When Stephen was in middle school, he begged and pleaded for a guitar. For reasons we still have not been able to reconstruct, his parents belittled his budding interest in music and gave him a cheap toy guitar unsuitable for real play. (I'm not making this up--his school music teacher said as much.)
In a fitting contrast that represents the differences between our childhoods (and our own characters as children) I was forced to take piano lessons against my will and resisted the only way I could--by not practicing. I failed to touch a single ivory key from week to week, and somehow got away with that. So, I was the indulged and spoiled child who took everything for granted, and Stephen was...well, according to Stephen he was perfect.
My piano work stoppage was all the more insulting to my family because my paternal grandmother, Harriett Bolz (1907-1995), was a recognized contemporary composer. She only played the piano, but managed to compose music for entire symphonies. When I was little she used to play my favorite of her works, "Duo Scherzando for Trumpet in Bb and Piano," while I would whirl around her living room like the world's most ungainly and ungraceful ballerina. I managed to avoid knocking things over during my flights of fancy, but just barely. My father, uncles, and cousins were all dedicated musicians who performed everywhere from school bands to local clubs. One of my cousins, Karl Bolz, is a professional musician who along with his talented wife Iliana has a Latin dance band called Eta Carina. As must be obvious by now, I have always been an embarrasment to the Bolz musical name.
And, to tell the truth, I did not have much real interest--until I saw the blue guitar of my dreams. It was supposed to be Stephen's guitar we were shopping for. Steve at Mr. Music in Allston allowed us to compare the used Martins to a new Yamaha FG720S, and true to his word we could not tell any difference. The Yamaha has a solid top, great sound, and excellent construction. As a relative beginner, Stephen was already leaning towards this affordable alternative when I saw it...the Ocean Blue Burst model. Oooh...it's so blue. The two halves of me finally merged: the musical Bolz genes and the Corulli passion for shopping. I was unstoppable.
Like the dear husband he is, Stephen pushed me to get it; from his own experience he feels strongly that any interest in learning a musical instrument should be wildly encouraged. I thought he should still get his own, too, because I don't share well. (It's an only child thing.) He's too frugal and self-restrained for that, though. (It's a Wallace thing.)
Now the fingers on my left hand are sore at the tips from learning and practicing my basic chords--and the guitar is hardly nine hours old! See, Grandma, I've already turned over a new leaf.
I named the guitar Harriett.
(Photo by Koeido Musical Instrument Shop at http://www.rakuten.co.jp/koeido)
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