Six years ago at the age of 35,I suddenly decided I wanted to learn the cello（大提琴）.Straight away I rented an instrument and appeared before Wendell Margrave,professor of musical instruction.

    "You can be as good as you want to be,"Margrave said rather mysteriously.On a piece of paper he drew the notes E and F.He showed me where to put my fingers on the neck of the cello and how to draw the bow.Then he entered my name in his book: 10 am,Tuesday.Tuesday followed Tuesday,and soon it was spring.

     Thus began my voyage out of ignorance and into the dream.E-F,E-F,we played together—and moved on to G.It was a happy time.I was again becoming something new,and no longer trapped as the same person.Surely the most terrible recognition of middle life is that we are past changing.We do what we can already do.The cello was something I couldn't do.Yet each Tuesday this became less and less true.Riding home on the bus one snowy night and learning the score of Mozart's C-Major Quintet(莫扎特的C大调五重奏),I felt the page burst into music in my hands.I could by then more or less read a score,and was humming（哼唱）the cello line,when suddenly all five parts came together harmonically（和谐地） in my head.The fellow sitting opposite stared.I met his glance with tears,actually hearing the music in my head for the first time.Could he hear it too, perhaps?No,he got off at the next stop.

    As the years slipped by,my daughter grew up,playing the piano well.My goal was that she and I would one day perform together.I also wanted to perform in public with and for my peers,and to be secretly envied.I continued to play,to perform,but it is not the same. Before, when I heard a cello,it was all beauty and light.Now,as the TV camera gets close to Rostropovich's face,I recognize that his smile shows his incredible determination.Even for him,the cello is a difficult instrument that doesn't respect your ambitions.I picked up my cello and practiced.As good as I wanted to be,I am as good as I'm going to get.It is good enough.