One of the many things on my "to do" list when we moved to Amsterdam was making music a more important part of my life. I wasn't entirely sure what I meant when I created that goal, but I had some vague idea that it would involve a combination of listening to and playing music. As soon as I arrived, I began a daily routine of running or walking with Casey in Vondel Park, listening to my iPod to help make the journey more interesting. The songs didn't just help to pass the time, however. As music often does, it helped connect me to friends and family. So when I heard Brick House, I was transported back to high school. And after listening to Kool and The Gang's Celebration I was instantly back at my sister's wedding in 1984, dancing and laughing with my brother and with her.

I realize after only a few months here that music serves an important purpose when you live in a foreign country: it gives you the chance to understand the "language". When I sit in an audience in Amsterdam, I don't need to understand Dutch. Instead, I can-even if it's only for a short time-feel like I understand. And, of course, there is a lot of research out there that says that music helps exercise your brain, always a good thing when you have crossed that eventful mid-century mark in life. According to this Ted-Ed talk made for the classroom, playing music is "the brain's equivalent of a full-body workout." Watch it and it will make you want to grab an instrument and play! Thanks, Laura Farina for posting this on FB: http://www.npr.org/blogs/deceptivecadence/2014/11/20/365461587/musicians-brains-really-do-work-differently-in-a-good-way?

I also chose to write about music this week because it was such an important part of my dad's life. He would be proud to know that I am trying to make it a part of my life here. So, Dad, this one is for you.

One of the things my dad did when he and my mom were on one of their many travel adventures was seek out a music store. Sometimes, he did that so he could play the cello (his one true love...after my mom, that is!). I went in search of a music store the other day, and found two within a 5 minute stroll. I bought some rosin for my violin bow and chatted with the young woman who works in the store. She told me that musicians are paid by "The State" in The Netherlands. Until recently, they were able to make a good living. Over the last few years, there have been cutbacks in funding, she said, and many musicians she knows are not able to support themselves.

Here are the cellos lined up in this music store, like guests at a cocktail party, just waiting to greet me. My dad would have had a good time at this party.

Here's another store with a really wide selection of sheet music. I was so tempted to buy that cut-out orchestra in the window, but this year at least, I have no class to pretend I bought it for.

There are many opportunities here for me to keep my vow to listen to music, both indoors and out. Thanks to a tip from an insider, I found out early in our life here that the fabulous home of the Netherlands orchestra hosts free weekly lunchtime concerts. I have been to three already! The concert hall, Het Concertgebouw, is a 5 minute bike ride/less than a 10 minute walk away, so now I really have no excuse. Imagine living that close to Carnegie Hall/Lincoln Center! Peter and I are determined to become regular concert goers here. There are not just classical, but also many jazz concerts at Het Concertgebouw. Peter is in heaven!

This week's concert featured an accordion player named (I kid you not) Vincent van Amsterdam. I almost didn't go, imagining either Lawrence Welk-style schmaltz, or a straggly looking man with a monkey. I was surprised to find a black-clad hipst… — This week's concert featured an accordion player named (I kid you not) Vincent van Amsterdam. I almost didn't go, imagining either Lawrence Welk-style schmaltz, or a straggly looking man with a monkey. I was surprised to find a black-clad hipster who would not have been out of place in Brooklyn. He played both classical music (Bach and Tchaikovsky) and two modern pieces with intense emotion and musicality. It was an amazing performance, maybe especially because it was so unexpected.

While it is not really on the subject of music, I need to take a brief detour here to talk about Dutch lines. The concept of a line is just not what we are used to in the U.S. Rather, it's a meandering and fluid concept. As you can imagine, the line is long at a free concert in the heart of the city. On my first outing, I dutifully lined up like a good American, more than 30 minutes before the start of the concert. As the doors opened and the line approached the concert hall, streams of others joined the tidy line, and by the time I reached the building, I saw a closed door and a sign that told me there was no more room.

The next week, I came ready for battle. I arrived an hour early, with a good book, and stood my ground. I noticed others sitting on benches along the wall, and sure enough, when the time came to enter the concert hall, they just barged into the front of the line.

In full disclosure, this photo is from another free concert at the Dutch National Opera and Ballet. The set up is the same, however. Those ladies taking a load off on the seats will get up and "cut" to the front of the line when the time c… — In full disclosure, this photo is from another free concert at the Dutch National Opera and Ballet. The set up is the same, however. Those ladies taking a load off on the seats will get up and "cut" to the front of the line when the time comes.

You can see that even the actual line is not really a line in the way a 4th grade teacher would define a line.

This week, I inadvertently lined up Dutch style. When I arrived at Het Concertgebouw on Wednesday, the inside lining up area was already packed. A police officer motioned me and some others to another door. The long line of earlier arrivers stared at the small group of us standing adjacent to the front of the line. Before I knew it, the doors of the concert hall opened, and the group of us streamed into the front of the line. A voice inside my head screamed, "You cut!" with the venom of a wronged fourth grader. But when in Rome.... So I tried not to make eye contact and proceeded into the concert, finding a seat in the front row and feeling just a tad guilty.

In addition to the concerts, I have enjoyed the outdoor informal music. Street musicians pop up in the park, near the canals, and most often, in the covered bike and walking path that runs under the Rijksmuseum, the grand art museum that houses many Rembrandts, Vermeers, and other masters. The acoustics are wonderful and the tourists plentiful, so it makes for a perfect storm for musicians.

I wish I could post the video I took of this 6 year old who drew in a huge crowd. She played a few solos, and then was joined by her trombonist. He must have known what actors mean when they say that kids and dogs steal any scenes they perform … — I wish I could post the video I took of this 6 year old who drew in a huge crowd. She played a few solos, and then was joined by her trombonist. He must have known what actors mean when they say that kids and dogs steal any scenes they perform with grownups. She was outstanding! The little furrow between her eyebrows during difficult passages was the only signal that the music was at all challenging for her.

Inspired by this young talent, I finally trudged downstairs in our apartment and brought up my violin from the basement. If you recall from an earlier blog post, I drew inspiration from a 5 year old bike rider ("If he can do it, I can do it."). Similarly, if this little girl can play the violin like a professional, what is my excuse? Let's just say playing the violin is decidedly not like riding a bike. Getting back into playing an instrument that you were never very good at playing in the first place is hard. Really hard. But I will keep plugging away.

To quote a wise man (my father), "If you can play music, you can always meet people. You won't be able to play lacrosse for the rest of your life." This life lesson was imparted to me when I was 17, and pushing to give up the violin so I would have more time for my beloved sports and friends. Little did I know that all these years later, my dad's advice would ring so true. Once I have scraped enough of the rust away from my skills, maybe I can find an amateur chamber music group or orchestra to join. It won't matter that I don't speak much Dutch, because we will be communicating through the language of music.

Here is proof that I am actually playing my violin.

In loving memory of my dad, Sherwood Vine, (February 27, 1921-December 5, 2009): a professional amateur musician, and a joyful lover of all types of music. This photo was taken in 1965. He took up the cello at age 40, after playing the pia… — In loving memory of my dad, Sherwood Vine, (February 27, 1921-December 5, 2009): a professional amateur musician, and a joyful lover of all types of music. This photo was taken in 1965. He took up the cello at age 40, after playing the piano since he was a child. If he can do it, I can do it, right? A true inspiration to all of us to keep learning new things.

My dad, circa 1979. I know you would be living the good life here, vicariously, through my blog, Dad. When I want to think about you, I listen to the following song. Then you are here in Amsterdam with us. — My dad, circa 1979. I know you would be living the good life here, vicariously, through my blog, Dad. When I want to think about you, I listen to the following song. Then you are here in Amsterdam with us.