When we lived in Vangroovy, friends of ours lived the basement apartment of the house we rented on John St. One day Corey announced he was taking up the violin. At the tender age of 20something when most violinists start at 8 years of age, Corey began his musical career. It was fun to hear Corey sawing away in the basement, and both Peter and I would silently cheer him on as he made his way through a barely recognisable Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. That is when I knew what my parents felt all those years ago when I would plink my way through "Lion in the Long Grass' on the piano in the basement.
Now we are on the other coast, and we are again sharing a house with a musician. Tiffany lives in the loft apartment upstairs, and she is working on her Master's degree in Ethnomusicology. But to get a Master's degree in music you first has to have a Bachelor's, which means that she plays a little better than Corey used to. Her instrument is the cello, and Friday mornings are her time to practice. Mostly she does fingering exercises which I don't profess to understand, because when you play the piano you either hit the key or you don't. (mostly I didn't) Occasionally you can hear the cello part for a quartet or a symphony and with a little imagination, you can fill in all the other parts and it sounds really nice. Last week though she treated us to a very rousing rendition of Three Blind Mice. Only she plays it sadly, like gypsy music.
Peter and I both thought of Corey at the same time. And laughed.
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