My Life Wouldn’t Have Existed Without Music

It was the soundtrack to my childhood, literally and figuratively

I was raised with music. Not just music but live music coming from inside my house.

My mom is a flutist. There was not a time in my childhood when I didn’t hear the sounds of her practicing her flute in the background. And when she wasn’t practicing, it was one of her students who came to our house after school. There was a revolving door of students, ranging in age from preteen to adult, who came to our house regularly to receive private flute lessons from my mom.

So, it’s not a surprise that at the age of three, I started playing the violin. Unlike many children who have music lessons forced on them, I wanted to play the violin.

I started with a fake violin, which was actually a Cracker Jack box attached to a ruler. This is how three-year-olds first learn to play. There is much more than just the music to learn. There is how to hold a violin, and…well, I don’t know what else, but we spent a whole session of classes with that Cracker Jack box.

It seems silly, but holding a violin is important. It taught me how to respect my instrument. When I finally got a real violin, strings and all, it felt like a privilege.

Once I had the real violin, I learned all kinds of songs. I was too young to read music, so I learned them all by memory, listening to my tapes (yes, tapes, it was the 80s) at night when I went to sleep.

My mom, of course, played a huge role in my learning to play the violin. She used to sit with me every night as I practiced, correcting me every time I hit a wrong note. You could say having a music teacher for a mom can be both a blessing and a curse. Either way, I’m grateful for it today.

My childhood was filled with violin lessons, hours of practicing, and recitals. Learning a musical instrument isn’t just about playing it. I learned much bigger lessons, like how to appreciate music and to discipline myself to practice.

I continued to play the violin through high school and college. It’s a skill I took for granted as a child. In fact, I was almost ashamed of it. While all my classmates were playing volleyball or soccer or whatever athletics they were involved in, I was at violin lessons. It didn’t feel cool.

What I would give to tell little seven-year-old me how cool it is to learn a musical instrument.

As I grew older, I learned to be proud of my skills.

Even better, I get to see my seven-year-old niece play the violin. She’s learning what I learned: first, how to hold a violin, then how to hold a bow, and now she’s learning to play the same songs I played at her age.

And I get to watch her play with my mom, who corrects her when she hits the wrong notes.

I feel proud to be part of this generational skill being passed down.

I rarely play the violin today. It’s sitting in my closet, collecting dust. Occasionally, I pull it out and play a little. It amazes me how good my muscle memory is, as if not a day has passed since I last played.

I cannot imagine a life without music. I may have been a little embarrassed of my violin as a child, but today, it is something I share with pride.