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And with those words, my mother dashed my hopes of becoming the next Tommy Lee, sans the monster sch ... well, you-know-what.
A coltish freckled third grader, I gazed with pleading doe-eyes up at my mother as the tears ran down my cheeks, listening to her demand that I pick up a "quiet" instrument.
"But mo-ommmm ... I just want to play the drums!"
It was no use. She would just not budge on her position.
The next day at school, I went in the music teacher, Mr. Green (affectionately known as "Mr. Greenjeans" amongst my classmates, due to the uber-tight jeans he wore on an almost daily basis) to let him know that I had, albeit begrudgingly, selected to start violin lessons the following school year.
For something that I picked up involuntarily, I actually ended up sticking with the violin for many years.
In elementary school, I clumsily noodled around with the Suzuki method for a year, managing to take revenge on my mother by making her ears bleed from my cat-in-heat rendition of "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star." Take that, mom! Quiet? I showed you! In fifth grade, I auditioned for and was accepted into a statewide youth orchestra, and for our final performance I somehow managed to convince my mother to buy me my first pair of high heels ("high" being 2 1/2 inches, roughly) and tarted it up on stage the best I could.
In junior high school, I performed as a soloist for my eighth grade concert and managed to get my first (and only, thus far) case of stage fright. If I had been able to look out into the crowd (the lights were too blinding, alas), I would have been able to picture them naked in their party socks, and the butterflies would have subsided. Being an eighth grader, I had not yet discovered the tension-numbing effects of whiskey, so I had to cope with the nausea the best I could and try not to vomit on stage.
In high school, I spent four years in the school's orchestra, mastering such classics as the Pachebel Canon, the Bach Double Violin Concerto and Handel's Water Music. On top of that, I also spent those years in my school's pit orchestra for the yearly spring musicals, grinding my way through such classics as Fiddler on the Roof, West Side Story and Guys & Dolls. Guys & Dolls was especially interesting - that spring, I fell in lust with the tall, dashing, brawny footballer who played Nathan Detroit. Sadly, he did not return my affections ... and a few years ago I heard through the grapevine that he came out of the closet. I always knew how to pick the inaccessible hunks!
For all of you who are asking, "what does all of this have to do with June, Tara? What's the deal? Get to the point, woman!" Well, June 17th was International Violin Day, if you can believe it. To celebrate, I picked up my fiddle, rosined up my bow, got in front of the camera and cranked out a rousing rendition of Greensleeves. Then had a beer.
Do I still dream about playing the drums? Sure. Hell, maybe one of these days my roommate will get home from work to find me naked, high and playing the bongos, a la Matthew McConaughey.
You just never know with me!
Happy June, everyone!
xoxo
- Tara
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