Keeping the Music Brain Alive

Music, baseball and art. These are our extracurricular activities in Oaxaca. Along with our big heavy bags (many filled with books), we brought two instruments (guitar and violin) with us…all the way from the Bay Area, to Colorado and then to Oaxaca City. We have a tip from our real estate agent (the guy who rented this house to us…he’s an American) on a classical/flamenco guitar teacher nearby, but I haven’t called him to set up an appointment.


Our slower life feels too rich, too precious to fill with activity. So, no lessons yet, but I have convinced my kids that they ought to practice three times a week in order to keep their musical brain synapses firing. No joke! I explained to them how the brain works and how practicing any activity keeps that part of the brain alive and that when we don’t use that part of the brain, it rewires/sort of shuts down the pathways, that in the case of acuity in playing their instruments, a bit of practice will result in them “not losing ground” musically.

I think my science is not too far off. Judy B. (my brilliant doctor friend) and Jennifer H. (my brilliant scientist cousin)…you or others can weigh in and tell me if I’m feeding my children a line of bull.

Anyway…it’s working…and isn’t that what really matters? My kids practice three times a week for ½ hour a pop…and without complaining about it. They’re determined to keep their musical brains going.

Speaking of music, my own brain has been re-firing old synapses. I have been playing violin for the past two weeks with the music band at our church in Oaxaca. I’ve played an average of 5 hours per week in practice and performance. That’s about 4.75 more hours a week than I normally play in Berkeley. The band is quite talented. Davíd…a brilliant musician, plays harmonica, flute and sax. Mario is the guitarist…accomplished vocalist as well and little Mario (pictured here) plays the drums. Derek B. would be excited to hear this youngster play. He’s 13-years-old. He keeps the beat well and many of us know how sad it can be in a Mexican church service when the hermanos can’t find a beat together and sing in time. It’s a little bit like torture. So, I’m thankful for little Mario.

And they love me. Especially, the older ladies. A few of them have come up to me after the service and tell me how much they love my violin playing. One woman is convinced that the violin is an instrument of prayer. She was determined that I agree with her, so I did, finishing with the all emcompassing...Gracias a Dios. This is a very gracious culture, so I'm trying not to let any of this go to my head, instead focusing on how much fun it is to play my instrument again.