I don’t really know why, but I woke up this morning having “written” this post in my sleep. I’m no one to argue with my subconscious. It’s kind of long. Like almost 2,000 words. You might want to get a coffee.

I got my first accordion, from Santa, on the Christmas when I was 5 years old. It was a little child-size red 12-bass model from Sears that came with a little instruction book.

Now, “Santa” had some reason for the gift. I remember sitting at the piano in my grandmother’s basement during family gatherings pitching a fit because nobody would come over and “show me how” the music reading thing worked. Using the ABC’s didn’t seem to be quite right because there were too many of them (26 letters) and the keys seemed to repeat before I got to the end of the alphabet. They must have been lying to me about that.

The point is, I was showing some interest in playing music. My mother and uncle had played accorion during the “craze” in the 40’s. And my mom was/is/always will be a bit of a reverse musical snob. In other words “You’re not going to learn to play the piano because then you’ll be playing all that long hair music all the time. I don’t want to listen to that stuff.” (Although, she may not have said “stuff”…don’t remember)

The accordion it was then. I took the little thing into my room and off and on over the next several months took it out to play with it. I would beg my mom (scream my little head off, probably) to come and explain a few things to me…like the left hand button thing. (Geeze! You can’t even see what you’re doing over there!) And the bellows thing (it doesn’t make sound unless you pull or push the bellows sending air through it.) At least the book explained the mystery between the Alphabet and the music notes. They only use 7 letters! Sheesh! Why couldn’t somebody have told me that?!?

Fast forward to summer and the summer-rec program at the neighborhood park and there’s going to be a talent show. Now by this time I’ve basically taught myself (with my mom’s minimal help) to play a couple of little baby-songs. Frere Jacques or something. (I’d have to look and see what the first song in the book is, and frankly I’m too lazy to go up and dig through the music cabinet to find it. Sue me.)

I decided that I was going to play in the talent show and signed up. (This wasn’t the talent show spoken of earlier…that one comes later.)

As you may guesss this is also where I first learned that playing the accordion was/is/probably always will be a little dorky. The teasing wasn’t too bad, and wasn’t in my face. And really, I didn’t know those kids anyways, so it didn’t bother me too much.

I played again the next year and the year after. Each time, kids would make funny remarks about the “squeeze box” or some such thing and after I played the same kids would say “good job!” and off I’d go back to my little microcosm of my life.

During my elementary and middle school years, my accordion didn’t really make it to school all that much. I practiced. A lot. But because I wasn’t going to school in the neighborhood anymore, it didn’t really take time away from playing with friends, because I didn’t really have that many. Plus, practicing kept me out of many many many of my parents arguments.

When I was a sophomore in high-school my accordion started to actually be an asset to my social life. I know. Hard to believe. But that was a year when Edina West High School did “Fiddler on the Roof” for their spring musical. And what do you need in the orchestra for “Fiddler on the Roof ” besides a fiddle? An accordion, of course! Surprisingly, there was a draught of high-school aged accordion players in the late 70’s.

This meant that high-school musical directors were desperate. And that I had a really great couple of years playing in pit orchestras with high-schools around the metro area. I think I played in 6 or 7 productions. And dated at least one boy from each of them. Sometimes it was someone from the chorus (or one of the villagers, as we called them in Fiddler) like Eric, from Edina. Or it was Tevye (Peter) from Apple Valley. Or the nice Jewish boy who played the violin in the orchestra (David) from St. Louis Park.

There were others, but these were the ones where we actually dated a bit after the production was over. Of course, there were the stolen kisses at the cast parties and the holding hands during the viewing of the tape of the show.

All was fine and dandy regarding me, my accordion and my self image during those months. It was also during this time that I won the highest category in the state-wide competition and placed in the top 5 nationally, which was pretty good for someone as young as I was.

Then I went back to public high school. And during my introduction during band (my favorite class in the whole wide world. I played percussion.) I mentioned that I was won the state-championship and that I was maybe going to play in the pit orchestra at Chanhassen (a local dinner theater, which by this time also had a production of Fiddler and needed a substitute accordion player. It would have required joining the musicians’ union and being paid. A. Lot. Of. Money.)

And it shocked me when there were some unkind comments made. Out loud. And everyone laughed. And it felt like they weren’t laughing with me. Mostly because I wasn’t laughing.

I don’t even remember what the comments were. I only remember thinking “Ok. You have to hide this accordion thing from these people.”

And you see, that meant I had to hide a big part of who I was.

Those mean comments said that I couldn’t be cool and have friends and play the accordion. And since there’s nothing a junior in high school needs more than friends, I stopped playing.

I find it hard to believe now, but I actually stopped playing. I switched my lessons to the piano. I tried out for the jazz band - on the piano. I wouldn’t show my friends my trophies (I had 42 of them from over the years I competed!) I cut that part of me off like a gangrenous arm.

I auditioned for college on the piano (never having learned any repertoire besides “Maple Leaf Rag”).

My freshman year I played a production of “Cabaret” (also a great accordion part) but it was for a “real” theater company and had nothing to do with college or my college friends.

(That was a great experience where I learned how to drink vodka gimlets, learned to drink not too much so I could still play, learned that married men would steal kisses from me during cast parties, and that other men would call me horrid names for making friends with other men who were gay. Heck I think that was the first time I had friends who were gay. Some of those cast party conversations were when I learned that these wonderful loving talented people were being told by people in the church that they couldn’t be there! Luckily, when I started to say how wrong and stupid that was, another wonderful loving and talented friend put his hand on my arm and kept me from speaking “because they just need to vent this out. We all know it’s wrong and stupid but they’ve been hurt.” Which given the fact that I was young, was another eye-opener for me. Men vent? Who knew?)

ANYWAY. My point is I kept hiding this part of my life from my friends. No one on campus really knew that I even played the show, much less that I played the accordion.

It was a little awkward the next year when the drama department’s musical was…you guessed it: Fiddler. I was baffled by having to have multiple conversations with the music director that boiled down to: “No, you really need an accordion in the orchestra and I will play it.” He must not have ever looked at the score. His incompetent directing was probably what stirred me to want to conduct. Sitting in rehearsals and shows thinking “I could do better than that!” apparently is formative. Who knew?

Still, the accordion never made it into my daily conversation or my social life. Nor was it a part of my professional music-teacher life after graduation. I played shows (I played the first opera produced on the Ordway stage…a horrible little opera called “Animalen.” Ugh. Avoid it!) but I didn’t take it to school and use it in my teaching. I played the piano now. I had given 4 solo piano recitals during college (talk about your over-achieving.) I could pass as a “real” musician.

I think that’s why, when I decided to audition for graduate school I was sort of militant (maybe too strong a word) about auditioning on the accordion. (The audition consisted of conducting a specific piece, playing a piece of your choice- presumably on organ or piano- or singing, I suppose. Some ear-training/dictation/sight-singing hell, and an interview. )

It’s complicated, but I ended up with only 2 weeks to prepare for this audition. I took out the music from the state champion competition from 25 years before and started practicing. (1st movement of English Suite III by J. S. Bach. For those of you who are dorky enough to care.) I took a coaching lesson from my friend DL and went in with the attitude of “They have to accept me into this program as an accordion player. I’m tired of trying to ‘pass’ as anything else.”

Since that time, I’ve pushed and weaseled my way into playing whenever I can.

And the amazing thing is that the accordion playing, while it doesn’t get me dates like it used to, it doesn’t loose friends like I feared it would all those years. And being myself feels a lot better than trying to be someone or something else. A lot of that has to do with maturity. Being over 30…and now over 40. Each of those milestones it felt like I could let down my guard a little more. A little more of the old “F**k ‘em if they can’t take a joke” attitude creeping in.

So, there you have it. I don’t make sense. I play classical music on the accordion. I like vacationing in the wilderness and eating gourmet food and wine. I am a feminist and I work in the church. I’m independent and self-sufficient and want a “special” relationship in my life (that works.) I read science fiction and have no spacial acuity whatsoever. I think life is beautiful and worth living fully, but if it ended now, that would be OK too. I’m spiritual and intellectual and I love the physical joys of this life. I work in the church and I divorced my “nice guy” husband and I’m dating again! I don’t fit into a nice neat little box that society can label and say they’ve figured me out. I am a paradox and the accordion playing is just one point on a many faceted collection of opposites that make me who I am.

The best part? I’m starting to like and be proud of all of it.

— — —
A year ago (or longer) on This Journey…

Another totally true blog quiz result 2007
Saturday with the boys 2007

— — —
A year ago (or longer) on This Journey…

Another totally true blog quiz result 2007
Saturday with the boys 2007

— — —
A year ago (or longer) on This Journey…

Another totally true blog quiz result 2007
Saturday with the boys 2007

Posted on February 17th, 2007 under accordion, geekiness, my crazy life. RSS 2.0 feed. Leave a response, or trackback.