From the day I played a solo on my clarinet (Amazing Grace) in 5th grade, it seemed my fate was decided. I was instructed that God had given me a gift and it was my obligation to perfect it. When one’s parents make decisions for them from a young age, it is difficult, if not impossible, for a child to realize he or she actually has free will. That was the case for me so I never missed a day of practice – the clarinet even occupied my sleep in the form of a recurring dream in which I was alone in a pure white room playing as if my life depended upon it. During my practice sessions I would strive to mimic the beautiful sounds which inhabited my lonely dream. It is easy to interpret the ending of this frequent dream – my mouth would suddenly be filled with something akin to chewing gum which filled my mouth and expanded to the rest of the room – each time I would awake in fear from the feeling of suffocation.
I began high school in 9th grade and within the first month realized there was so much more I wanted to do – I especially wanted to focus on literature and writing. I recall crying with frustration as I begged my mother to let me quit the clarinet so I could have time to pursue my interests. My desires were shot down as I was told I needed to continue the path I was on because it had been chosen for me by God. I had no right to be so selfish as to squander what had been granted to me. It would take until I was 33 years old for me to understand that I did have a right to make the choice not to perform.
Once I foreclosed on my mother’s edict, throughout high school I learned to feel proud of my achievements in music and began to identify my self-worth with applause and accolades – especially when I was one of 2 musicians to represent New York State in Chicago with the National Honors Band conducted by the renowned William Revelli (https://heritage.umich.edu/stories/revelli-the-long-note).
As it came time to apply to college I was recruited by The College of Saint Rose in Albany, NY, where I could major in Music Education while also focusing on performance. My parents felt I should pursue a strictly performance career and encouraged me to apply to the Boston Conservatory. I needed to send in a tape as a screening tool and have clear memories of recording it. There are very few memories I can recall with accuracy from my early years, but the following stands out. Whatever the motivation, I purposely recorded mistakes to ensure I would not be accepted. Freud would have a field day with that behavior, but the simple reason is that I felt safe going to St. Rose – I already knew I was wanted there. Also, there was a family connection since my mother was a graduate.
I did all in my power to continually improve as a clarinetist after college including frequent train trips from Albany to NYC for intense study with Kalmen Opperman (https://www.nytimes.com/2010/06/23/arts/music/23opperman.html), and Charles Neidich (https://www.charlesneidich.net). An average day of practice was 4 to 5 hours and I actively performed in solo recitals and chamber groups. Shortly before I ended my career, I had achieved the role of 1st Clarinet in the Berkshire Symphony and performed with the Group for 20th Century Music at Williams College. I was also honored to instruct clarinetists majoring in music at The College of Saint Rose, Skidmore College, and Williams College.
The following Image is a review from The William’s Record in March of 1992 of one of my very last performances.
My career as a music educator, performer, and clarinet instructor demanded my focus and energy seven days a week from morning until night. Considering that none of what I was doing stemmed from a personal desire or passion, I am thankful to have awakened to the reality that I could alter my path in life while I was young enough to make a change. I recall a day practicing my clarinet during my 33rd year when a beautiful buck walked into my view out the living room window. It was a mystical vision that remains clear in my mind to this day as it was eerily foggy outside. I set my instrument down and stared at the majesty of nature while ruminating on how much I truly hated what I was doing.
In that profound moment, I knew that my life had to change. As far as I knew, I was only going to get one chance at time on the Planet Earth. Were I to remain on my current trajectory, I would have spent the gift of life foreclosed on something which was only serving to leave me feeling empty and sad. The only thing I missed once I made the choice to change careers and stop performing was the applause – quite a shallow reason to continue something which did not have my heart. It is difficult to even try to put into words the freedom which ensued in my being once I closed the case for the last time.
When it was clear that I would never play again, I sold my clarinet to one of my former students from The College of Saint Rose. Monica Ruddy DuQuette had gone on to a fulfilling career as a music educator and performer and I was happy to know that the instrument which had been literally an extension of me for all my years as a performer would be truly loved. I am thrilled to share that her daughter, Cece Duquette, has been playing that very same instrument since she was in 9th grade. Even more exciting to me is that Cece is currently attending the University of South Florida in Tampa majoring in Music Education and minoring in Psychology. In addition, she attended NYU’s Broadway Winds Camp which has fueled a desire to play on Broadway someday. My former instrument is being played with the love it deserves.
I’ll end with a link to one of my solo performances, “A Set for Clarinet” by Donald Martino. This is actually the only recording I have because any tapes I had I sent to my sister Lorraine Griesemer Petty for safekeeping years ago. She was so sad when I stopped playing that I wanted her to have them.