Mrs. Bell, part 2

I found myself thinking about Mrs. Bell since that last post. She was a unique lady and for some reason she liked me. I don't think it was just because I had a fondness for Beethoven and Chopin.

When we were around 14 or 15, she invited a group of the girls from my class to her home for a slumber party. Most of us were piano students, but not all of us. I'm not sure why she thought to do this for us, but we had a really good time that night. We were given the run of her home and she went to her room and left us to our girl talk. I'm not sure I would have done such a thing for a group of giggly, boy-crazy teenage girls, if I had been in her shoes.

One year she took a group of us to San Antonio for Christmas shopping. Again, I don't have any idea why she put herself out for us. It was my first experience of independent Christmas shopping without the influence of my parents. I had a grand time selecting something for each member of my family and feeling all grown-up. It was a rare moment of semi-independence and it felt good.

Sometime during my high-school years Mrs. Bell took a tour of Europe. She brought each of her students a souvenir from that trip. I received two items: a dried sprig of Edelweiss (to commemorate my having sung Edelweiss from the Sound of Music during one recital) and a shiny sixpence that I was to put in my shoe on my wedding day. I still have both.

When I was a Senior, she arranged for a relative overseas to purchase a jade ring, which she gave me for my graduation present. She also arranged for me to have a Senior recital, which appalled me. I had intended to stop music lessons at the end of my Junior year, but she had her heart set on my having a Senior recital and my parents applied gentle pressure for me to continue on and make the old lady happy. I never in a million years thought anyone would actually attend the thing, but I was pleasantly surprised that a respectable number of friends, church members and relatives did show up for an evening that included Beethoven sonatas and a Chopin etude.

I disappointed her in one respect. She was always very complimentary on my ability to sight-read and on my touch at the piano. I refused, however, to memorize pieces. I just didn't see the point when it was easy enough to have the music right there handy. At this point in my life I would probably enjoy the ability to tear into a Chopin waltz, but memorization of music was never easy for me and I just never worked toward that goal. Even though I was frequently told about her daughter, who had studied music in college and could play all those sonatas without the crutch of sheet music, it just wasn't something that was important to me and she never could motivate me to feel otherwise. It wasn't for lack of trying.

I can remember music lessons in the frame building that sat just off the football field. There was no air-conditioning or reliable heat, so there were days that your fingers nearly froze to the keys or that you sweated a big wet spot on the old bench the exact shape of your butt. There were days I nearly suffocated, when the air was still and hot. Mrs. Bell was fond of lavish application of the perfume Tabu, and the strong fumes would surround my head and make me feel faint.

I can remember one afternoon when she showed up at the house with records of the Beethoven sonatas that I was learning for that Senior recital. To that point I had been learning the music, but had never heard the pieces interpreted by a concert-level pianist. She sat there on the couch with me as we listened through the Moonlight Sonata and Sonata Pathetique. It made a huge difference in my understanding of how the pieces should sound.

I can remember her rings. Her husband had been prosperous and she wore rings set with huge flawless diamonds. I've always lusted after diamonds, even at that early age, and those sparkling rings were particularly impressive.

Come to think of it, she probably did not need the fees she charged for piano lessons. And she certainly did not need the aggravation of a bunch of kids around. She had to have loved what she did to put up with us.

I never fail to think of her when I listen to a CD of Beethoven or Chopin pieces. Those two composers are firmly fixed in my mind with the lady who worked with me for so many years and who really thought I had talent. I just wish I had had a little more than I did. I wish I could have been the pianist she wanted me to be.

LSW

Fifth Grade and Mrs. Bell

I've been listening to my very large collection of Christmas music this week. Several years ago I was in charge of switching out the music on our office telephone "hold" and I began acquiring a wide variety of Christmas CDs for use during December. Over the years the collection has grown until it's gotten quite obese. (There's that collector's fever thing again.) This year I was managing to hold down the purchase of new CDs until this past week, when I discovered a new seasonal album by Sarah Mclachlan (Wintersong - it's great) and one by Il Divo and a double album of Reba McEntire.

I was pleasantly surprised when I dragged the Christmas CD tote out from under the bed earlier in the week. Last year I had purchased a number of CDs on Christmas clearance and had never listened to them. So I've had a lot of new listening experience this week.

Today I noticed Jimmy Buffet's Christmas album back in the corner of the tote and immediately remembered why I had purchased it. The title track is Christmas Island. This is a cute little song that has been in the back of my mind since fifth grade and it periodically pops in and sashays through my mind and then saunters out. I had tried to find it on a Christmas album for years, but it wasn't until the last year or so that I found it.

Back in the mid-sixties the Smiley school hosted a Christmas program every year. All the classes participated, from 1st through 12th. There were skits, plays, soloists, and a variety of other offerings to entertain the community. (Keep in mind that Smiley had not much to offer in the line of entertainment. People actually looked forward to the Christmas program.)

The lower grades would practice for weeks in music class, singing along under the direction of Mrs. Bell. She had a wide acquaintance with music, both popular and classical, and would come up with some unique numbers for these performances. One year our song was Christmas Island. It was new to me and to my classmates and I liked it's jaunty tune and unusual lyrics.

Let's get away from sleigh bells,

let's get away from snow

Let's make a break some Christmas, Dear,

I know the place to go

How'd ya like to spend Christmas on Christmas Island?

How'd ya like to spend the holiday away across the sea?

How'd ya like to spend Christmas on Christmas Island?

How'd ya like to hang a stocking on a great big coconut tree?

How'd ya like to stay up late, like the islanders do?

Wait for Santa to sail in with your presents in a canoe.

If you ever spend Christmas on Christmas Island

You will never stray for everyday

Your Christmas dreams come true.

Whenever I listen to this song, I remember those Christmas programs. I remember one year, just after the Beatles became so popular, our teacher got hold of several of the 45 rpm records and assembled groups of us to lipsync to this radical music. We wore Beatle wigs and rocked out and probably shocked the heck out of that little community.

I remember one Christmas, when I was older, playing the oldest sister in a play that was presented by Mrs. Bell's piano students. I don't remember having to sing in that production, but I did play a piece on the piano. By that time the poor woman had accepted that I did not have a voice for solos and kept me on the piano. Thanks to Mrs. Bell, I learned a lovely arrangement of Silent Night that I used for years as an offertory during December church services.

There were many who did not appreciate Mrs. Bell and her drive to get the students to performance level. There were times when she pushed me until I was ready to scream. I took piano for nine years under her and gave nine recitals that she drilled me hard in preparation for. But it's probably partly due to her that I have never suffered from stage fright and am always willing to get up in front of an audience and make a silly ass of myself. She taught me to have fun entertaining others.

And she taught me an appreciation for all kinds of music. If not for her, I might never have that cheery little Christmas Island bouncing through my thoughts this time of year.

LSW