The Next Itzhak Perlman?

I headed down to the Cape this weekend for some family bonding. We mostly ate food and played cards – notice a pattern here? My Mom won the first two games and I won the last two games. My father didn’t win a single time. Not only that, he managed to come in last place every time. It just wasn’t his weekend.

I did manage to install WiFi internet access from their home, though. After the fiasco with Randy setting up mine at my apartment…and then my subsequently screwing it all up…I was rather impressed that things worked out at my parents place. They claim that they’re desktop computer is working faster as a result. I suspect that’s not likely, but I’ll take any (misguided) credit they’ll offer.

On Sunday we drove back to Boston where we visited my sister-in-law, Heidi, at the hospital. She looked INCREDIBLE. Seriously, last week she looked on death’s door with an extremely risky surgery looming. But the surgery was a success. An incredible success. We arrived and she was finishing up physical therapy. For the first time in 6 months I saw her out of her bed. She was sitting in a chair and quite lively. It was a relief to all of us to see her that way (what a recovery since I last saw her on Thursday).

Somehow during conversation my parents brought up how my brother and I took music lessons in elementary school. Mom reminded me (and told Heidi) that I took violin lessons in 4th or 5th grade. Now, I never think about this and if my mother hadn’t reminded me, I’d probably never have thought about this little fact again. But I do recall hating the violin, hating the lessons, and being a horrible, horrible student.

However, my Mom proceeded to brag to Heidi about how I was such a wonderful violinist and how I picked it up so quickly. I was appaerntly even able to play songs by ear – without the aid of music sheets. Even more strange, my father (who has since become a grumpy old man who complains about everything) started smiling and said, as if looking back fondly, “Ah yes – he played beautifully.”


How could their view of things be so different than mine? I thought I sucked…and I thought I hated it. I asked Mom why I quit and she said I loved it but quit because I was supposed to continue practicing and taking lessons through the summer and I didn’t want to.

Who new?

Well, at least one thing remains consistent…I’m still highly umotivated.


  1. Comment by Will on January 22, 2007 4:50 pm

    Isn’t it wonderful how time has a habit of putting rose colored glasses on memory. Just think, in 30 years, your noisily fornicating upstairs neighbors will be the best, quietest neighbors you ever had.


  2. Comment by chrispy on January 23, 2007 12:40 am

    i played the trombone!

  3. Comment by snarl on January 23, 2007 10:31 am

    Trombone? You? I love it.

  4. Comment by Dave in Chicago (2) on January 23, 2007 11:06 am

    Wasn’t that the rusty trombone? ;-p

  5. Comment by karyn on January 23, 2007 12:09 pm

    I love. Love love love. Your dad.

    And I would like photographic proof of your violining days.

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