| Dawn Starks of Starks Financial |
This is a love story. Of sorts. Years ago, I had a long, deeply satisfying relationship that was sometimes very challenging, and that lasted about ten years. It started when I was 12, and ended in a somewhat tragic way when I was 22. You see, I wasn’t always a financial planner. Prior to that, I was a musician, and music was my life.
Dawn Starks
When the wheel weeks were completed, and we made our selection, I had a new challenge. There were dozens of students that wanted to play flute in the band, not just me. The band director stated that any students that already had an instrument would be given priority. So I hatched a plan.
My parents were and are wonderful parents. They really denied my sister and me nothing growing up, but we were not spoiled kids. We were always mature for our ages, and we were not troublemakers. So I hurried home from school that fateful Friday, and told my parents, BEGGED my parents to take me directly to the music store to get a flute. Since I had already established my plan to be a flutist, my dad had arranged with his brother to send me a student flute that he no longer needed. But I couldn’t wait for that, I needed a flute, and I needed it now. It was absolutely mandatory that I show up on Monday bearing my instrument, or I would miss my chance. So we went out and rented a beautiful, brand new flute, which I loved instantly.
The plan worked, and I was selected to be one of the flutists in the band. I then applied myself for several years, building my skills and honing my craft. I enjoyed the challenge of learning something new, and I enjoyed the challenge of competing. A lot. I quickly moved up to the front of the pack, so to speak, and wouldn’t be satisfied until I was First Chair Flute.
In the ninth grade, my family moved to Northern Virginia, where there were plentiful opportunities to be involved in music. I was involved in two youth symphonies, one in Virginia and one in D.C. So two nights a week as a high schooler, I was driving myself around the D.C. beltway to get to practice. This is not something I would want to do now – ah, the innocence of youth! I was Principal Flute in both orchestras, as well as in the high school band. I worked hard, with rehearsals and practice taking up many hours per week. I also taught lessons to younger students through the local music store.
One of the memories of those high school years that stuck with me was my flute teacher, Janet, who was a wonderful teacher, role model, and cheerleader. As a perfectionist introvert, I was a terrific technician on my instrument, but I struggled with the emotive part of performing. Stage fright played a role, and it was just not my comfort zone. She used to tell me that what I needed to do, what I REALLY needed to do, was go home to my bedroom, lock the door, put on the Pointer Sisters’ “I’m So Excited” and dance naked in front of a mirror. Of course I did not take her advice; frankly, I thought she was nuts. However, I think back on this and realize how right she was.
It was inevitable that I would choose to go to college and major in music. I won a scholarship to study music at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill with a world-renowned flute professor. Those were exciting years for me. I decided I had to do something about the stage fright that was crippling me in competition or solo performances. No, I didn’t dance naked. Instead, I sought out the help of a counselor at school that taught me self-hypnosis techniques to conquer the fear. It worked, and that is a skill that has served me well all through my life since.
The next thing that marked those years for me was the fact that I worked like a dog. I had three jobs – I taught lessons, worked in the music library, and I was one of the two recording technicians, which meant that I had to attend every single performance and student recital and record it. I had no time for typical college life; I got up early in the morning, left the dorm/apartment, and didn’t return until late in the evening. Working, classes, rehearsals, and, of course, hours of practice each day consumed my life. But this was my love.
As my freshman year was wrapping up, my flute professor dropped a bomb – he had been awarded a Fulbright grant to teach the following year in Munich, Germany. This was devastating news. I was an out-of-state student, so tuition was high, I worked to pay for room and board to help my parents, and the thought of doing all that while being stuck with a substitute teacher for the next year about killed me. When I repeated this news back at the dorm, my dear, innocent roommate at the time said, “Well why don’t you go to Germany to study with him?” Boom. A great idea! A solution to my problem!
How that worked out is a story for another day, but my professor was game, my parents were game, I worked out a housing arrangement with a job as an au pair with a family in Munich, and I was off.
So my love of music was fueled again with this overseas adventure. I got a fantastic education that did not involve book learning. This was life learning at its finest. After returning to the states, I resumed my study at UNC-CH, after effectively having taken a year off of school. The final three years at college were as busy or busier than the first year, and to this day, I have no idea how I managed it. I have concluded that we humans can just do things as 20-year olds that we simply cannot do as 40-year olds. My senior year I lived on five hours of sleep per night, given the schedule I had. That is nuts.
I was accepted to attend graduate school in flute performance in Boston, another dream come true. I was excited about that, but at the same time apprehensive. Graduate school was to be up to me expense-wise, and the probability of coming out of graduate school with a well-paying job as an orchestral flutist was low. I decided to take a year off, defer my admission, and work to save up money.
As that working year was coming to a close, I geared up for the impending change back into graduate school life. I had loved the work I had done, being a “Girl Friday” for a small woman-owned business. I did a bit of everything – marketing, finance, sales, you name it, and I was good at it. My apprehension about my career choice was still high; I was filled with doubt and uncertainty.
One morning, I woke up to what I now recognize was a cosmic brick to the head wake up call. While brushing my teeth, I was having a hard time spitting out the toothpaste. What followed was a several-week ordeal of doctors, therapies, and questions, for I had developed Bell’s Palsy, and my face was paralyzed on one side. Playing the flute was impossible. I was devastated. The doctors assured me that 80% of the people that develop this disease recover completely. But their concern was that most people use their mouths to eat and talk; for someone like me that used all the very fine muscles around the mouth in a specialized way … recovery was a total wild card.
But this was the answer from the Universe that I was looking for. I suppose I would have preferred a subtler message, but this is what I got. During those uncertain weeks, I decided I needed a new plan, because I guess even back then, that is what I was and am – a planner. I’m not one to sit back and wait. I researched and figured out that I could still attend graduate school, but for business instead. All I had to do was take the GMAT and apply. I was late to that party, but my scores and grades were excellent, so both Appalachian State and Western Carolina University accepted me. I was offered a nice graduate assistantship at WCU, so I joined the MBA program there that fall.
As it happened, as soon as I determined I could switch tracks and started making plans, the Bell’s Palsy disappeared. I had a “normal” person’s recovery – no lingering symptoms, but the weakness while playing the flute was huge. It would take me many months, if not years, to regain the level of proficiency I had before the illness. But I had already decided to set the flute aside and pursue a business degree, because it felt like the right thing to do. Discovering the weakness after recovery felt like final confirmation of a correct decision.
I often get asked why I never played again, or why I don’t just pick it up again “for fun.” The answer is because that would not be fun for me. It is a painful thing, the grief I have over losing my music. I was never a natural talent. Some folks can pick up instruments and master them easily. Not so for me – I worked really hard and practiced a ton to get good at my art. So to go forward and play less skillfully would not be enjoyable at all; it would be a constant bitter reminder of the talent I used to have.
So instead my approach was to put that love affair behind me and move on. Still today, I have mini-episodes of deep grief over the loss of my music. I can’t really even listen to orchestral music on any regular basis – it stirs up too much for me. A few times I’ve flirted with giving music a place in my life again, but my gut saved me, and I reconsidered. Perhaps in retirement from this career I might reunite with my old love. Anything is possible.
Dawn Starks is President of Starks Financial Group, a local independent firm, with advisors that offer financial planning and investment management. She is Branch Manager, Raymond James Financial Services, Inc. The above is the opinion of Dawn Starks and not necessarily the opinion of Raymond James.
Starks Financial Group
440 Montford Avenue
Asheville, NC 28801
828-285-8777
Securities offered through Raymond James Financial Services, Inc. Member FINRA/SIPC.
