MY TEENAGE YEARS - Part II

     My brother, John, shared a personal reflection with me today in a trans-Atlantic telephone call.    He said that his interest in classical music is rooted in the fact that he grew up listening to my practicing the piano every day.    I used to get up when mother did, (at 5:30 a.m.) to practice.    She would drink her coffee and read the newspaper - she always said the music relaxed her.   This was our daily routine.   John used to wear earplugs to bed some nights, so he could sleep later, if he wished -  he could still hear the piano, only less.  Working at the instrument in the early morning turned into a lifelong habit.   If I have not practiced at the beginning of the day, things feel out of order, so to speak.   John, who now lives half the year in Columbia, South America, said he feels sorry for people who haven't been exposed to classical music, as he was.   I know that it does make all the difference in the world.   
     We also spoke about our mutual experiences of growing up in our parents' home.   Mother was a fanatic about the house being kept clean.   Both of us had chores to do in the morning -  dusting the furniture, the window sills, and mopping the kitchen floor - all before leaving for school at 7:45 a.m.   She also felt the need to periodically scrutinize our rooms for anything she considered 'a mess' and toss out items she deemed 'no longer necessary' or 'dilapidated.'   She carried this practice much too far, in our opinion.    One day I could not find my favorite panda bear, which used to go everywhere with me.   Of course, the bear (named 'Blackie') had gradually become worn - his fur was mostly gone, and he was truly 'dilapidated'- but I adored him.   After rushing all over the house searching frantically for him, I had a sudden brainwave.    Maybe mother had done something with him, like.... throw him away....so I went out to the garage where the garbage can was kept, and lifted the lid.   And THERE HE WAS!!  I grabbed him, brushed him off and carried him back into the house - looking for my mother, to give her a piece of my mind!   She was in the kitchen, and when I told her that I had found my 'lost' panda bear which she had thrown OUT, she was somewhat shocked.   Furthermore, I said, "I will be leaving home, if this ever happens again!"   By this time I was sobbing, and could not stop.   (I was 8 years old at this juncture!)   John was also crying, not only because I was, but because one of his favorite trucks had disappeared, and he feared for its demise.    We both confronted mother, and made her promise not to do that again.   She did keep her word - at least until I left home for Eastman, when she 'cleaned out my room' and gave away my prized, large teddy bear which always sat on my bed.....more on that story later.   Mother was a very competent person, and knew how to take care of certain things in life, but she had no real idea of how a child's mind worked - that what may have seemed unimportant to her, could be crucial to a little boy or girl.    She had no gift for empathy, and her imagination was completely undeveloped,  as a result,  I am sure,  of her own unsympathetic upbringing.  
     During my junior year, mother decided that I should not stay in school for my senior year - she was a teacher there and felt that much time was wasted on non-essentials in the 12th grade.   Both my brother and I had always attended summer school at Eastern Washington College of Education with our parents (they both took courses to fulfill certain requirements for salary increases).   John and I took various subjects, (which had high school credits attached).    We had fun doing this -- certain  courses,  such as learning how to edit a newspaper were excellent preparation for other types of work.    I also took American History, Washington State History, and Civics, which were required for graduation.   In addition, my outside music lessons had credits attached which counted toward a high school diploma.    And, of course, I was required to study shorthand and bookkeeping by my mother, who taught those subjects (in those days there were no computer science courses).   I had learned to type at about age 10 - a most useful skill in school and everywhere else.  So thanks to mother's foresight I graduated at the end of my junior year with top academic honors.    (At that time I was on the Central Valley girls' basketball team, which was in the state finals that year, and I was the table tennis champion that year as well.)     My parents were heavily criticized for instigating my early graduation from high school, but that didn't bother them.    After that, however, a rule was made to insure that all students be physically present for 3 years in high school - grades 10, 11, and 12.   In retrospect, this all seems rather silly - matters have progressed quite beyond that point.   In this computer age, one can take courses online, and actually earn a diploma in that manner.   
     And so, I enrolled in Gonzaga University in Spokane, living at home and driving to school.   My plan to attend The Eastman School of Music, was still uppermost in my mind, and it was decided (after my audition tape was accepted) that I begin at ESM in my sophomore year, as a transfer student.   The die was cast - I was ready to move on.