Wherever I go, there I am.

(reposted from http://www.violinist.com/blog/tajax/)

Jun. 4, 2005 at 7:38 PM (MST)

Leaving Marks

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.

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