Di Zhao Flutes

My earliest memories are of listening to my father play and teach flute, and I knew from very early on that there was nothing more I wanted to do than to be a flutist. I felt like it was my destiny. Even my given name, 笛，means flute. My father was a flutist in the army band, and travelled often for performances. A week before my 7th birthday, he left for a trip and promised to bring me back a toy. I told him I wanted a flute, and he said that he would try. When he came back, he did bring me a “flute”, a homely little thing, basically a wooden pipe with a few holes cut out. Still, I remember being devastated when it split in half after two days of blowing into it. When I told my father I wanted a real flute like his, he just sighed. When I was older, he said, and the family could afford it. I understand it now of course; we were a dirt poor family with four children, struggling in the midst of the Chinese Cultural Revolution. Nevertheless, I remember promising myself that my children would be able to play music as they wished. Despite the inauspicious start, I did fulfill my dream of becoming a flutist. I was part of that first wave of college students accepted into the Wuhan Conservatory when it reopened, and after I graduated, I became the principal flutist of the National Ensemble Orchestra of China.