
I've always loved thrift shops and secondhand book stores. There's something romantic about an old piece of furniture or a yellowed book that makes me wonder about its provenance.
Once, I came upon this worn-out, dog-eared book of select poems by Neruda. What got to me wasn't so much the reading material itself but the beautifully handwritten dedication on the flyleaf: "Dear ______, I will always love you. _____" it said simply.
Who were these people? Where are they now? Are they still together? Do they have children?
I realized that everyone leaves a mark in the world, though not always writ large for all to see. We leave a little bit of ourselves with everything and everyone we touch.
And then I think of my violin.
Itself a secondhand instrument, my violin came to me with a repaired crack on its belly and a chipped scroll. I've also made a few marks of my own since then.
I wonder, years from now when I'm gone, if the violin's next owner will notice the small notch in the scroll from when I carelessly bumped into my music stand?
Or if anyone would figure out that the glued bit on the right f-hole is from a repair job after I (again, thoughtlessly) played around with my bow's screw in the hole?
I cringe a little when I remember these things. They remind me that I should be more careful on the marks I leave and the impressions I make, especially on people.
For better or worse, though, (and I hope it's more of the former than the latter) I have added something to my violin's character. Irrevocably and indelibly, I've become a small chapter in its life and whether or not it is a significant chapter depends on how I act from now on.
Next time you see a used violin, take the time to look it over carefully. Each spot, each nick, each dent has a story to tell.
I like going to second hand thrift shops too. There are particularly good ones at the Marikina Shoe Expo. The thing I wonder about is why people thought to part with these things, especially those items which have endearing dedications. Maybe the value of an object is lost over time, and some remembrances of a happy past are thrown away, so that others, like you, may put a renewed value to them.
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