Music: the Medicine of the Soul (or the highlight of a childhood)

Music has been a big part of my life, giving me many music related memories. My interest in music came pretty early, mostly because of how much a part of my parents’ lives it was. Growing up I was surrounded by music in many forms including music on the radio, records that my parents played, cassettes belonging to my sisters and I, and music at church.

            One of my most vivid memories of music as a child was at my church. In Sunday school we would learn songs and then perform them in front of the congregation every once in a while. Being the mature five-year-old that I was, whenever we performed, I was slightly embarrassed by my classmates (mostly the boys) who during our performances would frequently mess around and not sing. I took these songs very seriously and would sometimes practice at home to make sure I knew the words and corresponding hand motions that went with the song. I specifically remember one performance where we sang the song, and throughout the whole thing I was looking around making sure that I wasn’t doing anything wrong or standing out from everyone else. As I got older and started developing a pride and sense of embarrassment I began enjoying these performances less, but I still cherish the memories of singing as a group when I was young and carefree.

            Another early memory of music comes from piano recitals. I began playing piano early in my life because whatever my older sister Grace was doing (in this case taking piano lessons) was what I wanted to do, as a typical younger sister. My first few piano recitals were actually some of my best performances, because I was able to actually enjoy them! As a 3 ½ year old I didn’t yet understand what there was to be afraid of, and I thought it was no different from practicing at home. I only remember pieces of these first recitals, but according to my mom, anytime I got stuck or forgot a part of a song I was playing, I would turn to my teacher sitting in the front row of chairs and ask her what came next. Sadly, I’ve since realized that this isn’t the best plan of action when forgetting notes in a piano recital. I distinctly remember being about 5 years old and at a piano recital. While I was watching some of the older kids play, I was just astonished at how good they were. I couldn’t believe that they were able to move their fingers that fast and play so many notes at the same time. These experiences were a part of what has inspired me to keep playing piano to this day.

            One thing that my sisters and I did to entertain ourselves at the ages of 10, 6, and 4 was daily dance parties. We got our own CD player when I was about 5, which introduced us to a whole new realm of opportunities when it came to our own music. Some of our favorite CDs were a Kids’ Bop track, a collection of bible story songs, and the soundtrack from Veggie Tales’ “The pirates who don’t do anything”. All three had lots of good dance songs that we would use as background music to run in circles around our shared room, jump up and down and yell. This was always a fun time, but the second we heard one of our parents knock on the door, we would begin the quick and rehearsed protocol for such occasions. Grace would run to the door, I would run to pause the CD, and Laura would pick up anything from the floor. That way, we made sure that our parents never knew what a party we were having. All of us probably had some sort of idea that our parents could here every word and every thump of feet through the floor, but ignoring that was what made it fun.

            Overall, my early memories of music are very positive, and there are many of them. Though some of my most vivid memories are the ones that I didn’t enjoy, like realizing that people actually pay attention when you get up in from of them and play piano, I know that there were many more positive experiences with music in my childhood, and I know there are more to come.  

An Odd Dog

I recently lost my dog of 10 years, Sadie. She was a beagle, but not your average beagle. With her short snout and legs, many people thought her to be a puppy, even in her old age of 15 years. She spent the first 5 years of her life working in a U of I laboratory as a dogfood tester. Because of this she developed many strange tendencies that carried over into her life with my family.

One of her strangest habits was her communication. Being essentially raised in a lab, she wasn’t ever allowed to bark. Normally, beagles are fairly loud, but because of her past, Sadie never barked. Especially earlier in her life she made lots of grunting noises when she wanted something or was enjoying attention. At some points if she felt left out of something, she was able to whine almost like a cat. On many occasions we heard her from a distance and thought that the sound she was making came from our neighbor’s cat, only to find out it was her.

            Another of Sadie’s bizarre habits was her strong hatred of grass. During her time as a dogfood tester she spent almost all of her time indoors, so she wasn’t used to the feeling of surfaces other than concrete on her paws. When we got her and first brought her home it took almost a week to convince her to walk out onto the grass. Throughout the rest of her life she never really got over this. She would put up with walking on the grass, but only when she had to. When taken on walks she walked on the top of the curb along the street and would only walk into the grass to use the bathroom. Part of this issue stemmed from her early life in a lab, but the other part was due to her severe seasonal allergies. Being allergic to grass, anytime she had to walk around in it on her short little legs, she got very itchy. Even being on various allergy medicines throughout her life, she learned to hate the grass and being outside in general.

            One of the things we especially loved about Sadie was the games she liked to play. She never learned or liked to play fetch like a normal dog. Instead, we would bring her into the house and fling a sock across the floor for her to chase after, sniff, and leave alone. Every time it went flying, she acted like she thought it was something worthy of catching, but upon further inspection proved only to be a sock. Overall, Sadie was a very quiet, shy, strange dog with many peculiar behaviors, but most importantly an amazing, loving dog and a big part of our family.

Michigan Water

The amazing feeling of running into the freezing water and simultaneously wanting to stay there forever and get out of it as soon as possible cannot be described. That is one of the reasons that every summer for the past ten years I have looked forward to my family’s trip to Northport, Michigan. This memory is only one of the many specific moments that I associate with the town of Northport.

Some people enjoy extravagant, expensive vacations to exotic places in other countries, but I would much rather spend time in the house that feels like my second home on the beach of Northport. The first year my family traveled there I was six years old, so I don’t remember much, except for one vivid memory. That year it rained for almost the whole week we were in Michigan, which my parents were not happy about. The majority of my sisters and my time was spent inside of the house trying not to get burned alive by the hot lava that consumed the entire first floor of the house except for the kitchen. We had to come up with elaborate plans and work arounds to get places, as well as save each other when someone accidentally touched a toe to the green shag carpet that in our minds was toxic green lava. Of course, anyone who was an adult was immune to the lava, so our parents could carry us across the room to get places, but that was too easy! Anyone who did that was weak and got silent treatment for a solid 5 minutes before the other two of us cracked and gave into their begging.

Another specific memory that I associate with this photograph is the combination of 8 years of our picture tradition. Each year after the first two we have gone swimming in Cathead bay. This bay is usually fairly empty because visitors have to do a ½ mile walk through the woods to get to the beach. Because of that we are free to run all the way down and up the beach and swim for hours on end in the clear, freezing water that we were all immune to until we turned ten. The ½ mile walk through the woods was always plagued by many mosquitos, (somehow they all disappeared as soon as we passed the edge of the tree line) but was rewarded as soon as we broke out of the woods and into a sprint across the burning sand that filled our tennis shoes within seconds. All pain was forgotten at the thought of being covered in Lake Michigan’s beautiful water. The sand began to be littered with rocks as we got closer to the edge of the water. My dad and I would later go back to look through those rocks for flat ones fit to skip. As we crossed the top of the sand ridge just before the beach, we started yelling to each other, mostly unintelligible, excited words.

As soon as reaching the edge of the water we would furiously take off shoes and clothes and dump our bags onto the sand. When my mom reached the beach a few seconds later, she would give us a dramatic countdown. At the end of it we all raced into the water until we got too bogged down and fell forward, laughing the whole time. Every year my mom makes sure to get a picture of this moment, because it has become such a special tradition.

         Even now, back in Illinois, I can imagine and almost feel the water. I can see the blue water and taste the cold breeze. Memories like this cannot be imitated or forgotten. I’m not sure how many more years my family will continue to go to Michigan, but I do know that memories like this will always have a special place in my heart. I hope to someday take my kids to a place like this so that they can make their own happy memories. I think everyone deserves to experience moments of stress-free, pure joy, and I sincerely hope that other people have found that in their own way.