No music skills required to enjoy life in a major key

I faked my way through orchestra class for an entire school year.

In the summer of 1977 we moved from Alaska to Arizona and I discovered, when I started 4th grade, that if I took orchestra I didn’t have to go to P.E. – an ideal arrangement for a young boy not yet acclimated to the scorching Phoenix heat.

My parents got me a violin and I dutifully lugged it to school every day. I didn’t know a thing about playing it and was too shy to raise my hand and say anything, so I sat in the back and mimicked the other kids, moving my bow up and down along with the others, but hovering a millimeter or so above the strings so that I wouldn’t make an unpleasant sound and draw attention to myself.

I don’t know how, but I got away with this for nearly a year. I was finally caught when I had to audition for a seat in the 5th grade orchestra and couldn’t even play the scales.

I never learned to play violin because I avoided the uncomfortable, fumbling early stages and thought silence was better than making unpleasant noises.

Today my son Benjamin plays viola and son Nicholas plays cello. They have excellent music teachers: Christopher Burns at Narrows View Intermediate School and Matthew Grenzner at Curtis Junior High. Both pushed through the early days of lessons and now play well.

Last month they realized they both knew the same song and played an impromptu duet. It was beautiful. It was graceful.

I’m learning more about music through their experiences. A few weeks ago, Ben and I had a great conversation about the difference between minor and major keys. He explained how songs in a minor key tend to sound dark, sad or ominous, like Darth Vader’s “Bum Bum Bum bumpa Dum” theme in Star Wars, which is in G minor.

Songs in a major key tend to sound happier, livelier and more joyful – “Jingle Bells,” for example, is typically played in G major. The difference between the two tones requires only a slight adjustment of the fingers.

Last July I attended a YMCA conference in California where I witnessed a powerful presentation by Bryan Stevenson, the founder and executive director of the Equal Justice Initiative in Montgomery, Alabama.

His three main points have echoed in my head for months: Be proximate, change the narrative and don’t give up hope.

Proximate is being present in the location, in the moment; it’s being attentive to our self and the needs and voices of others. It’s accepting the experience for what it is, pleasant or otherwise.

If I had been proximate in 4th grade, I would have said, “I want to learn how to play violin, so I’m going spend time with this instrument, and I understand that I will make unpleasant sounds as I learn.”

Today I am proximate when I am honest with myself and when I intentionally spend time listening to others.

I’m keenly aware, too, of the power of changing the narrative. Just as a musician can switch from a dark, ominous minor key to a bright, cheerful major key with the slightest change of finger placement, we, too, can shift our thoughts and conversations from anger, fear or disgust to love, compassion and empathy by making small changes to the words and phrases we use.

It sounds difficult to do in this highly-charged time of divisiveness, but I discovered this past year that if I set aside words like “liberal,” “Republican,” “immigrant,” “bigot,” “trans” or other labels and just use the word “beloved” for people, my thoughts and conversations change immediately.

When one of my sons is frustrated with his homework, I encourage him to tack on the word “yet” to any task he says he can’t do, and it changes his perspective. We can change the stories in our heads and hearts with just a single word.

This past year I have learned so much about myself and so many other people by being proximate. It’s not always easy or pleasant, but it is enriching. I’ve learned how powerfully a few simple words can change a story. I’ve learned that both techniques can open up a world of grace and beauty.

Andrew Homan of University Place is a network administrator at the YMCA of Pierce and Kitsap Counties. He’s one of five reader columnists who wrote for this page in 2019. Reach him at NoelNHoman@gmail.com and read some of his other work at www.andrewhoman.com