A Seven-dollar Dream

降龙十巴掌 · 发表于 2014-2-10 16:09

A Seven-dollar Dream

"Wanted: Violin.  Can't pay much.  Call…."

Why did I notice that?  I wondered, since I rarely look at the classified ads.

I laid the paper on my lap and closed my eyes, remembering what had happened many years before, when my family struggled to make a living on our farm.

I, too, had wanted a violin, but we didn't have the money...

When my older twin sisters began showing an interest in music, Harriet Anne learned to play Grandma's upright piano, while Suzanne turned to Daddy's violin.  Simple tunes soon became lovely melodies as the twins played more and more.  Caught up in the rhythm of the music, my baby brother danced around while Daddy hummed and Mother whistled.  I just listened.

When my arms grew long enough, I tried to play Suzanne's violin.  I loved the mellow sound of the firm bow drawn across the strings.  Oh, how I wanted one!  But I knew it was out of the question.

One evening as the twins played in the school orchestra, I closed my eyes tight to capture the picture firmly in my mind.  Someday, I'll sit up there, I vowed silently.

It was not a good year.  At harvest the crops did not bring as much as we had hoped.  Yet even though times were hard, I couldn't wait any longer to ask, "Daddy, may I have a violin of my own?"

"Can't you use Suzanne's?"

"I'd like to be in the orchestra, too, and we can't both use the same violin at the same time."

Daddy's face looked sad.  That night, and many following nights, I heard him remind God in our family devotions, "...and Lord, Mary Lou wants her own violin."

One evening we all sat around the table.  The twins and I studied.  Mother sewed, and Daddy wrote a letter to his friend, George Finkle, in Columbus, Ohio.  Mr. Finkle, Daddy said, was a fine violinist.

As he wrote, Daddy read parts of his letter out loud to Mother.  Weeks later I discovered he'd written one line he didn't read aloud: "Would you watch for a violin for my third daughter?  I can't pay much, but she enjoys music, and we'd like her to have her own instrument."

When Daddy received a letter from Columbus a few weeks later, he announced, "We'll be driving to Columbus to spend the night with Aunt Alice as soon as I can find someone to care for the livestock."

At last the day arrived, and we drove to Aunt Alice's.  After we arrived, I listened while Daddy made a phone call.  He hung up and asked, "Mary Lou, do you want to go with me to visit Mr. Finkle?"

"Sure," I answered.

He drove into a residential area and stopped in the driveway of a fine, old house.  We walked up the steps and rang the door chime.  A tall man, older than Daddy, opened the door.  "Come in!" He and Daddy heartily shook hands, both talking at once.

"Mary Lou, I've been hearing things about you.  Your daddy has arranged a big surprise for you!" Mr. Finkle ushered us into the parlor.  He picked up a case, opened it, lifted out a violin and started to play.  The melody surged and spoke like waterfalls.  Oh, to play like him, I thought.

Finishing the number, he turned to Daddy.  "Carl, I found it in a pawnshop for seven dollars.  It's a good violin.  Mary Lou should be able to make beautiful music with it."  Then he handed the violin to me.

I noticed the tears in Daddy's eyes as I finally comprehended.  It was mine!  I stroked the violin gently.  The wood was a golden brown that seemed to warm in the light.  "It's beautiful," I said, barely breathing.

When we arrived back at Aunt Alice's, all eyes turned as we entered.  I saw Daddy wink at Mother, and then I realized everyone had known but me.  I knew Daddy's prayer, and mine, had been answered.

The day I carried my violin to school for my first lesson, no one could imagine the bursting feeling in my heart.  Over the months I practiced daily, feeling the warm wood fit under my chin like an extension of myself.

When I was ready to join the school orchestra, I trembled with excitement.  I sat in the third row of violins and wore my white orchestra jacket like a royal robe.

My heart beat wildly at my first public performance, a school operetta.  The auditorium filled to capacity and the audience buzzed while we softly tuned our instruments.  Then the spotlight centered on us, and a hush fell as we started to play.  I felt sure everyone in the audience was watching me.  Daddy and Mother smiled proudly at their little girl who held her cherished violin for the whole world to admire.

The years seemed to run more swiftly then.  And by the time my sisters graduated, I found myself in the first violin chair.

Two years later, I graduated.  I packed my cherished violin in its case and stepped into the grown-up world.  Nurse's training, marriage, working in the hospital, rearing four daughters filled my years.

More years passed.  My violin made every move with us, and I carefully stored it away when we unpacked—briefly remembering how much I still loved it and promising myself to play it soon.

None of my children cared about the violin.  Later, one by one, they married and left home.

Now here I was with the newspaper want ads.  I forced my thoughts to the present and read again the ad that had transported me back to childhood memories.  Laying aside the paper, I murmured, "I must find my violin."

I discovered the case deep in the recesses of my closet.  Opening the lid, I lifted the violin from where it nestled on the rose-velvet lining.  My fingers caressed its golden wood.  I tuned the strings, miraculously still intact, tightened the bow, and put rosin on the dry horsehair.

And then my violin began to sing again those favorite tunes that had never left my memories.  How long I played I'll never know.  I thought of Daddy, who did all he could to fill my needs and desires when I was a little girl.  I wondered if I had ever thanked him.

At last I laid the violin back in its case.  I picked up the newspaper, walked to the phone and dialed the number.

Later in the day, an old car stopped in my driveway.  A man in his 30s knocked on the door.  "I've been praying someone would answer my ad.  My daughter wants a violin so badly," he said, examining my instrument.  "How much are you asking?"

Any music store, I knew, would offer me a nice sum.  But now I heard my voice answer, "Seven dollars."

"Are you sure?" he asked, reminding me so much of Daddy.

"Seven dollars," I repeated, and then added, "I hope your little girl will enjoy it as much as I did."

I closed the door behind him.  Peeking out between the drapes, I saw his wife and children waiting in the car.  A door suddenly opened and a young girl ran to him as he held out the violin case to her.

She hugged it against her, then dropped to her knees and snapped open the case.  She touched the violin lightly as it caught glow of the late-afternoon sun, then turned and threw her arms around her smiling father.

Adapted from Reader's Digest, July 1990.

健康营养站 · 发表于 2014-2-11 11:12

青蛇2014 · 发表于 2014-2-11 11:51

很感人，我都看哭了。。。。。

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A Seven-dollar Dream

鲜花鸡蛋