I couldn’t do it without my teacher – I thank my lucky stars over and over that I found him.
I’ve wanted to give up a hundred times, but I can’t bear to disappoint him. ;0)
Some weeks, the only way I get any practice in – between working, commuting and sleeping (whew!) – is to think, “Oh gosh, I can’t show up for my lesson no better on this piece than I was last week.”
His patient, calm, respectful manner keeps me going where I would have buckled and given up before.
He’s worth his weight in gold. This is corny, but I got tears in my eyes the other day thinking, “I would be so proud to have him as my son.” He’s a young married man with a three-year-old and when I’m with him, I feel for one hour what it would be like to have an adult child of my own, one that I would be very proud to have. He never gives up on me, pushes me gently to do a little better each week, doesn’t let me slack off, calmly argues me out of wrong-headed ways of looking at things – we have had some marvelous discussions about musical interpretation, phrasing, technique, respect for the composer and for the era and style of each piece, how to practice, how to do everything from file my nails to place my left thumb as I move down the neck.
He’s my secret weapon against the inertia and discouragement that attacks so many older musicians – in fact, he coined a really funny term for this period in every guitarist’s life: Interminable Intermediate Hell. ;0)
That’s that wide chasm where you’re no longer a beginner but you’re also not one of the elite, either. You’re in that place where the only thing you can do is keep challenging yourself each and every day to grow another millimeter towards perfection, knowing full-well that you’ll never get there, but by God, you’ll enjoy the climb.