50th high school reunion
DUET FOR ONE
I finished high school in early 1975. Then I blinked, and it was time for my 50th reunion. I’m headed to Philadelphia this weekend—a prelude of sorts, to my DUET FOR ONE tour.
I did not go to my high school prom (I’m not sure there was one), and I did not wear a cap and gown for graduation. I finished high school in January of senior year. We had that option, if we did the extra course work.
For the following months, I practiced viola for three or four hours each morning, then took the bus to work.
I had a job at the library of the American Philosophical Society, the first of several library jobs I would have over the coming years. The APS was Ben Franklin’s response to Britain’s Royal Society, an organization of scientists and literati. Many of Franklin’s papers are housed there.
The library was a magical place, right next to Independence Hall.
On the Septa 44 bus downtown, I’d scarf a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and, if memory serves, attempt to plow through the Russian classics. The peanut butter and jelly went down more easily than the Russians.
My job at the library was memorable, if menial. I worked in the windowless sub basement where temperature and moisture were carefully controlled to protect the collection. I was to rub a special lubricant on the covers of ancient books to keep their bindings supple. I could thumb through the original of Diderot’s Encyclopedia and other weighty tomes. I wasn’t supposed to get any grease on the yellowing pages. I’m sure I did, and more than once.
Another responsibility was removing original letters from acidic paper files and placing them into Mylar sleeves to prevent deterioration. I recall going through a stack of William Temple Franklin’s letters. William was the more famous Franklin’s errant grandson, who served as Franklin’s secretary in France. I stumbled across a trove from one of Temple’s mistresses. Grateful for my high school French, I read the letters with mounting concern. The poor woman was desperate and abandoned. She must have been pregnant. A lock of her hair fell out of one of the letters, and scared the sh-t out of me.
My mother was unmoved by my industry. She thought I’d made a mistake. She wanted me back in high school, where I could finish my year of English and take a number of other things she considered necessary. “Don’t you want to take Mr. …’s class?” she asked in late February or early March, as I unpacked my viola to begin practicing.
I wondered how she would feel if I were a dope fiend or, heaven forfend, a couch potato spending mornings watching TV? I could not have graduated without her signing off on dozens of forms, so why was she objecting now?
I never did understand what I was doing wrong.
As I head to Philly this weekend, I’m feeling wistful. I treasured that semester after high school, loved the solitude of my practice, the peacefulness of the APS library, rehearsals for the orchestras in which I played, and my lessons with Max Aronoff at the New School of Music just off Rittenhouse Square. For me, it was the calm before the storm that was college.
I hope to bring you into some of this musical world in DUET FOR ONE: the what’s- behind-the-music, the sound of Max’s viola—he’s “Isaac Koroff” in the book—the dual love stories set in the resonant streets of Philadelphia.
I’d be thrilled if you joined me on this journey.
Throw back to a couple of books signings for THREE MUSES—
Thank you and love,
Martha
P.S.
Please join me for Moral Monday at the Supreme Court with Reverend Barber May 5 at 11 AM—”Standing against a budget that destroys people.”
Here’s an article you might need from The Nation
Here’s May Day, Thursday evening at Freedom Plaza in DC:
P.P.S. ICYMI, here last week’s Substack/newsletter: “10 days until launch, and PW.”
Love hearing about your time in high school and after!