It’s been quite a while since my last post. The summer came and went quickly. Some highlights include the Willy Street Chamber Players season, my attendance at the ROPA conference as noted in the previous post, a trip out to California to attend my cousin’s retirement from the US Army and to spend time with my aunt who I had not seen in four years, my participation in the final season of the Token Creek festival, and a number of home projects that finally came to fruition.

The summer was sadly capped off by the death of our beloved dog Rosie in the early morning on September 20th, the last day of summer. She had been dealing with cancer for nearly two years and while there were some tough times, she dealt with everything like a champ and seemed on the whole to enjoy her life fully up to the very end. She died peacefully in her sleep with me, Pike and Megan all close by.

I adopted Rosie at the end of 2017, just after I bought my first house in Madison. I was spending a lot of time away from home and Pike was in need of some companionship that I felt, as a human, I could not provide for him. My dog hikers knew I was looking for a dog that would be a good fit for Pike and they found Rosie, who Pike had chosen to sit next to in the van on the way to and from hikes. Pike’s admiration for her was a strong signal to me that there was something special about her. She came home to us the day before Christmas that year.

I have countless stories to tell about Rosie. She was the boss lady. She was indestructible. She was independent, assertive, gentle, radiant, goofy, stubborn, loud, affectionate and loving. Her presence is deeply missed and an adjustment that will take quite a bit of time for all of us.

I debated whether or not to include her in my teaching at the new house, but I decided to do so as of the end of last year. My decision was based on a few things.

First, Rosie absolutely loved people. I had to stop taking her to the dog park because she would run away almost immediately and I would find her hanging out with another person or people on the far end of the park, simultaneously charming them and annoying them with her bids for physical affection. Instructions for loving Roser included “keep one moving hand on the dog at all times.” This was a nuisance for some, but I really enjoyed her bids for attention. It was always fun having people over because she got so excited. I wanted her to have contact with people and being a studio dog made that possible on a day to day basis.

Second, having a dog like Rosie present for lessons immediately sets a certain kind of mood. She was always light-hearted and enthusiastic and loving and after the initial greeting, I would have to tell her to “go away” which didn’t really mean go away literally, it was the only phrase I could use to detach her from either me or my student so that the lesson could begin. At that point she would lay down in the room and just be present. I want my lessons to be light-hearted, enthusiastic and present and Rosie made that easier for me to accomplish and I think I tend to default to a more serious kind of instruction without her. I figured having her there would benefit my students, Rosie and myself.

Of course because of her size I made sure that she was only present with students who outweighed her and I made sure to get consent from students before introducing her. My one concern was, knowing about her health problems that my students might become attached to her and I didn’t want to force any of them to go through the inevitable loss with me. However, I think grieving the death of a pet is something we accept when we decide to love that pet. There are so many things in life that are not permanent and learning how to let go and to confront loss and process loss in a healthy way is a skill that every human will need at some point.

After she died I took a little bit of time off from teaching and when my students returned, we had a chance to talk about Rosie and process a little bit of that feeling together. I realized that the side benefit of having her in lessons was that my grief about her death has been shared by more people who loved her and therefore feels more held. It feels easier to process this loss in a sense knowing that Rosie was appreciated by my students and their families.

Not too much else to share this time. MSO just ratified our new contract, which is something I’ve been working towards for the past three years. Of course that is not a normal amount of time to be working on a contract negotiation, but COVID happened right before we were set to negotiate this contract.

My new cello is still a joy to play. It is far more sensitive to weather and seasonal changes than I expected. I had a post adjustment a couple of days ago to loosen the soundpost a bit. I’d had it tightened in the summer to up the power a bit, but when the temps got cold last week, the cello must have contracted and made the post even tighter. This sensitivity is something that I think goes hand in hand with the expressivity of this cello. A sensitive instrument means an instrument that can respond to the various changes in my own playing and therefore can teach me about my ears, my body, my internal state to some extent. An instrument that does not respond to change may mean fewer trips to the luthier to have seams glued and posts adjusted, but it also means that it may not really be able to fully enmesh with the player.

That’s all for now