MUSIC: The Story Behind the Story for Thanksgiving

Happy Thanksgiving! As this marks the beginning of the end of the year I want to give you guys a little filler behind a previous post to be thankful. I am thankful for my parents and family and in this specific behind the scenes post My Mom.

Every story has an untold truth behind it... This is the one behind the amazing time I had when at Interlochen Music Camp that I shared previously with you guys in the entry titled: MUSIC: a happy short story.

My mom figured it out early enough, I was, am and will always be a hyperactive kid inside. When I turn 90 years young, I will continue to be that same crazy kid that one day decided music was everything to me, that I wanted to direct orchestras, compose ensemble music, perform in front of hundreds and thousands of people. I learned how to read music and the alphabet at the same time, that is how lucky I was to discover passion in music at a young age, and I do not take that for granted. At first music was an exhaust, a decompressing way of letting energy out of my body without bouncing off walls (or so my mother says). I would not stand still, and suddenly when classical or acoustic music came on the radio my mom would crank up the house speakers and her non-still kid would barely even blink.

"It was great to have found a way for my son to stay still" is what my lovely mother always says with a grin on her face.

I started studying violin, then changed to piano, then finally fell in love with percussion to fall in an almost definitive way with classic marimba and xylophone. Earlier in the blog I have told you about when I made my dad happy, that was ONE of the best days. This is the story of making my mom proud like never before, without her even seeing my presentation:

I was 15 years old and was at a music camp in Michigan, studying and preparing for the final presentation as a result of the month and a half of camp at the Interlochen Arts Theatre I was nervous and since I did not have a cellphone or internet with which to contact my mom, I would call her every day (yeah like an animal... haha). 

In the last week of camp the room leader woke me up at midnight. "You have a call" he said in a cold and sleepy tone. I walked almost unconsciously towards the office nearby out in an extremely cold night towards that damn phone. There's nothing worst than not being prepared for something that you think you are...

"Hello? Hi dad-"  My dads VERY SERIOUS tone on the other end interrupted me with a warning 

-"I am going to put your mother on the phone ok? You have to be strong for her" - "uhh yeah ok" I answered with a trembling voice.

What ensued after was my mom all broken voiced trying to be strong and not break in a million pieces while telling me grandma died. I still had about a week before I came back home so she called me when it happened sad because of what happened and because I would not be able to make the funeral with my entire family (my mom's family is huge - 12 uncles and aunts and LOTS of cousins).

I was as confused as could be... But mothers have a sixth sense and she immediately stopped me from asking anything and said

"you have to stay, you have to finish the camp and the marimba piece you are preparing to present... Make me and grandma proud".

I have never felt so alone in my life as that night when I hung up the phone in the dark and cold camp in Michigan, thousands of kilometers away from home... And yet, I never felt so driven, so inspired to do something...

I performed a piece called the Tambourin Chinois (video of the piece at the end), and my teacher even gave me the opportunity to introduce my own piece. In doing so let the audience know I was dedicating this performance to my grandmother (they probably thought she was in the audience, because people looked around when I said it was for her).

My mother was back home, my family in tears... and I was overcome by happiness, pride, smiles... I bowed to the applause from the theatre with the pianist that played the song with me, tears were flowing out of my eyes, but the smile remained on my face more than ever.

As I left the stage, I looked up, wiped my eyes and whispered as if both my mother and my grandmother were there with me:

"I love you moms"