Music, Memory and Friendship

“Music is one of life’s most important survival tools. It nourishes us, it gives us hope, helps us heal, and gives us the strength to keep going even in the toughest of times” …..musiciansunite.com

My mother decided early on that my sister and I would play the piano.  My first recollection of a real piano was seeing one in one of the houses my mother used to clean.  Right at the edge of the living room was the most beautiful piano I had ever laid eyes on. I was always fascinated by the grandeur of it. Of course I wasn’t allowed to touch it, but I would stand right at the edge and stare at it. My mother brought my sister and me a “toy” piano and that sparked my interest in learning to play even more. In elementary school, one of the teachers gave lessons after school for $.50 a week. My sister and I both started lessons. My mother, determined to cultivate that interest, worked so hard, and after some time, was able to buy us a real piano on credit.

By the time I reached junior high school, we were required to take music. I loved music so I was excited about learning a new instrument.  Most of the black kids wanted to be in the choir, but being different, I chose to play the violin. Choosing the violin made me the subject of tremendous ridicule in the neighborhood.  After all who did I think I was some little black girl playing the violin?  Not only did I play the violin, but I played classical music!  My mother encouraged me to keep my head high and try to ignore the comments.  It was in junior high school that I met a girl who would turn out to be like a sister to me.  She too was different. When it came time for her to pick her instrument, she chose the cello. I remember seeing that little girl struggling to carry her cello home.  We were always encouraged to take our instruments home over the weekends so we could practice. Although the kids ridiculed her, she kept walking with her head held high. I decided then and there that she would be my friend. We became two peas in a pod: her with her cello, and me with my violin – kindred spirits. She wore glasses and lived across the street from the school that I had been bussed to. Shortly afterwards she moved to what now is called park slope in Brooklyn, NY. Her room was so tiny with only enough room for her bed and a small dresser.  We didn’t care. We shared that space without a problem and sometimes during the summer months when it was so hot, we would sit out on the fire escape laughing and talking the night away. That began a long friendship with so many ups and downs. Pat and I were inseparable. If I wasn’t at her house, she was at mine. We had a special love for music – all music – classical, pop, R&B. We would spend hours playing the radio or if we were fortunate to be able to buy records, we would listen to our records over and over. We even dressed alike sometimes. I remember we both had a navy blue “pea coat” (that was the “In” thing during that time), and we brought light colored jeans to match. We would dress alike and walk the neighborhood – definitely a force to be reckoned with.

My mother always supported my friendships – so it was nothing for her to welcome whoever I brought home.  Pat’s mother worked all the time it seemed. We very rarely saw her; when she wasn’t working, she was sleeping. That left her and her brother alone most of the time. So, Pat wound up being like another sister to me.  She easily became part of the “Curry” household routine which included, among other things, getting our hair washed and straightened. She had a lot of hair and it was pretty coarse and therefore hard for her to manage. My mother would lovingly fix it for her – wash it and straighten with the hot comb.  We were inseparable all during junior high school and most of high school. I can’t remember exactly what happened or when but somewhere along the way to adulthood, we lost each other. Today, some 50+ years later, in memory of Pat, in my living room sits a cello, a violin and of course, my piano.

Follow-up:

One lazy afternoon sometime last year, I received a call from an unknown number.  Those calls I usually don’t answer but for some reason I decided to answer this one.  There on the other end was Pat – my long-lost friend. Evidently, she had gone through quite a lot to find me because, for one, I have a different last name now and I’ve moved around a lot in those 50+ years since we had been in contact. I think what struck me most was that someone actually remembered me and took steps to reconnect.  Although I’ll never know all the ins and outs of those years in between, my heart reaches out once again, forgetting those things that pulled us apart and reaching forward to a new normal. What a delightful surprise!!!! Here’s to music, memory and friendship.

“In the sweetness of friendship let there be laughter and sharing of pleasures. For in the dew of little things does the heart find its morning and is refreshed.” ……..Khalil Gibran