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A quote written in my journal on March 30 said
this: “Graham Greene felt life was lived in the first twenty years and the
remainder was just reflection.” It was written by the late neurosurgeon, P.
Kalanithi in an Arkansas Democrat-Gazette
article. He died at age 37.
That sentence was brought into play on May 5, 2015. I
wrote, “5.5.15” and thought:
When the date read “5.5.’55,” I would have been 19
and finishing my first year in college at what was then Arkansas State Teachers
College at Conway. The “reflections,” as Graham Greene put it, came upon me
fully these 60 years later.
I had been rushed by the Tri-Delts because (I’m
almost positive) older music majors were members—Joyce McClanahan for one-- and
I was a freshman music major with both an academic and music scholarship--$90
each. I refused, but it was an honor to be asked. I knew I couldn’t afford the
costs, nor did I deem myself sorority material. I joined the Independents.
My first roommate was Bobbie-something. If I see her
name somewhere/ sometime, I’ll remember it. Dorm was McAlister Hall, still
standing. Friends were Mary Ann Ritchey Smith (Benton, now of Kentucky), Glenda
Martin (deceased) of Concord, Mary Wanda Windham Root, now of Arkadelphia. We
are still friends, those of us still alive.
Classes: English. Mrs. Roberta Clay (deceased) was,
in my then-narrow view, a typical old-maid school marm. (She was probably
young. She loved Arthur and gave us a piece of frilly-rimmed pink
Fentonware as a wedding gift.) I remember having to write essays and must have
done well: I made all A’s.
Psychology: A real eye-opener, both in the subject
matter and as regards the professor, Dr. Gale. He was (as I remember) a tall,
pencil-thin man who, again from my small-world outlook, was the oddest man I’d
ever seen. Or heard. (Thus began my education.)
Piano. Having studied piano with Lorene Houston, and with
enough theory on the side (one-on-one) to count as a high school credit, I
thought I was good. I soon learned that “good” is relative and that I had much
more to learn. Chopin’s “Fantasie Impromptu” nearly killed me with its
difficulty. Dr. Milton Trusler, (again, one whom I considered old) a wiry
little man who looked like pictures I see now of T. S. Eliot, even offered a
room in their home if I needed it.
Theory. Sight-singing and ear-training was one of my
favorite courses. I can “see” the band guys in the class, tho’ I can’t name
them. I taught my school choirs sight-singing when region Festivals began that
practice, and we always made a First Division. Funny, I don’t remember who
taught the college course.
Music History. Dr. Carl Forsberg (deceased) must have
taught the class, as well as directed the Conway Little Symphony. It met on our
campus, and accompanying it must have been part of my scholarship. During one
rehearsal (hard job for me at that stage/age), I got lost and quit playing.
Ooh, did I get a chewing out--bad enough to cause tears. But it was a good
lesson. Later, working on my Masters, I took a private course in Composition
from him.
So, do I agree with Graham Greene’s purported statement?
No. There’s too much life to live beyond the first 20 years. Just ask anyone
who’s lived to be 80. Or 90.
3 comments:
I wonder why Greene felt so? Surely his own life was full years after 20, he did not write all his works at that age! I do think that after maybe 65 life becomes reflection although many still find challenges then too. For me, life seems more and more reflective, trying the find the answers to all those questions of earlier years! Nice blog post!
Gosh. I don't think I started living until 40.
Both of you and your comments are special to me. Thanks for taking the time and sharing your thoughts. xoxo
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