Mendy Smith

As Laurie mentioned, it is that time of year again to submit applications for summer camps and festivals. I put in my submission a few weeks ago for Interlochen's Adult Chamber Music Camp and received an e-mail the other day that I am confirmed.

This will be my third year. I'm looking forward to this more than ever before. This year my "stand-partner-in-crime" will be joining me and we are making it a road trip from Houston to Traverse City and back. We have signed up for a two day pre-organized intensive study: Brandenburg #6, Bridge's Lament and Daugherty 's Viola Zombies. Yes, Viola Zombies. Think "Twilight Zone".

Besides the normal excitement of being able to indulge myself in what I love for a week, I'm also looking forward to seeing my old viola teacher again and introducing him to my stand-partner-in-crime. We are hoping that the two-day intensive will be with my old teacher. Who else better to guide us through the techniques needed to perform "Viola Zombies"?

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When Words Fail

March 10, 2010 00:13

John (Buddy) Howard Bradford was born March 21, 1917. He served in the Army during WWI in the Philippines. After the war was over, he moved back to the ranch in Texas where he met my grandmother Viola (Ollie) Gieble. They married after she finished high school. He was a machinist at Reynold's Aluminum (now Alcoa) and retired at the age of 60.

My childhood memories of him are filled with summers at the lake house, learning to ride horses, fix tack and barbed wire fencing, learning to drive tractors and boats, playing competitive dominoes, and learning his craft - machining. It is from him that I got my early training that inspired my career in manufacturing. A few years ago he finally gave me his 1927 South Bend lathe and helped me re-assemble it and get it running again.

When I was living in Oregon, he spent the summer with me to supervise my house remodel. During that time, we developed a nightly routine. After dinner, he would sit in my music room and waited for me to begin practicing viola. After I worked on my scales, etudes and Bach Suite, he'd request favorite tunes - Tennessee Waltz, Irish Washer Woman, Cotton Eye'd Joe, and other Western & Southern tunes while his dog sat under the stand listening.

If you look through my music library, you would find a few pieces with a hand-written note at the top marking the passing of a loved one. On March 9, 2010 my grandfather passed away peacefully with my mother at his side and I marked the Barber quartet Op. 11 Adagio movement.

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Music for the Soul

March 7, 2010 21:23

This past week has been a rough one. Last Monday I received a call I'd been dreading: if I wanted to see my grandfather again, it had to be soon - within hours. I quickly packed, grabbed the viola and headed out the door to make the drive up to Tennessee. I made it to the hospital at midnight, slept by his bed along with my mother. The next morning, we were able to talk - a little. The doctor expected him to pass away within hours/days at the most. Well, GP (grand-pa) had his own ideas. By Friday we moved him into the nursing home for hospice care.

After we got GP settled in to the nursing home, I walked around the facility. It is a very nice place as far as nursing homes are concerned. But it tore my heart to see so many people (mostly women) in their wheelchairs gathered around the various nursing stations staring at each other and talking mostly to themselves as their daily social activity. I found the administrator and asked if they would like a viola recital. Definitely! Yes!!! We scheduled a time for Saturday.

Saturday morning, I went back to the nursing home and sat with my grandfather. In the afternoon, a nurse poked her head into the room letting me know it was time. I grabbed my viola and headed towards the cafeteria and started setting up as several residents were brought in. Some of the women dressed up with coifed hair, red lipstick and fancy necklaces. One of the few men at the home was right up front. I'd seen him the previous day sitting quietly watching TV with a blank stare.

I rifled through my music and pulled out Bach, feeling very thankful that I spent a good portion of my adult viola-life working on the Suites, and began with the 2nd movement of the 1st Suite. It didn't even cross my mind to be fearful of performing. I was completely focused on making the music that was in my mind come out in my own playing. Within a few measures it felt like the viola was playing herself, telling me what to do to make the sound more beautiful. Between each movement, the residents applauded enthusiastically. I continued through the Suites, picking a movement or two from each and ended the afternoon playing Ashoken's Farewell and the Sarabande from the 6th Suite.

As I packed up, two of the women spoke with me. They were thankful for the music and said I played beautifully. We talked for a bit, and then I headed back to my grandfather's room. The door was open. When I walked in, my aunt and a friend of the family were sitting by my grandfather. I put my viola down and went to sit once again by his bed. My aunt said they could hear me from the room. I don't know if my grandfather heard or not. He was asleep. He had been sleeping for 3 days solid.

I held his hand and felt the warmth. It had been cold the other day. Then I heard "the rattle". I was louder than the previous day. It won't be much longer now.

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