First Violin Recital
A read-aloud story for families
Life this month is like a five-part Bach fugue: so much happening at once! The kids are growing like weeds—and, speaking of weeds—I cleared my backyard last week and planted grass after having some large trees taken out earlier this spring. At my main job as a non-profit program director we secured a prestigious grant that will allow us to launch a multi-year build-out for fatherhood programs in the Pacific Northwest. In my gig with the Erie Philharmonic I played a concert of Beatles music and another of Verdi’s Requiem. I also dressed up in 1899 garb and played viola as an extra for a historic film that is in production in my area. I am wrapping up a couple of writing projects as well and got an exciting request to have one of my Bach articles translated and published in the Netherlands!
I have some exciting posts coming up here on The Musical Father, but today I wanted to share a short story I wrote for my younger siblings some time ago. I shared a story from the same collection here a few months ago, and folks seemed to enjoy it. The first one was about the day my brothers and I got our violins from the violin shop (check out that story here if you missed it). Today’s story is about another exciting day in any musical family: our first recital.
“Ouch!” cried Alex.
“Come here, and don’t be a baby. It doesn’t hurt that bad,” said Mom.
“Yes it does,” Drew backed up Alex. “It always does when you comb our hair. Feels like you’re scalping us.”
“Oh, come on. I’m being so gentle it couldn’t hurt a . . .”
“OUCH!” Those plastic bristles on the comb felt as sharp as needles to Alex, and struggling only made it worse. Mom held his face with her hand to keep him from pulling away, and he tried to stand still so she would not squeeze too hard. As always, it was over in seconds, and he ran away to put on his dress pants and shoes.
It was the big day for Drew and Alex: their first violin recital. After a few months of lessons with Mrs. Thompson and daily practice with Mom, they were both ready to perform “Twinkle Variation A.” They had already passed the “Monkey Song,” the “Flower Song,” and the “A” and “E String Concertos.” Their first “Twinkle Variation” felt like the next level: a real song!
Drew and Alex both wore navy blue dress pants with brown and blue belts. They wore dress shirts with button-down collars. To top it all off, they put on cardigan sweaters and penny loafers. Dad said they were “looking sharp,” a compliment that always made Alex’s day.
Mom told them to double-check that they had their violins, their bows, and their sponges. They did, so Dad drove the family into Columbus. The building they were going to perform in looked simple from the outside and had a funny name: GRAVES. The boys had been on a walk through a graveyard before, and this place seemed to have nothing to do with graves.
Inside, there were pianos everywhere. Whole rooms with high ceilings filled with pianos of all sizes and colors. Dad seemed to like the place, perhaps because beautiful wood pianos reminded him of beautiful wood windows. He found out that the place was a piano store, but that they had a little concert hall for people to try pianos in, or for people to rent for concerts. That was where the boys would perform.
There were chairs like in a movie theater with seats that folded down but sprang back up as soon as you stood up again. There was a light wood stage with three big black pianos on it. And there sat Mrs. Thompson at the middle piano, tuning little violinists who were in a single-file line leading up to her piano.
Drew and Alex unpacked and joined the line, being careful not to drop their violins on the way. Mrs. Thompson had taught them to always hold their violins in either rest position or playing position. “Violins are precious and fragile, like a baby.”
Matthew watched the string of violinists with bright eyes and saw one little girl who was not much bigger than he was. He knew his time would come. Matthew hummed along as the performance began. He recognized all of the songs from the Suzuki tape.
Each little performer would walk up and take a bow. Mrs. Thompson would help them get set up just right if needed, then she would sit down at the piano and play their introduction. Each violinist would play their song, then take another bow, some smiling proudly at their parents, and some offering a dazed expression, deep in what Mom called “la-la land.” Mrs. Thompson taught both violin and piano, so many little pianists played as well.
As Alex waited, he looked at the back of his violin. It was a nice reddish-orange color and had a beautiful flame pattern on the back, what woodworkers call “curl.” He ran the back of his fingers over the violin like it was a baby’s cheek.
Waiting can be the hardest part of a recital, especially given a boy’s tendency to need to pee just when there is no more time to go and get back in time. Most children do not get very nervous (that comes later once you are an adult), but they do get a little impatient sometimes.
Drew was up! It was really happening. He was one of those cool little violinists he had seen years ago. He had prayed, and now it was time to just play. Mrs. Thompson sounded like an orchestra behind him on that introduction to “Twinkle Variation A.” Mississippi Hot-Dog, Mississippi Hot-Dog . . .
Alex thought Drew sounded pretty good. Before he knew it, Drew was done, and Alex realized that it was his turn. He clopped up to the front in his loafers, right past Drew, who was on his way down. They almost clonked violins, almost.
Now Alex looked down from the stage at many smiles and a wide-eyed, fuzzy-headed Matthew. Most of the audience was a blur, but he noticed an organ at the back of the room, and wanted to count the pipes. There were glass windows on the left side of the room overlooking the hall, and somebody walked by.
Alex threw his violin up to his shoulder and waited for the introduction with his bow on the string. It started, and Alex waited patiently. Those few seconds seemed to take forever, and he nearly jumped in too soon. It was “Mississippi Hot-Dog Twinkle” again, but it was all Alex’s now. Open A, open E, finger one, open E.
Alex remembered all four parts of the song, which Mrs. Thompson had named Bread, Peanut Butter, Jelly, and Bread. Each “Twinkle Variation” was a sandwich. The Jelly part was an echo of the Peanut Butter, with a soft dynamic. This made sense to Alex because Mom always put more peanut butter on his sandwich than jam.
Alex finished and stuffed the violin confidently back under his arm for the bow. “Hip-po-pot-a-mus,” he whispered to himself as he bent down and looked at the shiny pennies in his loafers. Mrs. Thompson had taught him all kinds of tricks: saying hippopotamus made sure he stayed down just the right amount of time.
As Alex took a seat he bonked his violin by accident, but he was too happy to notice. His violin was okay anyway. He nestled back into the seat, but not too far, otherwise it would start to fold up with him in it.
Drew, Alex, and Matthew listened to the lineup of violinists as the performers got older and more advanced. The boys were very impressed and were excited to play those harder songs themselves someday. Just as the recital started to seem too long and a bit boring, the last person played and it was time to pack back up.
The rest of the day, Drew and Alex both felt a little different. They went about doing normal, fun things around their house, but they often thought of those moments on stage, and they felt changed.
They were violinists. Little did they know that they had not simply started a new hobby, but had begun a new life that would forever coincide with their lives as country boys. What a beautiful pairing it would be: music and nature, and a very good start to it all.
Thank you for reading! I hope you will share this story with your loved ones if it brings back good memories or gives you good ideas for the future. If you play an instrument, what do you remember about your first recital or performance? If you are a father or mother, what are you doing to make sure your children get to enjoy the experience of performing?
Our daughter in law has a recital for her students next weekend. I’ll be passing this along and perhaps she will also to her piano students. Thanks for the smiles this brings.