MARCH 2013 BABY BOOMER WOMEN Rock By Cathy Stevenson Last week I saw Jackson Browne in
concert at Pechanga. As I sat there transfixed on the voice, face and pres- ence of one of my all-time idols ( and, yes, secret crushes), it became a defin- ing moment for me. Music has always been such a tremendous part of who I am. Fantasies of becoming a rock star began at a very early age. I even taught myself to play guitar at the advanced age of 30, and was part of a very unsuc- cessful band back in those days. As I stood up and danced with abandon to “Running on Empty,” it was once again 1975 and nothing mattered at that mo- ment more than the music. My love of music started at a very
early age. Every time I heard “The Teensy Weensy Spider” as a young child I would squeal with joy and gyrate throughout the house. “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star” was nothing short of a theme song for my life. When I was in elemen- tary school, my favorite subject was glee club (no, it wasn’t like Glee.) My love of music blossomed even further by the time I entered Junior High School. I had taken piano lessons when I was about 8 years old (hated it) but I was actually pretty good, despite the fact that I hardly ever practiced and only studied classical music. So when I started 7th grade, I de- cided to sign up for the school orches- tra. I thought the violin might be a fun instrument to learn. It was small, came in a cute little case and sounded sad and yet pretty. That was the plan. Some- how, when it was my turn to pick an in- strument, all the violins were spoken for. I wound up with a cello. Yes, a large, cumbersome, heavy, uncool cello.. I ac- cepted my fate and began to learn how to hold this monstrosity between my knees, place my fingers on the fretless neck and smoothly manipulate the freshly rosined bow to make something resembling music come out of the gracefully curved sound holes. Surprising even myself, I began to
love my cello and started to work my way forward from a chair in the rear of the cello section. The measure of your success in a classical orchestra is how far front you are. By 8th grade I had made it to second chair. My nemesis was the girl in the first chair. Anita Farhi. Oh, how I resented her, sitting there self- righteously in that first chair. I wanted that first chair with every fiber of my being. The problem was, Anita Farhi was also taking PRIVATE LESSONS! Our music teacher, Miss Landi, was, I be- lieve, the one who gave her these les- sons after school. I was never able to confirm this Farhi/Landi collusion, but that first chair might as well have been glued to her behind. It was never to be mine. I continued as second chair cellist until we played Pomp and Circumstance at 9th grade graduation. I am grateful for the experience, although playing the cello prevented me from wearing cute, tight skirts that all the girls were wearing at the time. I had to wear poufy, full skirts every day, so I could fit the darn cello
between my knees. Although I was cer- tainly no threat to YoYo Ma, turns out I wasn’t too bad. And Anita Farhi, I have finally forgiven you. When I was 14, The Beatles came
to town. I sat in front of our black and white TV with all the other young girls in the country and watched this phenome- non unfold on The Ed Sullivan show on
that Sunday night that made history. I was sure Paul was destined to marry me. To this day, I am still the consum- mate Beatlemaniac. Sitting in the nose- bleed section at Shea Stadium watching John, Paul, George .and Ringo is still one of the benchmarks of my life. And the entire British invasion also invaded my very soul. Then came Woodstock.
Janis, Jimi, Joe Cocker, CSNY. All of it is still my music of choice. Music icons come and go. I will al-
ways miss Whitney Houston. And I still don’t know who Skrillex is, but they won a Grammy last year.
It’s so important to
keep an open musical mind, but I will never forget those who came before and still make my spirit dance!
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