by Ying Q.
There is one thing for which I feel very lucky and grateful when I look back at my life experiences, and that is learning to play the violin. I had learned to play the violin when I was in elementary school, which was when the Cultural Revolution of the 1970’s happened in China. Society was very political and everything was related to socialist propaganda and Chairman Mao.
My parents was working full-time and always came home in the evening. In order to resolve the concern they had about what I would do during the second half of the day after school was out, my mom thought I could learn a musical instrument. “You’d probably be able to promote Chairman Mao’s thought through music in the future,” she said.
I joined the school band called Propaganda Team and learned to play the Chinese mandolin, liu qin. I enjoyed the musical activities very much and was exposed to many other kinds of instruments. The violins, with their beautiful, curved outlines, f-holes, and reddish brown colors, caught my attention very much. I enviously watched some of the senior students play the violin—they looked cool and elegant—and I wanted to be like them. I kept begging my mom to let me learn to play the violin.
Since my mom had bought me a liu qin which cost her half a month’s salary, she thought it wouldn’t be necessary for me to have the second instrument. My mom thought I was just impulsive about violins, that my interests wouldn’t last long and that wouldn’t insist on practicing violin patiently. I swore to my mom, “I will practice violin hard because I liked it very much!” I said that again and again.
There was one scene I have never forgotten. One day, my mom came home from work in the evening. She showed me a book, How to Play Violins, and then said that when she went to the bookstore to look for music books, the clerk told my mom that her husband was a violin teacher, teaching at their house. “What a coincidence! Isn’t it?” My mom was excited. I was glad and jumped, too! We were happy for this surprise. This scene in my childhood is ingrained in me forever.