I sold my cello the other day. It had been my trusted companion since 1956. I never named it. I thought that it was silly to name an inanimate object, and I still do.
My cello took me to many musical show productions from Bala Cynwyd Jr H S through Lower Merion Sr H S, through the University of Pennsylvania Penn Players and the Mask and Wig (all male except me) orchestra.
Apparently, I was an accomplished cellist and musician (I also played the flute, the piano, and the cymbals). One of my teachers, the Tchaikowsky prize winning Hirofumi Kanno asked me if it would be OK with me if he used my fingering in one of the cello repertoire pieces. I told him of course. The University of Miami offered me the equivalent of a football scholarship on the cello. My father had a fit and I went to the University of Pennsylvania. That was not a hardship. I played in the orchestra with the great Jimmy DePriest. When my children played in the Penn orchestra, they arranged for me to sit in once or twice.
I played in the local community orchestras until that became more of a chore than a delight. And I played in the Narberth Community Theater orchestra every time Dr. Herman Giersch asked me.
But, infirmities of aging set in and tendenitis in my shoulders, arthritis in my fingers, and a broken wrist stopped me.
I thought I would feel sadness and a loss. But I don't. Quite the contrary. I felt sad every time I saw my cello case, holding my cello and bow, and knew I could no longer play it. Now, I'm hoping it goes to a good home and will be able to burst into beautiful music when played by someone else who would love it.