head home. As soon as we were seated, the group from Teen Empowerment started singing a spontaneous rendition of Dona Nobis Pacem.

Dona Nobis Pacem means Grant us Peace in Latin. Our world is a crazy, scary, dangerous place. But when those teenagers sang that song, which has been performed and sung all over the world for hundreds of years, but never quite so beautifully as on that bus this past Sunday, it gave me hope that things will get better, especially if those particular young adults have any say in the matter.

I didn't record the teens as they sang, but I wish that I could have. Instead, I will leave you with the National Cello Institute's rendition of Dona Nobis Pacem. I wish that the whole world could hear it.

The Swan

7/18/2014

When I was in second grade, my teacher gave me the following writing prompt: If you could be any person in the world, who would you be? My response was: I would be myself. I would be the same as I am now. But I would get my work done faster. More than thirty years have passed since I wrote that, and I'm not nearly as content with myself, or my life, as I was then.

I am old enough to know that I might never be anyone's mother, and that I might spend the rest of my life alone. I am old enough to know that it's not realistic to quit my job and write a novel instead. I am old enough to know that dreams don't always come true, no matter how much I would like them to.

But that doesn't mean I give up on them. I know more about pregnancy and birth than most people do. I research foster parenting and adoption. I have various novel drafts on my computer. I tell myself that I'd rather be alone than with the wrong person.

And, on most days, that's true. But on other days, I am overwhelmed with the desire to trade places with someone else. Someone in a happy marriage, someone with a baby, someone who loves her job, or better yet, a happily married novelist with a baby.

On those days, my cello saves me. There are so many components to learning how to play the cello, that when I sit down to practice, I can't think about my life. I can't think about anything except the cello, the angle of my arms, legs, and hands, the placement of my fingers, and the pressure on my bow. In that moment, the only thing that matters is figuring out how to make that massive chunk of wood sing like I know it can, even if its song eludes me most of the time.

When I was younger, I thought that it was important to get my work done faster. And sometimes it is, but other work, the most important work, takes months or years. Even when I have a rough practice day, like today, when almost every note sounds like death, and it would be easier to put the cello in a large box and ship it somewhere far away, each day I practice is one step closer to the dream I have for myself and my cello. That dream is to play Saint-Saen's The Swan. I don't know whether I'll ever play it, but I do know that like all of my other dreams, I'm not ready to give up on it yet.

Cello Summer

7/13/2014

Many people are spending their free time this summer at the beach. I am spending my free time memorizing songs on my cello. As I mentioned in last week's post, I have a new teacher now. I chose her originally because she's an accomplished cellist, because she's been teaching for a long time, and because she is available for weekly lessons. She also uses the Suzuki method, but up until two weeks ago, I didn't really know what that meant, and I didn't care. I just needed a new teacher.

Now I know what the Suzuki method is, and I am a firm believer. For me, Suzuki's emphasis on memorization through listening and repetition really works. Ever since I started playing the cello a year ago, I've surrounded myself with cello music, but I'd never made myself memorize any songs. Now I'm memorizing at least one song a week, and usually two. The emphasis on memorization motivates me to practice every day, and the more I practice, the more confident I am, and the more I love the cello.

I also appreciate Suzuki's gradual introduction of new skills. This week, I am learning a song called Lightly Row. Lightly Row features tunneling, which means keeping my fingers on one string while playing a note on another string with the bow. It's not easy. Ideally, by Wednesday, I should sound like this, minus the vibrato. Vibrato is that wiggly thing he's doing with his fingers. I haven't learned how to do that yet, but I will soon enough, especially if I keep practicing every day.

I'll have to wait a little while though, because it's only 8:00 in the morning, and as much as I've grown to appreciate the Suzuki method over the past few weeks, I'm sure that my landlord, who lives upstairs, is probably hearing French Folk Song and Lightly Row in his nightmares.

Renewing the Contract

7/6/2014

I've been playing the cello for one year and eleven days. Last year, when I first signed the rental agreement and took on the daunting task of learning the cello as an adult, I told myself that even if I got frustrated and wanted to trade her in for a triangle, I had to stick with it until at least June 25th, 2014. Well, June 25th came and went, and I just renewed the rental agreement.

This past year, I had a wonderful teacher who shared her love of the cello with me, and patiently stood by as I made exceedingly slow progress. I met her at a local adult ed beginning cellists' class, and later took several private lessons with her. Due to scheduling conflicts though, I had to find a new teacher.

Last week, I had my first lesson with my new teacher, and so far, we are off to a good start. I've been practicing every day, and I now have stickers on my cello to help with finger placement. I look forward to the day when I can remove them, but for now, the visual and tactile feedback from the stickers is helping to boost my confidence and my cello's sound. Already, my coordination in my left hand is improving and I can transition between notes much more smoothly.

The cello is a finicky, visually beautiful creature. If played correctly, its sound sends chills down your spine and can make you weep with the beauty of it. But getting a cello to reveal its true voice takes a lot of hard work and patience. Most of the time, my cello still sounds like an ailing cow, but once in a while, she sings, and the sound and feeling of those elusive perfect notes is enough to make me keep working at it, at least for one more year.

My First Private Cello Lesson

2/18/2014

There are few things in this world more beautiful than books, the sound of a cello as it vibrates against your heart, and the company of someone who appreciates you for who you are. When you are surrounded by all three at once, as I was during my first private cello lesson, you have hit the jackpot.

When I arrived at my teacher's home for my lesson two weeks ago, I was extremely nervous. My group lessons had ended in December, and for various reasons, I hadn't practiced much since then. When I finally did attempt to practice a few days before my lesson, I discovered that my cello was hopelessly out of tune, most likely because of the weather and because I hadn't played in a while. Over the past seven months, I've gotten pretty good at tuning, but no matter what I did, I couldn't tune it this time. So, after about an hour of trying, I gave up, hoping against hope that I hadn't broken my cello.

A few minutes after my lesson began, my teacher re-strung my A string and tuned all of my other strings, and my cello sounded better than when I first got it. This is one of the many reasons why it is so important to have a teacher. A cello is a majestic instrument, not a toy, and a good teacher is imperative.

My teacher has seen me struggle with this beautiful, daunting instrument since last June. She can see the minimal progress I've made, and little by little, she's pushing me forward. During our first private lesson, we spent a majority of the time practicing playing while keeping my bow at a 90 degree angle and relaxing my wrist, which are two of the things I struggle with most. My homework is to practice scales and J.S. Bach's Minuet in C, which is supposed to sound like this:

My version is not recognizable yet, but it will be, because I'm not giving up, and because somehow I was fortunate enough to stumble across a fantastic teacher, who lives and breathes cello, and who isn't giving up on me either. And for that, I am eternally grateful.

Six Months and Counting

12/14/2013

It's been a while. I can't say that I've been busy playing the cello, because I haven't. I've been busy with work and volunteering for Smith and Big Sister and Project Literacy, and writing classes, and health issues, and National Novel Writing Month (November), during which I wrote 50,000 words of the first draft of a novel. Every Tuesday night, I attended cello class and stumbled along with my patient classmates, all of whom are better players than I. Needless to say, I did not perform well at the final recital.

Now my group cello classes have ended, and I did not sign up for the next session. It's December in New England, and in order to get both of us (my cello's name is Hana) to our class in one piece, I would have to brave poorly shoveled cobblestone sidewalks, and small mountains of blackened ice, and people who forget how to drive when they see snowflakes. I am not willing to risk breaking my cello and possibly my arm in an attempt to get to a late-night cello class.

Fortunately, all is not lost. My wonderful, incredibly patient cello teacher has offered to give me private lessons, for which I am eternally grateful. But if my teacher is willing to give me private lessons, I have to make practicing the cello a priority again, even if that means only practicing a few minutes a day. My progress is slow and frustrating, and even when I have the time, it's easy to find other things to do. Although my bow hold has improved and I'm no longer in excruciating pain when I play, my wrist movement is still not as fluid as it should be when I'm playing, and my left hand still lacks the coordination and dexterity needed to play properly. Due to the spasticity in my legs, I have difficulty holding the cello in the appropriate position. But I'm sticking with it, because there's no other instrument I'd rather play.

My first cello goal for this winter is to master Adeste Fidelis, which is my favorite Christmas carol. My second goal is to master all of the songs from class that I neglected to master in October and November. My third goal is to be more consistent with this blog, because amazingly enough, people keep asking about it. Thank you for all of your support during this adventure with my cello.

All Cello, All of the Time

9/22/2013

If I could, I would get on a plane tomorrow, fly to Japan, and live there for at least a year. I would immerse myself in the food, culture and language, and ideally, become fluent in Japanese.

I started falling in love with Japanese twenty years ago in college. Someone in my house at Smith was taking it, and I remember being slightly awed by the hiragana, katakana and kanji flashcards that she created. I was taking German at the time (which I also love) but in my opinion, Japanese is the most beautiful written language.

Instead of being brave and adding Japanese to my course schedule, I waited until my senior year and signed up for a Japanese poetry course. Sensei would bring us Japanese sweets every week, and I imagined myself going to Japan some day, sitting under a tree in a park somewhere, and reading those same poems in Japanese instead of English.

Many years after college, I finally took a few Japanese classes, and I can read, write and speak some basic Japanese, but Japanese, like the cello, isn't really something that you can master on a whim. The best way to learn a language, or an instrument, is to surround yourself with it.

Here are some ways that you can immerse yourself in the world of the cello:

1. Rent or buy a cello. There is no substitute for the real thing. And even if there is, get the real thing.

2. Name your cello. It will help build a connection between the two of you, and she will be more forgiving when you do things like squeeze her bow too tightly or accidentally bang her against a pipe in a parking garage. In case you are wondering, my cello's name is Hana, which means flower in Japanese.

3. Attend classes or private lessons with a reputable teacher.

4. Listen to cello music in your car, at home, and at the gym.

5. Pay close attention to the cello parts in car commercials, movies, and law firm ads. You probably never noticed them until you started playing the cello.

6. Invest in a stress ball for your hands. Squeeze and release. Repeat.

7. Do finger exercises when you are stopped at a light or waiting in line at the grocery store.

8. Walk around thinking dead arm, dead arm, trying to get your arm and hands to relax in preparation for playing.

9. Watch famous cellists on You Tube. Pay attention to how they hold their bodies, how they move, how they interact with the cello, and how relaxed their hands are.

10. Head to Symphony Hall, or any other concert venue, and experience a live cello performance.

11. If you've never done yoga or any other physical activity, now is the time to start. People who are physically fit can avoid things like repetitive stress injuries or back problems which can develop if you are not careful.

12. Start a cello blog, or photo gallery, or paint pictures of your cello. A cello is already a work of art. Make it your own.

13. Downloaded part of the Bach Cello Suites or any other famous cello music as the ring tone on your phone. When telemarketers call you, your irritation will be tempered by the beautiful sound of the cello.

14. Change your Facebook profile photo to something cello-related. That way, every time you access Facebook, you will remember that you should not be on Facebook. You should be practicing the cello.

15. Start a cello club for staff and students at work. You might be the only person in the club, but eventually your enthusiasm will rub off on others, and soon enough, you'll have an ensemble.

16. Order sheet music for songs that keep you motivated to practice them, like Christmas carols, or the theme song from the Addams Family.

17. Try to practice every day, even if it's only for a few minutes. (Insert your cello's name here) is counting on you to show the world what she can really do.

18. Record yourself practicing so that afterwards, you can analyze your playing and do better next time.

So far, this immersion method is working for me, and maybe it will for you too. Every day, I fall more in love with my cello, and little by little, my tone and confidence are improving. Just yesterday, at our local Town Day, I was invited to join the community orchestra. I declined; I'm not anywhere near ready for anything remotely akin to an orchestra, but one of these days I'll get there, and one of these days, I'll get to Japan too.

A Concert for the Construction Crew: Duet for Cello and Electric Drill

9/14/2013

I am a beginner cellist. I am also a rape survivor. In 2001, a stranger broke into my house and attacked me. Almost twelve years later, in a different house and a different town, I do not open the windows very often, and over the summer, I quickly became acquainted with the phenomenon known as "slippery cello."

When a cello is sliding all over the place because the person playing it is sweating profusely, it is very difficult to play, but I persevered, because even though it was 100 degrees in my house, there was no way I was opening the windows. I did not want anyone to hear me playing, and even now, I worry that if I install an air conditioner, it will just give someone another way to break in.

So, I bought an endpin strap for my cello, which kept it from slipping so much, and I only practiced for short periods of time. When it got too hot, or my hands started to hurt, I would go for a walk, go to a movie, or drive somewhere. And little by little, my hands relaxed, and the songs I played became almost recognizable.

And then one day, one of my new and more accomplished cellist friends said, "One of the things I enjoy most about playing the cello is opening the windows wide and letting the sound soar through the neighborhood." I laughed, incapable of imagining my version of Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star soaring anywhere, and I went home to practice. I did not open the windows.

Several weeks later, shortly after I noticed that someone down the street had started learning how to play the trumpet, a construction crew appeared on my front steps, and began ripping them out and rebuilding them. I waited until after they'd left to practice the cello. They came again the next weekend, and again I waited until they left before I attempted to practice.

Last weekend, they showed up again, and I decided that I was brave enough to play for them, whether they wanted me to or not. So, I opened the windows, and I played Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star, Jingle Bells, and the bass line of Pachelbel's Canon.* I'd play a few notes, and they'd drill: Twinkle, Twinkle, Drill, Little, Drill, Star, and so on. When I finished playing, they didn't clap, but they didn't hiss at me either. I have no idea whether they realized that I was playing for them, but they are here again today, so it's time for me to open the windows and play my cello.

* You are supposed to play the bass line of Pachelbel 54 times, but I figured that 10 was good enough.

Lonely? Rent a Cello

8/27/2013

I have lived in the Boston area for almost 20 years. In my experience, the general rule here is: Don't talk to strangers, ever. If you do attempt to greet people on the street, they will A) Ignore you B) Look at you as if you are crazy, or C) Immediately cross the street to get away from you.

But rules are made to be broken. And people in the Greater Boston area will talk to you if and only if the following are true:

1. You are holding a newborn.
2. You have a puppy, or, even better, you are a puppy.
3. You are one of those mimes dressed as a frozen Statue of Liberty in Harvard Square, and they are trying to get you to talk.
4. You are attending a Red Sox, Patriots, Bruins, or Celtics game and/or you, like they, are slightly inebriated.
5. We have just had a snowstorm.
6. We have just experienced a tragedy like September 11th or the Boston Marathon bombings.
7. You are carrying or playing a guitar or a cello.

I do not have a newborn. I do not have a puppy. I am not a puppy or a mime. I rarely attend professional sporting events, I don't drink, and it is August, so there is no snow on the ground. Until a few months ago, people around here rarely spoke to me. But the first time I walked out of my house with a cello, my neighbor, whom I'd never spoken to before, said "Hello" as he walked by. I almost dropped my cello. Later, as I headed to cello class, other strangers smiled at me.

Recently, when leaving cello class very late at night, someone came up behind me and said, "What you got there?" I instantly thought the worst, and prepared to scream and/or run. Then I remembered that I was carrying a cello on my back, and I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. I told him that it was a cello, and he and I and his group of friends stood around in the dark and talked about how they play the cello too, and how much they love it. This happens everywhere I go now.

So, if you are feeling lonely and you are not a puppy, or you don't have a puppy or a newborn to accompany you around town, and you have no interest in sports, internet dating or creepy Statue of Liberty mimes, rent a cello.* I guarantee that if you put it on your back and walk around with it for a few minutes, you will start meeting new people. You don't even have to learn to play it, but if you do, your social circle will increase exponentially, every other aspect of your life will improve, and you will never be bored or lonely again.

*Johnson Strings

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