Page 59 of Theo of Golden

A simple question was the pull that parted the curtains. “You a student?”

“Yep.”

“Well, then let me guess. Either you’re in the music school or you’re studying to be an astronaut, and that’s your spaceship on your back.”

Simone smiled broadly, dimples on full display. He was used to jokes about the cello.

In short order, Tony and Simone’s acquaintance grew into a friendship of sorts, nourished by frequent repartee and the occasional long conversation.

Tony was pleased that the young student was able to survive, maybe even enjoy, his humor. It was one of the things Simone mentioned most often in emails to his family.

Mom and Dad, I met a local guy who owns a bookstore near my apartment. His name is Tony. He’s gruff but friendly, like Uncle Spoe. He likes to tease me about being a classical musician. He asked me this morning if a cello is like a big ukulele. He called it a nuclear uke and then a nuke uke and then a uke on Viagra.

His store is called the Verbivore. When I asked him where the name came from, he recited a poem he’d written: “Herbivores eat Brussels sprouts, carnivores eat birds, cashivores eat dollar bills, and verbivores eat words.”

He likes to joke and play dumb, but I think he’s actually pretty bright.

Theo and Simone finally made an appointment to meet at the Chalice and talk music. It was a mid-afternoon, when the shop was quiet. After they each explained how they ended up in Golden, Theo asked Simone to tell him about his cello.

Simone was as happy to answer as Mr. Ponder had been when asked about the history of Ponder House.

“When I first started playing cello in high school, my music teacher found one that I was able to borrow for band class. I played it for three years, all through school. The neck was bent a little bit, so it was hard to keep in tune, and there was a crack along one of the seams at the top and side, but I didn’t mind. I was still able to learn scales and fingering and basic technique on it.

“My parents couldn’t afford to buy one for me, so I worked and saved some money to buy one myself. When I graduated from high school, I found one for twelve hundred dollars. That one had some flaws, too, but it was a definite improvement. When I auditioned at university for the orchestra, the professors all suggested I get a better instrument. I wanted to, but I just couldn’t afford it.

“So, I kept using the one I had. When I had recitals or concerts, my professor would let me practice and perform with one of hers. I kept saving my money, but I knew it would be a while before I could buy a really good one. They’re pretty expensive, you know.”

Theo nodded. He knew very well.

“In my senior year at university, my grandmother died. My mother’s mother. She lived with us when I was growing up. I was really close to her. Most people thought I was crazy to study cello, but not her. She loved to hear me play, even when I was just beginning. Her ears were very kind.

“When she died, she left me some money. I didn’t think she had a thing in the world, but she had saved some money somehow. She left it all to me with a note that said ‘Buy a cello, and play for the angels.’ It was almost fourteen thousand dollars. I couldn’t believe it. I took the little bit I’d saved and put it all together and started looking for the cello of my dreams.

“It took a year, but I finally found it. Or it found me. My professor told me about it. There was a man who got Parkinson’s and couldn’t play it anymore, so he asked my professor if she knew anybody who would appreciate and take good care of it. Lucky me. The man could have charged me three times what I paid for it. So, Mr. Theo, I play an 1859 Kriner, from Munich. To me, it is a masterpiece.”

“It is a masterpiece,” Theo agreed. “So, let me guess. The top is made of spruce, and the sides, back, and neck are made of maple. The headstock is scrolled, similar to a Stradivarius, and is also made of maple. At low C, it makes the floor shiver.”

Simone grinned proudly. “All true. I’m impressed. How do you know so much about cellos? Do you play?”

“Ahh, I wish I could, but I leave that to artists like you. I have no talent for music, except to listen. But what one loves, one learns about. I am not sure why I love the cello so much, but I do. I once heard Casals play in Paris. I think I was never the same after that.”

“Really, you heard Casals? The Pablo Casals?

Theo nodded. “It was remarkable. Indescribable.”

“I first heard his recordings of the Bach Suite when I was in high school,” Simone said. “That’s what made me want to learn cello.”

Theo smiled. “And your bow? What type of bow do you use?”

“Well, I hope someday to own an Emil Werner, but for now I play with a DZ Strand, number 805. Ebony frog. Quad-A Mongolian horsehair. Twenty-eight point three inches long. Seventy-eight grams. Pirastro, medium rosin.”

Theo beamed. “Excellent! If I’m not mistaken, that one is made of Brazilwood, yes?”

Simone nodded. “Correct.”

Theo said, “Which means that since it comes from Brazil, it sings in Portuguese.”

It took a moment for Simone to understand Theo’s humor.