Bach Partita in E

Little Brian was not a shy child, having more energy than my guide's and mine combined. "Ooh, a violin, a violin!" He jumped up and down by the door, his hands stretching out with the intention of not only touching the instrument, but also grabbing it.

"You are not going to play today," the guide Charlotte, a music therapist in the hospital, said. "We are all going to sit down to listen." Brian did not protest. His widely-opened eyes showed that he was already mesmerized by the instrument he has never seen before.

"Let's see...what do you want to listen?" Charlotte asked. "Something fast or something slow?" "Fast!" the little guy responded excitedly, his eyes still glued to the violin. "Okay...something loud or something soft?" "LOUD!!"

I groaned a little inside. Somewhat exhausted from a full work day, I was not prepared to play something "fast" and "loud", especially in a hospital setting. The ambiance simply did not help inspire what was necessary. But there was no time for excuses--the active little boy giggled and squirmed around on his mother's lap, his hands clasped together in expectation. "How about something fast and loud, then something slow?" My little music patron demanded.

I began playing the first movement of Bach's partita in E major. The continual stream of sixteenth notes delighted my young audience tremendously. "Okay, now something slow!" he cried. I put on the brake and the tempo dropped by half. His mouth dropped open as he turned around to look at his mother. She was as excited as he was. "Slow enough for ya? Ready to pick it up?" Charlotte asked him. "Okay, fast!" I stepped on the accelerator and the arms are back on speed.

We laughed so much during our brief five-minute visit. I only played about 20 measures, not even finishing on the tonic (the "home" chord on a scale). At some point I thought about what a professional classical musician would think if he or she heard my performance. I also wondered what Bach would say if he were there (I could already see his expression as I remembered from his portrait hanging in my childhood home: meticulous and stern). But none of that mattered in that gloomy hospital room. Little Brian saw the violin for the first time in his life, and he was incredibly proud of his "conducting." Most importantly, he laughed. So I guess if I did not do what a professional musician was supposed to do, I at least did what I set out to do in the first place when I decided to volunteer with Musicians On Call: to bring the healing power of music to patients, in one form or the other.