The 10-year-old has an artistic streak. The creative force is strong in this one and we do all we can to encourage it. She already has craft skills, enjoys reading and writing, and has been showing an affinity for music. She will need all these talents as she embarks on her accountancy/law/medical career, not that we’re going to insist on it. Much.
I recently came into possession of a fine musical instrument; a family heirloom from her great aunt. It’s a lovely Kohala soprano ukulele, complete with a handsome case, a snazzy tuner, and plenty of sheet music.
Perfect, until she announces she wants to learn the violin. But why? I try wheedling, pointing out that the ukulele is about the same size, has just as many strings, doesn’t require a pesky bow, and will give her the ability to perform “Hallelujah” like Jeff Buckley or Leonard Cohen.
To which she replies, “I like the bow and I’ll be able to play the ‘Hallelujah Chorus.’ Plus I can switch to fiddling ‘Orange Blossom Special’ with a country band or play with Dad’s metal band someday.”
I am now marshaling my most persuasive and cogent arguments against this plan, but she’s very quick.
“What’s more,” she persists with a certain disapproving tone, “look at the strings!” I give an admiring look to the uke’s beautifully crafted fishing line strings. Works of art and only six bucks on Amazon. This fifth-grader then proceeds to explain to me about violin strings and the way they’re made (gut, steel, a higher grade of nylon) and how different types of rosin can produce different kinds of sounds. “It’s ok, abuelo,” she tells me. “I’ll start with the student-grade rosin. The professional-grade can come later.”
This wasn’t going quite as planned. It would probably have been helpful if I’d been able to display my own virtuosity on the ukulele, but I haven’t strummed one since probably the late 1960s. I could probably start regaling her with stories about those days, but there’s a better than even chance she’d say, “Gotta go practice!” To which I’d reply, “But you don’t have your violin yet!” To which she’d respond as she disappeared, “Music theory!”
I don’t think I’m going to win this one.
But maybe I’ll have better luck with the 3-year-old. She is 95 percent fearless in front of people. Of course, it helps if the people are mommy and daddy, plus the grandparents, and all the aunts, uncles, and cousins. A friendly audience.
It looks like I’ll have to try to foist the ukulele on her in a year or two (we don’t want her chasing the cat while wielding a uke). Meanwhile, she’s honing her standup skills and doing variations of charades. She poses and the room hollers out what they think she’s emulating. She stands in front of the fireplace, arm fully extended upwards. The guesses start flying: Giraffe! Statue of Liberty! Emu! Ballerina! It is none of these. “I’m a pterodactyl!” and everyone groans and applauds and she finds it very satisfying. When she adds the uke to the act, it’s going to be a smash!
I feel reasonably confident that this is fine training as she prepares to join her sister someday in the accountancy/law/medical field. It fits with her sense of adventure, although I’ve been warning her against trying to get on an Elon Musk Starship to Mars. After all, 140 million miles is even further than Antarctica, and I’m not sure her grandparents could make the trip. Unless we took a ukulele.