Memories On the Tips of My Fingers

I've been shuffling through my old violin music looking for pieces I can work on to improve my fingering. I found Bach's Minuet in G and am doing quite well to butcher it. *ahem* Anyway, I found a set of sheet music with the name and address of the last youth orchestra conductor I sat under, Mr. Oscar Ravina. I have fond memories of his kindness when I expressed my fear that I was holding the orchestra back with my lack of skills. Rather than dismissing me as I'd asked/hoped he would or ignoring me as I feared he would, he privately assured my mother and me that I only needed private instruction in order to bring me up to speed. I may not have received that private instruction, but I never forgot him. I also remember that under him I was exposed to the beauty that is Bach's Brandenburg Concertos; we performed the first movement of Concerto No. 5 the year I made it to the advanced orchestra. So when I stumbled upon his name, I plugged him into Google to see what came up.

My faint memories of someone saying he was associated with the NY Philharmonic were correct. He was a violinist with them for 40 years. He also suffered an acute stroke in 2003--my heart stopped when I read that!--but with therapy he has been able to resume teaching violin. He is also far younger than I imagined; he is only about 80 years old, now.

If I had the resources and he was accepting new students, I would get the lessons from him now that I was not able to get then. At the very least, I may write to him to thank him for his kindness to a frustrated teen and let him know I am picking the instrument up after a 22-year hiatus.

Now, back to doing unspeakable things to Minuet in G.

So that's why I was feeling lost just now...

When you don't know what to do next, W, sometimes it's because you've already done more than you give yourself credit for.

Hey, you don't want to make that mistake again, huh?

You rock -
    The Universe (www.tut.com)

P.S. Every single day of your life, W, you've moved mountains. And somehow I don't see this ever changing.

Strings On My Mind

Last night I dreamed I was playing cello. The instrument had a rich sound, and the strings felt smooth under my fingertips when I performed a skilled vibrato. I could even feel the coolness of the scroll as I leaned into it during a particularly moving part of the piece I was playing.

I have never played cello in my life.

Oooo, Shiny!

I am in the computer lab at school, attempting to do practice questions for the 70-291 exam. While I have done five times as many questions today as I did each of the previous two days of the week, I became easily distracted after buckling down for the first 10.

I get the feeling this should bother me far more than it does.

How is your day going?

The Story of Pocahontas (VA)

A view of the main street in Pocahontas, VA. 6 September 2009

The story of Pocahontas, VA is told by these building remnants on the nearly deserted main street. Ornate storefronts shield your view from the ruins behind them and tell a story of a glorious past long gone. At the far end of the street is the remains of the general store, of which only the face of the building remains. The roof and remaining three outside walls fell to the elements.

There is no gas station in Pocahontas. No pharmacy. No doctor's office. No grocery store. No restaurants. No schools. The population stands at under 400, with only 2% African-American. There are more people dead in the main and black cemeteries (yes, there are two separate cemeteries, though the black cemetery no longer takes new burials) than are alive in the town. This once thriving coal town is slowly dying out.

Traveling Without Moving

Lexington & 53rd. Riding the elevator from the platform to street level.


Darn! Just Missed It! The Uptown #6 train pulls away just as I reach the platform.