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Monday, May 4, 2009
Oh Had I Jubal’s Lyre
Recently, I was filling out a form which asked me about my musical experience. I did my best to fill it out as completely as possible, starting from the beginning. I realized as I detailed my musical exprience, which dates back to 1990 when I first began to play the flute, that I had almost non-stop involvement in music for sixteen years. I stopped taking lessons and being involved in the Portland Symphonic Choir in early 2006 when I got sick, and then I just didn’t go back to it.
I can’t say that I haven’t missed it since then. I have missed it terribly. It made it hurt a bit and helped me to miss it even more when I realized how present it had been during my formitive years, and how much of my identity was tied up in it.
I can’t say that I’ve ever been a particularly talented musician. I could hold my own in band on the flute, and by merit of a small section could also keep up when I played the oboe. Choir was my joy, though. I started that in high school because I needed an extra elective, not expecting that I would fall in love the way that I did. Dr. Dwight Uphaus was the teacher there at the time, and he was so goofy that he kept me entertained, so earnest that he kept me interested and so encouraging that he kept me involved. I went to solo contest that year as the only freshman who was in the competition itself – I was getting a real score. If I remember right, I got a II+, which wasn’t too shabby for a frosh who had never sung for a competition before. I remember being terrified. My throat dried up and I sang the entire song feeling like my mouth was stuffed with cotton. Somehow, though, “Christopher Robin Is Saying His Prayers” came off and I was charming enough that the judge gave me more than a nod and a smile afterward. She talked to me and gave me some pointers about what I could do better.
I remember moments like that, moments of triumph even as I feel like I’m on the verge of failure, and I feel a little wistful. It’s been three years since I felt the challenge of learning a new piece, of pushing my voice to what I think is its limit and then going just that little bit further and finding emotion where I thought none existed. It’s been three years since I felt the thrill of a tight harmony. I’ve missed it these three years, but one thing or another kept me from actually going back to it. First I was breaking up with a boyfriend, then I was moving, then I was settling in, then I was finding a new teacher, then I was struggling with mild depression, then I was starting a new job. After that… well, what has my excuse been this last year? I don’t have one now. I don’t think I ever really had one. I have a keyboard and a stack of music books at home. Why did’t I teach myself something?
I took steps recently to acquire a music teacher to get myself back to lessons. My voice is so out of shape now that I think I would only damage it if I tried to work myself the way that I’m used to doing. I found the Cleveland Institute of Music online and found that they had a “continuing education” section. Tuition seems reasonable (an 18-week session averages to about $25 per week, which seems good to me since it is a school, not a freelancing teacher). The summer session is shorter at only six weeks, which means it should run much shorter. I filled out an application form on the site and received an email back last week from the department chair clarifying some things and making preliminary plans for me to start up with lessons in the summer session, which starts on June 8.
It’s been three years since I got sick and had to leave the Portland Symphonic Choir, and three years since I stopped taking lessons. I’m glad to be getting back to music, even if it’s something so simple as starting to take voice lessons again. It feels like I’m getting some of myself back.
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