Rubber bands and the Music of the Heart
An instrument always starts with rubber bands. You’re six years old and you want to play the guitar like your dad. He helps you find a tissue box. You yank out all the tissue, and suddenly, the guitar’s body is in your hands. It still needs a neck and some strings. Your daddy goes to the paper towel rack and unrolls the remaining paper towels, neatly folding and piling them onto the counter so Mommy doesn’t get too upset. You have a guitar neck.
Finally, you grab the rubber bands. Cutting them and sticking them over the open space in the tissue bo… guitar body… your instrument is complete. Cradling it in your arms like Daddy does, you hesitantly twang the blue rubber band. A note! Music! Your very first song. Daddy smiles back at you proudly: his little musician has found her music.
Music is the smile or tear of our soul’s trembles. Without it, it almost wouldn’t seem right to call ourselves human. We strum our guitar strings, we tweet our piccolos, we blast our trombones, we ripple our fingers over the ivory keys of a piano. Our violin strings accompany our hottest tears and our loudest laughs. Our banjos, harps and flutes: all of them allow us to create the notes that form the melody of our lives. Music is emotion, and our instruments are the catalyst. They are invaluable in our search for the tune of our lives.
Until he or she has an instrument, every musician, from the screeching newbie to the aged master, is silent. An instrument in our hands brings us the music that satisfies our ears and our hearts. Without them, we would live in desperate tension, our joys and sorrows trapped inside our heads—a music-less prison. It is no wonder, then, that there is often a deep connection with the instruments that set our hearts free. Every musician has a story of an instrument that accompanies him or her throughout life’s memories. Here are the stories to those songs.
* * *
Cheap in price and sound, Chelsea Inglish’s first guitar didn’t seem worth much fuss. But after precariously propping it against a wall only to hear it crash to the floor as she walked away, there were an abundance of tears.
“I bawled,” she says.
Fortunately, she soon realized it meant that it was time for a new, better, one. She finally found a store selling guitars for 40% off and bought the guitar that has since brought her through many trying times in her life.
“Marty is beautiful,” says Inglish about her mellow-sounding Martin guitar with a satin finish. “I love how Marty sounds.”
Ever since learning a few chords from her classmates in 7th grade, Inglish and Marty have woven a beautiful harmony together. She loves to make good music with her college friends as well as play her guitar for special music or song service at church. Playing is both soothing and exciting for her, a remedy for loneliness and a form of expression.
“Emotions are the reason I play,” she says. Whether she’s lonely, happy and content, sad, depressed or stressed, Marty has been her emotional outlet for several years. He probably will be for several more to come.
Growing up in Romania, Octavian Poenaru began violin lessons at the age of seven and has played for over 40 years since then. In the beginning, though, he says if it weren’t for the tears he saw in his father’s eyes, he would have stopped playing. It’s a good thing he didn’t.
One time, while Poenaru was in the jungles of Tanzania, he wanted to teach health classes at a local school but was being restricted by the hostility of some of the teachers. He decided that he would take out his violin and play for the kids. A few days later, the school’s director came up to him and asked if he would like to teach them music. The people didn’t know music and had no instruments.
“It opened my way to the hearts and minds of those people,” he says.
Poenaru now lives in Vermont and finds great pleasure in playing the violin with his son and blessing others at church with his talents. He says that his instrument has helped him to give satisfaction and find personal joy throughout his life.
“It is a very expressive instrument, fits some of my personality, and can express profound feelings,” he says. “[It is] another part of myself.”
Twenty-four year old Scott David Kabel became a man in a Hong Kong airport with Shannon, his Taylor 414CE guitar, faithfully at his side. Due to the necessity for a third check-in piece of luggage, no way to pay the $200 fee, and some resistance from the Korean Air employees, he was facing some serious difficulties.
“I have always been afraid of being pushy,” he says.
However, because of the helpful example of some wise people he knew, he realized that if he could just ask enough of the right questions, the workers would run out of excuses. The problem was that this was the exact thing he had never done before and was afraid to attempt. But he had no choice. He decided to keep asking for help.
Finally, after a lecture from the manager, she waived the fee and allowed him to board with all three pieces of luggage. The catch was that either his guitar or the CDs would not be insured.
“In the end, I decided to risk losing Shannon,” he says. “I knew she was strong. I knew she could handle it. And she did, while I became a man.”
Scott Kabel’s guitar, a surprise gift from his summer camp co-workers, was brought home safely to continue bringing smiles and joy to many of his friends during college. He would frequently sing and play in small circles of admirers or for larger crowds scattered over a hillside. His songs came from his heart and were an expression of the love he had for people—and witnesses to the love people have for him.
For Laurie Minner, her violin of 35 years is the tangible connection to her first childhood teacher. She describes him as an old Russian man who fixed up factory-bought violins and resold them.
“This is the real connection to the man who formed me as a violinist—the tangible connection,” Minner says. “But the violin is part of the legacy, my instrumental voice that he left me with when I play this in public.”
Now a music teacher and orchestra conductor herself, she finds great pleasure in playing both her violin and viola, though doesn’t often find herself picking them up to play for relaxation.
“I have kind of an occupational hazard because I do music so much,” she says. “Music to me is work. Music for me is serious business.”
Demonstrating to students a difficult section of a piece or the correct tone to use several times a day can be taxing. But Minner’s first love is music and she finds joy in the music itself. Singing and collaborating musically with friends and colleagues is “where the best part of music-making comes together.”
Her old Russian violin teacher would be proud of his pupil. Minner’s passion for music will live on in the hearts of hundreds of students as they continue to express themselves with their instruments.
Rachel Miller was born to play the harp. She fell in love with it at the age of three when she saw someone playing in the lobby of an old bank in Boston.
“All I remember is a beautiful dress, beautiful lady, beautiful instrument—and a sound that I will never forget,” she says. “I wanted to be her.”
Fast-forward 17 years and Miller is studying harp at Michigan State University after more than a decade of living her dream. It wasn’t easy, what with an expensive instrument that is not only large, but also relatively uncommon, and three-hour commutes to lessons while she was a kid. She says staying with the harp has been tough at times, but she chose the instrument and is determined to keep doing her best.
Being able to inspire and bless others is one thing she loves about her instrument. She has played for weddings, funerals, church services, banquets and “any time of celebration you can think of.” Nursing homes are her favorite, however, with kindergarten classes coming in just behind.
“They appreciate it the most, out of anyone I’ve ever played for,” she says.
Once, she remembers playing a duet with her flutist friend and bringing both of their mothers to tears. The music they had played was music from their parents’ weddings.
“I remember feeling really proud of us that day,” she says, “Not only because we played the notes on the page well, but because we were able to see the results of our music: we brought our mothers to a happy memory of theirs.”
Miller’s favorite place to play is in her cozy living room—with bare feet and sweatpants on. She also enjoys playing in empty churches where she is able to “pour out” and feel refreshed afterward. Her emotions play a big role in how she performs on a given day.
If she is angry, she will go work on an “angry” section of music and the music will be all the more effective. On the other hand, sometimes her performance suffers if she’s had a hard day in her personal life, for example.
“Music is emotion,” she says. “So if you don’t have it, your music is pretty flat. So much of how I feel and how I play are intertwined.”
Sometimes it is difficult for her to remember why she is still playing the harp. Most of the time she loves to play and finds great reward in performing and practicing. But on some days, the stress of learning her pieces and the pressure of playing them perfectly, as well as the long hours spent and the sacrifices made along the way, seem overwhelming. However, just as so many musicians have done in the past, she picks up her instrument once again. And once again, falls in love.
“I’ve used it for so long as my vessel of expression,” she says. “Finding a substitute for that would be like trying to find myself a new body.”
There are many more stories of people who would agree with Miller. While ultimately it is the music that counts the most as an expression of our thoughts and feelings, it is the instrument that makes the music possible. Whether it is playing a guitar in front of summer camp children, a violin in the solitude of a bedroom, or a harp in front of a demanding teacher, the music comes from a direct connection between musician and instrument.
The relationship between the artist and his or her instrument is the difference between noise and music. When the music becomes an extension of one’s heart and soul, for a moment, the distinction between the instrument and the player is forgotten. The two have been fused into one.
3 comments:
so glad you put up the article, was really good! def looks like you got enough music loving people to give you some feedback...keep the amazing writing coming!
nailed it.
I sent this one to violin weekly with my name on it! Haha sucker! JK, but I would if I could, good job.
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