Fresh into the semester, the school scheduled their annual talent show as a way to celebrate diversity and encourage camaraderie within the student body. Every student is invited to audition and the talent can range from playing musical instrument, singing, juggling, visual arts and other forms of entertainment deemed by the committee as appropriate. My daughter told me and I excitedly said she should play her cello since she’s stepped away from it. Nooooooo! “What kind of response is that?” Well, I don’t want everyone to know I play! “It’s not like you are belching out Mary had a Little Lamb; you spent over half your life learning and playing the instrument and you play beautifully.” There was a lot of back and forth and mostly her telling me she doesn’t want to do it for emotional reasons.
Eventually, I convinced her to consider doing something so that her reputation precedes her. “You’re already known to be a Women in Power member and organized a march during school hours with a walk-out demonstration. Your classmates know you as a nerd. Why not smash the stereotype of a book smart, shit-disturber that people who don’t know you may have? Show them this side of your humanity. Show them you can quiet the world and hold a bow with poise. Show them you can command an audience of 500 from the stage and capture their attention even if for only 90 seconds. Share with your peers and teachers (and future teachers) what has captured your interest for so many years and play a piece to celebrate the sounds of a cello. Besides, I have never met a person who didn’t like the sound of a cello.”
Next day, she put her name on the sign-up sheet for audition. I asked her what piece she was playing. She said, Berceuse by Schubert. Brave. Bold. And beautiful. Then I asked if she’d be interested in taking an adhoc lesson with her former cello teacher and can rehearse that piece and practice together. She did. She played other pieces as well during that hour long lesson. Her instructor was immensely pleased that she hadn’t completely put the bow down.
The audience was silent. She took her seat at center stage and fastened her endpin anchor. The audience was waiting. Anticipating. Wanting. It’s as if the cello commands a level of reverence which she is now requiring. Nay, demanding.
On the morning of the talent show, the school was assembled. The roster was put in order and all the instruments and props were readied. One by one, a student would ascend to the stage and demonstrate their talent. Then my daughter’s turn came. She walked slowly and confidently on stage, as she had done many times during recitals and concerts. Calmly, she walked over to her instrument and picked up her cello by the neck and waist whilst holding the bow, just like a seasoned cellist. The audience watched in silence. She returned and took her seat at center stage and fastened her endpin anchor. The audience was waiting. Anticipating. Wanting. It’s as if the cello commands a level of reverence which she is now requiring. Nay, demanding. Only the resonance of the strings can satisfy the collective expectation for music to follow.
My daughter started with the half B note and went from there. Her tempo was measured and she slowed where the piece demanded contemplation and her vibrato accentuated the whole notes. She finished with a long bow, stood up and took a long bow. She was showered with thunderous applause. The audience saw a completely different side of her character which is now momentarily eclipsed by this intense presence.
“How did you feel?” I asked when I picked her up from school. It was wonderful dad. Now everyone in school knows who I am and all it took was playing the cello for two minutes. “I’m glad you played for them. But more importantly, I’m glad you found a venue to express who you are.” Her cello teacher once said to her that musicians play because they must, but former music students play because they can. It’s a different kind of music appreciation. And she still does.
