Lifestyles of the Broke and the Tame-less Part 2 and Revised

June 22, 2007 at 5:28 PM

By: Jasmine Reese

Yesterday, I had a violin lesson with violinist extraordinaire Clayton Haslop.
A couple of days before, he generously set aside time out of his busy schedule to meet me. My head overflowed with possibilities and exaggerations that an inexperienced person in any trade usually thinks up when given the chance to brush up with their superiors in their fields of wanted expertise. I felt like a mere servant girl called by the King himself into the castle—his territory.
My mind even more so bustled with confusion as I thought of how this man who had the power to play all Paganini caprices straight through with flawless capacity enthusiastically invited me to come and learn from him. Me, this broke, late-starter mind you. Maybe you are wasting this man’s time, I thought.
On the big day, I awoke at 7 a.m. I jumped onto the bus, violin, purse and all, and sat down feeling so special inside. I wondered to myself, how many other people talked to their so-called idols?
I arrived at the Los Angeles Union Station. From there, I caught the Santa Monica Freeway express bus. I knew I approached my destination when I saw Walt Disney Concert Hall. It stood like the entrance courtyards to the royal leader’s kitchen and beyond that a feast of musical venues presented themselves: Dorothy Chandler Pavillion, Los Angeles Opera Company, and so much more.
After transferring to a new bus, we finally arrived on Avenue of the Stars—one hour early. My nerves vibrated happily as I saw the hotel across the street where the one and only Mr. Haslop resided. What would the moment be like when I saw him in the person for the first time? And even more important, what would this master of the violin think of my playing?
I bought a little food at the nearby store, keeping my eyes closely stuck on the clock when finally the time had come to walk over to the hotel.
Two years ago, I would have embarrassed myself while trying to stall this momentous event. But, no, I calmly told the receptionist to let his majesty know that I waited for him in the lobby.
A few minutes later, he exited the elevator with his violin in his left hand and coffee cup in the other. And I felt a sense of shock, not because he was everything I had envisioned but because he was normal. An ordinary man with flesh and, although I could not see past his skin, I am sure he had bones. He told me of his work while here in LA and the food he ate (his whole family is Vegan), and I just could not believe it. What happened to the magical moment, the red carpet, the shooting stars and the Hollywood violins? Well, I guess he literally had the Hollywood violin.
By the time I took out my instrument and started to play for him, I was calm and my altered perceptions soon began to accept the reality. Although I learned so much from the lesson he gave me, the true moral to this story is that I placed something I loved on such a high pedestal that by the end of the day I forgot it was just a piece of wood, and the people who handle it are humans who work hard to master it. I am a human and if I labor and put time and patience in to this instrument maybe someday I could be in the same place. Because in the end, we are all people who must live our lives carefully with the blood that pumps through the organ that we all have—our hearts.

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Lifestyles of the Broke and the Tame-less Part 2 and Revised

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