Accordion Memories

          

My Hohner Accordion

             Often, conversations where I mention my accordion playing start with… 

            “What have you been up to these days?” a friend might ask.

 

            “I got out my accordion am playing some each day….It’s fun reconnecting with it because I haven’t played in ages, ” I reply.

 

            I know that if I tell people that I am practicing my guitar, or banjo, or dulcimer there would be more recognition such as… “Oh, I didn’t know you played.”  Something about the accordion stops people in their tracks because they are so unfamiliar with it. It’s not a common or popular instrument in the United States.

           Most of the time, people don’t respond when I mention my accordion practicing. What I don’t go into is that my accordion connects me to an unusual past, a time long ago that I now like to remember.  I didn’t realize this connection I have to my accordion until recently.

 

            Because the accordion is an not an ordinary instrument, it appeals to me now.  I didn’t used to feel that way. When I was a little girl, all I ever wanted was to play the piano.  A piano is what I wished for when blowing out my birthday candles or wishing on the first star in the night sky.  When I was eight years old and living in Buenos Aires, Argentina, my parents bought me a child-sized German made Hohner accordion.  It was white pearl with three change of registers and a keyboard that was less than two octaves.  I knew then, that I was not going to get a piano.

 

            Mother found a German music teacher who gave accordion lessons in her home in Belgrano, a suburb of Buenos Aires.  She drove me to my lesson every week after school.  She, too, started taking lessons and bought herself a full-size dark red Hohner accordion. My lessons were in Spanish because my teacher only spoke German and Spanish.  Because she was a strict, I learned to read music, something I’ve appreciated all my life. Mother and I took lessons for several years and played duets together at the annual recital held in the teacher’s back garden in early December, the beginning of summer.

                                     Mother and I playing at a recital in Buenos Aires (cir 1954)

 

            The accordion was popular in Argentina especially in musical groups playing the romantic rhythms of the tango.  As a child, I heard the mournful, haunting sounds and staccato rhythms of this music all around me.  The high-walled back garden of our house was adjacent to the Coq D’Or Bar and Restaurant.  In the summer the tango music wafted through my open bedroom window late into the night.  My German Swiss friend Marga, who lived across the street, had a college-aged brother who played the accordion in their walled-in back garden.  Next door lived los Alemanes, (the Germans).  We didn’t often speak to them but on Sundays we heard them singing nationalist German songs accompanied by an accordion.

 

            My accordion lessons ended when I was twelve and we moved to Washington DC.   This was my first time living in the U.S. and I struggled to fit in with American kids my age.  I never talked about accordion lessons for fear of kids making fun of me and noticing I was different. I knew American kids did not grow up playing the accordion. Because I wanted to be like them I didn’t talk of my life abroad at all.  Over time I forgot the accordion.

 

            It wasn’t until 50 years later when Art and I retired to Vermont, that I thought about playing the accordion again.  I had a neighbor who also played the accordion when he was young and was playing again.  We “connected” over talking about our long ago accordion experiences and I bought myself a used Hohner…adult size now.  He encouraged me to practice, gave me some music and occasionally we’d get together and play duets. 

            When I told Mother, who was in her nineties by then, that I had started playing the accordion again.  She replied, “I would give anything to hold an accordion once again.” Now I know what she meant.

 

            My Hohner accordion is with me now in Asheville.  During the many months at home because of the Covid19 pandemic I have been inspired to get it out and play more.  Yes, I am rusty and don’t play very well, but when I practice, my fingers seem to find the familiar keys even though my arms tire holding and managing the bellows.  Other than hearing myself play the familiar music I have, I like reconnecting with that long ago past in Buenos Aires.  Playing my Hohner brings me close Mother as I remember how we played together.  She would be happy knowing I’m practicing again.  Recently as I was playing some simple Christmas carols I saw myself sitting on the wide stones of our floor to ceiling stone fireplace in Vermont playing on Christmas Eve surrounded by family and friends.

 

            I have come full circle in life since I was 12 years old. Now what I like most of all about my accordion is that owning one, and playing it is not something anyone else I know has or does.  I like to think that sets me apart as being different and is proof of my adventuresome life abroad. At last, at 75 I am grateful for all the things that make me unusual and distinguish me from others around me. I celebrating that,  but won’t be giving any public concerts anytime soon.      

 

 

 

Zoom Yoga

          

         “Hi, Kristina…so nice to see you today,” says my friend Mary with a big smile as she welcomes me into her Zoom Yoga class. 

            “How are things in Rochester?” I ask her.

            “Good,” she always says.  She might add, “we had 8 inches of snow yesterday. Or “Dick is doing well and it’s beautiful up here.”  (Mary has a way of elongating words like beautiful in her enthusiasm for life.)

 

            Every Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday morning at 10 a.m. I am transported to Mary’s living room on Gt. Hawk Mountain where I have visited many times. The high ceilings with skylights and the tall windows that are framed like a painting of the outdoors are so familiar.  We lived at Gt. Hawk for 20 years in a house on Sparrow Hawk Road, just a short walk from Mary’s.  Mary and husband Dick, have been friends for over 25 years. We all came and went from Gt. Hawk to overseas postings and second homes in Florida, New Jersey, New Hampshire and other places.  We often saw each other during the summers when we were back “home” in Rochester, Vermont.  We kept in touch through Christmas letters and occasional phone calls.

 

            On a recent visit to Gt. Hawk in September we spent time together, catching up on our lives where we had left off.  During lunches and dinner out, and visits on their terrace we talked of “old times” and dear friends at Gt. Hawk who are no longer living. We talked of our families and even our parents.  Mine, who  first built at Gt. Hawk in 1970 and hers who both visited  often and are now buried in the Woodlawn Cemetery in Rochester.  Our children grew up coming and going from Gt. Hawk.  We share a history of a small Vermont community we love more than any place in the world.

 

            “ What are you doing with yourselves while you live up here? ,” I asked knowing that at this time of year they are always at their condo in Ft. Pierce, Florida for warmer weather. The Covid19 pandemic has driven them to the much safer environment in Vermont.

            “I have my “yogis” that I continue with via Zoom,” Mary told me.  “I do a regular Yoga class through my church in Ft. Pierce and I continue to teach from here on Zoom.”

            “Oh, I miss my Yoga class in Asheville,” I told her.  I thought of my attempts to try short Yoga sessions on U-Tube via the IPad and how that just had not stuck with me.

            “Why don’t you join my Yoga class from Asheville?” she surprised me by asking.

            

            I knew Mary taught Yoga and yet I had never inquired about how she got started.  This visit she told me she began to want to teach Yoga during the years she and Dick lived in Moscow while he headed the American Express office.  She studied and took classes herself, became certified, and has taught for the last 20 years.  She always has students wherever they are living which now is winter in Florida and summer in Vermont.

 

            The truth is that it has taken me time to warm up to, and sign up for, activities of all kinds that now take place on Zoom.  Of all the Zoom activities now available as we stay home, I could not imagine doing any kind of exercise class on a computer screen and be able to follow it.  With such a warm invitation from Mary to join her class, I thought…”why not?” 

 

            I confess I’ve been doing Zoom Yoga 3 times a week for almost 2 months now and I can’t imagine my life without it.  Beyond reaping the benefits of stretching, relaxing, and deep breathing, I get to visit three times a week with someone I share a long history with, even though she is in Vermont and I am in Asheville.  The isolation of many months of living with Covid19 has made me long for old friends and connections to the past more than ever.

 

            Other “yogis” (as Mary calls us) start to log on to Zoom from Florida as she welcomes each one personally before the start of each class.  Over the weeks I’ve become familiar with her friends in Ft. Pierce. I take note of their suntans, their short sleeved shirts and bare feet in contrast to Mary’s sweatshirts in my long sleeves and warm socks as it cools down in the Western North Carolina Mountains.  I catch glimpses of people’s homes in coastal Florida – lots of windows, lanais and warm sunshine pouring in.  I listen to the chats with each friend and discover this a group of liberal transplanted Floridians all doing “good works” through their church and other organizations. They show up regularly with enthusiasm to this Yoga class.

            

            Mary opens her Zoom class 10 minutes early to make time to personally greet everyone and have them check in.  Sometimes Dick strolls by with his morning coffee and sweet roll and says hello.  It is a warm and friendly group. Although I’m the outsider I love being there.  I quickly discovered that Mary is an experienced and committed instructor. I am impressed by how she adapts her class to teaching via Zoom while still able to check up on each person’s form.  We do not move around as if we were in a large Yoga studio but she works us hard sitting in a chair or on the floor, and often standing for balance poses. She varies the movements and poses we  work on each session. No two classes are alike which makes it far more interesting for me. Mary is full of praise always saying "perfect", or "that's it...you can do it" .  I know the power of positive reinforcement is key to excellent teaching..  I have such a sense of well-being as she concludes each class with a long shavasana relaxation.  

 

            “Thank you so much, for coming to class today,” Mary says just as my living room clock is striking eleven. She reminds us that our donations towards her Yoga Ministry go to causes like the California fires, Gulf Coast hurricanes,  and this month's  damage from the hurricane Eta in Honduras. 

            “Look forward to seeing you all next time…and stay well.”   We say our good byes and log off.

             As I move the furniture back in place in the dining room and gather up my block and strap and yoga mat to put away, I marvel at how well this Yoga class works on Zoom.  I put things away with a sense of well-being and purpose I did not have before I became one of Mary’s “yogis”. 

 

I often send a thank you via text after class.  I always get an up lifting reply which carries me through to our next meeting...

 

Oh Kristina, I am so grateful and happy that you enjoy the classes. I LOVE that you’ve joined and you and Art have a Fort Pierce family already waiting for you when you come and visit! These days are very stressful and difficult. It’s a tremendous boost for me to be with everyone and bring something positive and healthy into our lives, even just for an hour. I also love that through our donations we are making a difference in the lives of others. Thank you so much for your encouragement and support, Kristina! 

I look forward to seeing you Thursday!! ❤️🙏🤩

 Art and Mary on a hike in September...