A Musician's Requiem

I originally told myself that I would keep my personal and professional self separate, but I am finding that both are so tightly intertwined that sometimes one bleeds over into the next.  So with that said, it is with a heavy heart that I write this blog post.

Once upon a time, when I was a very young girl, I was introduced to music by a most wonderful couple who shared the orchestra classes between 4th and 12th grades-- she taught the younger grades, and he taught us in full orchestra for the last several years of our schooling.  There were times that it was questionable, at best, but as I grew, year by year, I realized I had a deep-rooted love of music.  Being an "orch dork" wasn't a dirty secret, it was a mark of pride.

I had stayed in touch, and even continued to play long after graduation, when practice cards and audition tapes were a thing of the past.  I found a home within the subtle nuances in music.  A little extra pressure on the bow, or a slight vibrato could infuse emotion to your notes.

He taught me that.

Even now when I write, I play a soundtrack of familiar pieces and composers.  Mozart is especially dear to me, because of my early teachings.  I normally play Mozart's Requiem in D minor and allow myself to feel the emotion in the movements.  The audible sobbing in the Lacrimosa, the building flames and torment in the Confutatis, these are all feelings I might have missed without his guidance.

However, tonight I listen to the Requiem without the excitement of a musician.  It is truly the funeral mass as originally composed.

I received word that my dear teacher passed away today, losing his battle to cancer.  No more viola jokes (How do you protect your violin from being stolen?  Put it in a viola case!  Ha!), or random musical or Star Trek trivia.  I may have forgotten what I learned in high school algebra class, but I still remember what it was like to sit in the music department, to smell the rosin dust and play beautiful music.  I may not have had a salvageable GPA in high school if not for orchestra, sad as that is!  Music kept me grounded then, and it keeps me grounded now.

I may have wandered away from the musician's course-- I can't remember the last time I pulled my poor viola out of the closet, after all-- but my lessons still stick with me.

Thank you for the fantastic memories.  Godspeed, sir.