Stuck in Dallas, with a 2.5 hour layover. I had plenty to do, but I really wanted to practice. I have a recital one week from tonight, and so much to improve between now and then. My fingers were already feeling a bit stiff, and my instrument, nestled next to me, was begging to be let out of its case, like a puppy out of a cage. "Take me out--play me," it begged. Here?? In public??!
Well, I did it. I found a quiet, out of the way spot in the Dallas/Fort Worth International aiport, pulled out my violin case, and practiced! It’s so unlike me. I’m your classic introvert (although I fooled people, sometimes). I don’t like to make waves, to be noticed, to be a nuisance.
I asked first. There were a couple of TSA officials on break, and I asked if they thought anyone would mind--they thought I was a bit crazy. But after extracting a promise that they would tell me if I was being a bother, I went through with it. (Anyone else done anything like this?)
I’m really glad I did. I chose the entry to a gate that looked like it was out of service. But just as I was getting my violin out, a young airline attendant in uniform came through, parked the wheelchair he was pushing, and sat down in it. He was waiting for the next flight to arrive--at that gate. “10 minutes or so,” he said. I asked if he would mind, and he answered, “Of course not! Please, go ahead.” So I did.
Brahms Violin Sonata No. 1 in G major, 1st movement (without the partner piano). An attempt to be soft (I forgot my practice mute at home--really wish I hadn’t.) At first, the young attendant was preoccupied with the ubiquitous cell phone. I worked by memory until I got stuck, not paying much attention to him. But as I glanced over, I realized he wasn’t tied to the tiny black box any more. He seemed to be gazing out of the window, lost in thought. In fact, he appeared to be listening intently.
My memory failed me, and I had to stop to retrieve the printed music from my case. “You’re really good,” he volunteered. Went on to say that his little sister, age 9, has just started taking violin lessons from a local teacher. "She's really good." His dad wanted him to take up an instrument, but he always refused. Now, in his early 20's (I’m guessing), he was starting to regret that decision..
After I finished the movement, we talked for a few minutes. I told him about why I was practicing, where I was headed, about At First Sight, and Chamber Music Weekend, how long they have been running, and how much I enjoy them. He told me he wished he had taken up an instrument, and that he hoped his sister would succeed. We talked about not letting fear get in your way, or failure, either. Of persisting, even when it's difficult. Of doing things because of beauty.
He went on to say, “You obviously have a passion for this. That’s so great to see. It’s so important.”
- -pause- - -
Thank you, sir. I don’t know who you are, and you don’t know who I am. You also have no idea how afraid I’ve been to make this journey. But I do have a passion. I’ve been given a passion for people and for music, and the opportunities to make good on that passion. I’m humbled by the reminder that many people haven’t had those choices, those possibilities, those chances; by the impact my passion can have on others.
As I put my violin back into its case, I thanked him for being my audience. “My pleasure,” he responded. “I loved it--it was, like, my Valentine’s date!”
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