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Oh my paws and whiskers. I'm late, ever so late (having missed April 15 and all).
This one's an easy memory. When I was in high school, it seems there was A. Pianist who received prominence every year. When I was in Grade 12, the pianist was Alla (also Polish). And, then, when I hit Grade 13, I ascended to the throne. ::giggles:: Yeah, so I'm using Royal imagery. I wonder why. NOT.
Already a member of the Senior Orchestra and Senior Strings, I was also given the honour of performing at the spring concert. The only problem was choosing a concerto. At the time, I had a very bossy piano teacher (who had been – in her heyday – a performer). So, basically, she chose the concerto, just as she chose ALL my music. ::scowls:: But it actually was a delightful work by Mozart, K488 in A+. The funny thing is that I was in many ways much TOO young to appreciate Mozart at the time. That didn't happen for another couple of decades.
So, the piano part was doable for someone of my age. But, in contrast, the orchestral part was hideous for a youth orchestra, especially the very exposed parts written for the French horns. [Why, yes, I do have a very long memory.] I still remember yelling out (oops, ahead of the conductor) that they were hitting The. Wrong. Note.
Anyway, as Mme Pianist, I was given the key to the grand piano on the stage of the Auditorium. And, for a while in the weeks leading up to the concert, I would walk to school in the middle of the night, let myself in through the staff entrance, wave to the janitors as I passed by their office and then make myself at home on stage for a few hours of dedicated practice. I did this several times.
The cute thing was that, by the time 8:30 rolled around (with classes beginning at 9:00), students would wander in and sit down to listen. I still have a very fond memory of that. [Mind you, I did some amazing things in Grade 13 for which I was given an award. Maybe I'll try to squeeze that in as a musical memory, too, later on.] The other thing that stuns me, even though Toronto is still a fairly safe city, is how I could walk to school at major dark'o'clock without raising any undue adult concern.
When the night of the concert came, I had a choice of which dress to wear. My mother had bought two formal dresses from the mother of a friend (who had already graduated the previous year). I'd already decided I'd wear one at the concert and the other for graduation. The choices were a simple purple one, with a scoop neck, wee cap sleeves and a flowing long skirt OR an emerald green satin, sleeveless, and ::inhales sharply:: straight up and down. As I was playing both the piano and violin, I decided the purple one was the practical choice. And it looked good with my reddish-blond flip hairdo.
When I showed up, my friends presented me with a tea rose corsage and I thought that was pretty neat. So, you can imagine my surprise afterwards, when I was taking my bows, to have the Concertmaster, my partner in the first desk, step up and hand me an adorable bouquet of white and purple carnations (done up bridesmaid-style with the lacy wrapper). I was stunned. And I think he was too, when I kissed him on the cheek! I guess someone had asked me what colour dress I was wearing so they could get the flowers to match. I held on to that bouquet (and corsage) for a very long time. Hey, if it's not memories, it's things I hold on as well. You may have noticed that tendency happening ... from time to time.
I'm always thrilled to hear something I've performed when I'm listening to the radio. The Mozart is definitely one of those special compositions.
This one's an easy memory. When I was in high school, it seems there was A. Pianist who received prominence every year. When I was in Grade 12, the pianist was Alla (also Polish). And, then, when I hit Grade 13, I ascended to the throne. ::giggles:: Yeah, so I'm using Royal imagery. I wonder why. NOT.
Already a member of the Senior Orchestra and Senior Strings, I was also given the honour of performing at the spring concert. The only problem was choosing a concerto. At the time, I had a very bossy piano teacher (who had been – in her heyday – a performer). So, basically, she chose the concerto, just as she chose ALL my music. ::scowls:: But it actually was a delightful work by Mozart, K488 in A+. The funny thing is that I was in many ways much TOO young to appreciate Mozart at the time. That didn't happen for another couple of decades.
So, the piano part was doable for someone of my age. But, in contrast, the orchestral part was hideous for a youth orchestra, especially the very exposed parts written for the French horns. [Why, yes, I do have a very long memory.] I still remember yelling out (oops, ahead of the conductor) that they were hitting The. Wrong. Note.
Anyway, as Mme Pianist, I was given the key to the grand piano on the stage of the Auditorium. And, for a while in the weeks leading up to the concert, I would walk to school in the middle of the night, let myself in through the staff entrance, wave to the janitors as I passed by their office and then make myself at home on stage for a few hours of dedicated practice. I did this several times.
The cute thing was that, by the time 8:30 rolled around (with classes beginning at 9:00), students would wander in and sit down to listen. I still have a very fond memory of that. [Mind you, I did some amazing things in Grade 13 for which I was given an award. Maybe I'll try to squeeze that in as a musical memory, too, later on.] The other thing that stuns me, even though Toronto is still a fairly safe city, is how I could walk to school at major dark'o'clock without raising any undue adult concern.
When the night of the concert came, I had a choice of which dress to wear. My mother had bought two formal dresses from the mother of a friend (who had already graduated the previous year). I'd already decided I'd wear one at the concert and the other for graduation. The choices were a simple purple one, with a scoop neck, wee cap sleeves and a flowing long skirt OR an emerald green satin, sleeveless, and ::inhales sharply:: straight up and down. As I was playing both the piano and violin, I decided the purple one was the practical choice. And it looked good with my reddish-blond flip hairdo.
When I showed up, my friends presented me with a tea rose corsage and I thought that was pretty neat. So, you can imagine my surprise afterwards, when I was taking my bows, to have the Concertmaster, my partner in the first desk, step up and hand me an adorable bouquet of white and purple carnations (done up bridesmaid-style with the lacy wrapper). I was stunned. And I think he was too, when I kissed him on the cheek! I guess someone had asked me what colour dress I was wearing so they could get the flowers to match. I held on to that bouquet (and corsage) for a very long time. Hey, if it's not memories, it's things I hold on as well. You may have noticed that tendency happening ... from time to time.
I'm always thrilled to hear something I've performed when I'm listening to the radio. The Mozart is definitely one of those special compositions.
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