My first fiddle recital came off pretty good. I got through the one piece I had memorized thoroughly (having practiced it at least a hundred times) just fine and only momentarily got lost in the second, less-memorized one (dueting with another adult learner) and was able to find a place where I could jump back in.
Teacher was happy, but I expected him to be. He tends to exaggerate my progress, but, as Mrs. Charm says, “Would you rather he criticized you all the time?” Of course not. I just get suspicious when I’m always “awesome” and “excellant.” Of course some sort of criticism usually follows.
Fortunately, Mrs. C. videoed excerpts with her iPhone, so I got to see two problems that need correcting. I was hunched over as if trying to hide behind the music stand and it was as if my poor bow had shrunk to a few inches long I was using so little of it. “More bow, more bow,” the everlasting fiddle teacher reminder.
The best part was the adolescent Mr. Boy whom Mrs. C. decided to drag along, grumbling all the way, to get him there. He later complimented me and exclaimed that he had “really enjoyed it,” apparently struck dumb that it could have been anything but more boring adult shite.
So it was worth it and I’ll do it again in the fall and from now on if allowed.
THE TEXAS SCRIBBLER 