Poems and Thoughts    by Frank Maurer

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I. Music To My Ears. The Early Days. Since I was tiny, I always had music in my life. My mother played the old upright piano During the day at times and later, to put us to sleep. At five, I started piano lessons with a neighbor teacher. I advanced some, even recording a duet, "The Happy Farmer" with my mother. Mrs. Winkler, married to a Swede who sold nicknack stuff, As near as I remember, from his car, was my teacher. She was stiff and formal And I soon decided at six or seven years to stop. My mother told me, Winkler had said I would never play music again! In the meantime, I discovered at six A big, deep cabinet my father had hand constructed for my mother, In which were classical 78 record albums-- Tchaikovsky, Mozart, Beethoven, and perhaps Wagner; Large albums of three to five 78 records--six to ten sides with complete works. I played them all over and over again. Once, when I was deep in thought, musically, My mother came by and said, "Why don't you go out and play?" Another time she came by and asked, "What are you thinking?" I seriously answered her, "I am contemplating death." (I had raised and butchered rabbits from the age of six, So I knew the 'birds and bees' of rabbits (and humans!) And how to ready a rabbit for the pot in 20 minutes-- I got faster 'as I aged'!) At ten years old, I attended dance school with Mrs. Cohn. I always sat near the trio of men who talked with me--piano, sax, and drums. In sixth grade at Hyde Elementary School, They needed an upright double bassist. I had been given a 'Seashore Test' to check musical prowess and ability-- I may remember it was administered to my whole class. Well, the music teacher approached me to join the orchestra and play bass. We had an hour and a half lunch hour between sessions. Instead of going home for lunch, I practiced by myself And after one half hour, I walked home, two blocks away, Lunched and walked back to school. This continued in Junior High School, when I finally got my own instrument. It was a big, old, very dark heavy bass, Which had been, not delicately, reconstructed. In High School, I went to a private music school for lessons-- My mother drove me and the bass, four miles to the school each week. My teacher was Mr. Spinney, an older, dark haired, Very soft spoken man, whom I respected very much And from whom I learned techniques and fingering. (He helped prepare me for the school's annual concert--Grieg's piano concerto.) After about three years he told me I was ready for a more advanced teacher. He suggested a bassist in the Boston Symphony! I was about to graduate and leave for Antioch College, Yellow Springs, Ohio, So I did not follow that advice--who knows what that might have led to! I left Newton, Massachusetts, and my first wonderful girlfriend, Seta DerHohanessian, an incredible flautist, whom I loved dearly. I will always remember my first date, when I drove my parents' car to Seta's home. We, with others, played the Bach Flute Concerto in B flat. I was in heaven, with her and being allowed to drive alone-- My wilder, younger brother, John, was not allowed to drive until after 16! (Seta and I lost track until 30 years later, when we met during my 50th HS Reunion. She was a year older, so I actually attended two Senior Proms!) One outstanding memory was when Donald March, HS orchestra director, Allowed me to conduct the orchestra for some piece, which I remember not; Yet another moment of being in musical heaven. I was indeed very content with those early musical years And , indeed, with almost every day of my youthful process, becoming an adult. Frank Maurer 6 November 2023 0030 Hours.