At the book-signing a mom approaches me with her daughter who looks to be about four. She has purchased my book, “The Violin Family”and her daughter, Saskia, is carrying it to the table for me to sign. I ask her name and we chat about her brother, who plays the viola. She is animated in that sparkly way that only a four year old can be. When there is a pause in the conversation I know the perfect filler, “Frozen II.” I ask her if she has seen it and she fixes a gaze on me that says “duh” without words. We talk about Ana vs Elsa, she corrects me about which character actually wears the side-braid, then off they go.
A few days later I'm headed to Waits River school where I have been invited to read and bring instruments for grades K-5 at the school where my friend, Tom, teaches music. Paul has kindly agreed to make the trip with me: I have plied him with an offer of stopping at a well known truck stop for pie on the way home. I need him to help the young readers try their choice of some violin-family instruments in a variety of sizes (we aim to please), I need his support as I make this first trip to a school to read my book and frankly, I need him to sherpa.
We make our way into the school library and I'm struck by the wonderful, familiar smell of schools; hot lunch somehow always cooking and books, blessed books. In the library it feels a bit like Lilliput as we dwarf the small tables and chairs. I toss my winter coat over a chair, completely covering it.
The first group of kids come in and plop on the floor in front of where I'm stationed. I'm going to begin by playing some cello and have instrument in hand, so they keep moving closer until they ring around my endpin. One of the teachers gets their attention by doing some clapping that they all then mimic with their hands. A good rhythmic beginning.
I start to read and they are rapt. Every few minutes one of them asks a question or makes comment about their family and how their dog likes to eat music or how their mom bought them a guitar but their sister stepped on it...here they pause and look at the ceiling in deep thought before reporting that they are pretty sure she did it on purpose..
Life is about the journey and about the training - I have four sons to whom I spent hours reading. I speak violin, viola and can do it all in a French accent if the need arises. I talk softly when the characters are sad but can bellow with the best of them. I have been in training for this moment for years.
After reading, the students were delighted to spend some time with Luthier Paul trying instruments. Although he didn't wear his apron - Paul was completely recognizable from the book. When I introduced him as one of the characters he non nonchalantly lifted his hand to wave to the kids as they cheered but I could see a bit of color rise in his cheeks...
Students lifted violins under their chins, others laughed as they made a half-size cello talk with its lowest voice. Some of them had never seen a stringed instrument and my cello was as foreign to them as if I had walked in with a wolf on a leash. The experience was everything I had hoped for; an introduction and brief education in strings.
I stood with my cello in a receiving line of sorts as the students lined up to walk out the door. They alternately high-fived me and/or patted my instrument. As one young reader passed he stopped, tipped his head back to look right in my eyes and said “Oh, I wish you could bring that cello to my home.” Then smiled and got back into his line headed for hot lunch.
A week later I was at the pre-school of the little girl with whom I had chatted at the book signing. When I walked in, my arms full instruments, I got an excited greeting from even smaller children with even tinier chairs. I played a little Mozart (Twinkle) for them and they sang along. I'm not sure when I have been much happier than this; having my cello in my hands, sitting next to a terrarium with a box turtle in it, surrounded by children who understand music with their hearts and are not afraid to sing aloud.
However, I did become just a tiny bit happier when Soskia came over to me, put her little hand on my cello and whispered into my ear that, above all, she had noticed and liked that I had worn my hair in an Elsa braid.
Score.
Melissa Perley