she sits beside me now

In the beginning, she sat on her bench.   and I sat on mine.

Conversation flowed, but not without hiccups.

She was always cordial, always energetic, always positive.  But still, I felt anxious when I thought about spending an hour in her studio every week.  I wasn't afraid of her, per say.  Intimidated, yes.  But she was never mean or cruel.  She just didn't waste any of our precious time buttering me up, affirming things that I had done right.  It was her job to make me a better musician, and she was going to spend time fixing all the problems, instead of bolstering my ego.

So she sat on her bench.  and I sat on mine.   And I marveled at how she could repeat exactly what I had just played, even things she'd never played before, with NO SCORE in front of her....and sound one hundred times better than I had.  I loved her sound, and was continually amazed at how she could make even the worst of instruments sing beautifully.

Occasionally, she would get up to come feel the tension in my arms or play something on my arm so I could feel what kind of touch her fingers were utilizing.  Every once in awhile, she would need to peek at the score to remember what chord came next.

But mostly she sat on her bench.   and I sat on mine.


Honestly, I didn't feel the need for a change.  This has been my experience in my lessons since 6th grade.  All but one of my teachers have had two pianos in their studios, and we have worked well that way.

And honestly, I don't remember when exactly it changed.  But one day...perhaps sometime towards the end of last semester...she pulled the folding chair out from her desk and set it beside my bench.  And in that simple move, she threw out the sense of formality and comfortable distance that had reigned for so long.


As I play, she reaches up to loosen my neck or check the tension in my arms. She sings along with me or plays the singer's part in the highest octaves of the keyboard.

The fallboard on the other keyboard stays down now.

Because she sits beside me.

When she needs to demonstrate something, she stands and scoots me off the bench.  We have it down to a science now - one smooth motion so rehearsed and fluid that I'm pretty sure the seat of the bench doesn't even see the light of day.

It may not seem like a big deal - even to the other students in her studio who have perhaps had similar experiences.


But to me, it is the difference between formality and intimacy.
To me, it is the difference between teacher and colleague.
To me, it is the difference between coach and team member.


Sure, she is still my teacher and my coach, and there will always be a level of formality that comes with that.  I will always respect and admire her wisdom and talent; she will always have more to teach me.

But her actions speak of the level of familiarity we have achieved together.  We began this journey as perfect strangers, and while we still have plenty left to learn about each other, we have managed, in a year and a half, to bridge the 4-ft. chasm that lies between the two benches.


In the beginning, she sat on her bench.  and I sat on mine.
but she sits beside me now.

i have a dream

Last year, I promised myself that I would go to DC on MLK Jr. Day.  He is one of my heroes, and it's been my dream to be a part of an MLK celebration in a big city like DC.

But this year, MLK Jr. Day was the same day as the inauguration!  I figured there might not be another opportunity to attend an inauguration, so I decided to jump on the chance while I am living an hour from our nation's capital.

Riding the train from Baltimore to DC

The state of the trash cans...at 9:00 AM.

We spent many hours in line.  Yes, this is a line, not just a mass of people.

Some folks were smart and brought some activities
to keep them occupied while we waited.

Where we stood for the actual ceremony.
We were about a mile away from the capitol.

David and Katie (and the president!).

The ceremony was broadcast on big screens like the one above. However, about one minute in, the video and audio started acting up.  The boos resounded from the crowd of 50,000 surrounding us. We stuck it out for awhile, hoping that some tech guy somewhere would get the problem fixed.  But alas, it only got worse.  In fact, the audio was so bad that poor James Taylor sounded like he was modulating every 5 seconds.  So, as the president gave his inaugural address, we headed to find a spot on the parade route.

After waiting in line for a few more hours, we found a place to park in the sunshine for a bit. It was fascinating to watch the people stream by, and to spot the snipers up on the roofs above us. I can't imagine what a nightmare it must have been for whoever had to organize the security detail!

 

Later in the afternoon, the parade began. There were lots of high school bands and military units, and of course, the crowd erupted as the president and vice president passed. 

Troops saluting as the president's car passed in the parade.

We walked a lot.  More than a lot.

After the crowds had died down, we wandered up towards the capitol.

It was a great day. We were thankful to be dressed warmly - but were never too cold - and we enjoyed the afternoon sun, later on!

Several times throughout the day, I found myself overwhelmed with emotion. 2013 marks the 150th anniversary of the Emancipation Proclamation, and the 50th anniversary of MLK's "March on Washington" and the "I have a dream" speech. As I watched the nation's first African-American president take his oath of office (for the second time!) on Bibles used by Abraham Lincoln and MLK Jr., I marveled at the progress that has been made. Could even Dr. King have dreamed that we could have come this far in only 50 years?

Sure, there is still MUCH work to be done. The stifling powers of oppression and racism and discrimination still run rampant in all areas of our country and culture; even our houses of worship are not exempt from their effects.

But I was proud and humbled to be able to spend a day honoring a man who was not afraid to stand for the truth, to hold to his convictions, and to be a voice for the voiceless.

"This I believe to be the privilege and the burden of all of us who deem ourselves bound by allegiances and loyalties which are broader and deeper than nationalism and which go beyond our nation's self-defined goals and positions. We are called to speak for the weak, for the voiceless, for the victims of our nation and for those it calls 'enemy,' for no document from human hands can make these humans any less our brothers."