Walking into the small office of the musicologist, one would have seen the contrast between Dr. Shindle’s desk, with documents piled high, and Dr. Terry Miller’s desk, organized, with everything in plain sight. Other than both being alumni of Indiana University, they didn’t have much else in common. Dr. Miller led the ethnomusicology division, specializing in Asian musics. He plays kaen (also spelled khaen, khene), a free-reed mouth organ of Thailand[1] among other things. He founded the Chinese ensemble, the Thai ensemble and the gamelan ensemble—things one would not expect to find in a small Midwestern college town. In addition to subjects in ethnomusicology, Dr. Miller taught twentieth-century music history and the bibliography/research class that all graduate students had to take.
He was feared, at least among international students, for his strict rules and high expectations. Entering the program in the spring semester, I had half a year to get to know him personally first. Tall and skinny, with his curly hair, big eyes and glasses, Dr. Miller looked more like a mad scientist than a musician. He conducted his classes with the precision of scientific projects. His syllabuses were clearly laid out with detailed instructions for reading and written assignments and deadlines.
In the bibliography class, each week we learned different types of reference book, e.g., “catalog,” “index,” “bibliography.” Dr. Miller would give general information on the particular kinds of books. Students would then use items from our library to demonstrate the usefulness of these books. In my four years at NTNU, I never stepped into the library. I did know how to use library index cards—something I learned in high school. Terms like “bibliography of bibliographies” sounded more like a tongue twister to me than actual things. But I learned the existence of some important reference sources. A few of them were crucial to my dissertation.
Dr. Miller has a dry sense of humor and he delivers his punch line without any facial expressions. I remembered him saying that whoever tried to “read” and/or memorize the books we examined in class should be institutionalized. I giggled. Whenever I caught on with his funny tales, I would laugh. One day he said, in front of the class, that I was the first Asian student ever to laugh at his jokes. He asked if I knew what I was laughing about. I said, “Yes.” He obviously didn’t believe me. Several years later he asked me the same question at a party.
One objective of the class was to prepare us for academic writing, both in structure and style. We were to practice writing essay, using Turabian[2] as our style guide. Before taking the class, I didn’t know it was necessary to provide reference citations. (I cannot recall ever writing any formal reports in my undergraduate years. My essay for Dr. Quereau wasn’t supposed to be a real “paper.”) I don’t remember the subject of my paper for the class. I do remember flipping through Turabian to find the right format for each note. Proper application of punctuation was another area that I had to take caution since there were minor differences in punctuation between Chinese and English. Oh, and the spaces. . ..
I didn’t know then that I would become a musicology student. Nor was I thinking about writing scholar publications. But I learned the importance of respecting intellectual properties. I also learned, from studying the sources that I quoted, these citations would be helpful to other scholars and researchers interested in the same subject. I thank Dr. Miller for his thoroughness in preparing us.
In my final year of class work I took “Introduction of Ethnomusicology.” Other than learning the history and development of ethnomusicology, we had to practice transcribing field recordings. We also had to find a subject, do some “field research”—interviews and recording, submit our finding along with a paper. [3] The workload was so heavy that it became a tradition that all students would take an “incomplete.” I refused to do so at first. I ran into Dr. Miller several times during finals week. He continued to persuade me. Eventually, I realized that rushing through things just to get done really didn’t make sense. (Of course, by then, I was too exhausted to push forward.) I learned the important lesson of acknowledging my limit. This might seem inconsequential to many. But, for me, pride has always been a hindrance.
Dr. Miller has always kept a busy agenda: traveling extensively for researches and conferences. In addition to musical studies, he is also an expert in covered bridges. He has written about them.[4] Recently, he appeared in an episode of PBS’s NOVA series: “Operation Bridge Rescue”[5]
I remain in touch with Dr. Miller. Every year, I would send holiday greetings to him and Sara, his wife who is also a scholar. And, in return, I would receive a long letter about their extended family, their international travels, and publications. It doesn’t seem that they will slow down anytime soon.
[1] Khene_Wiki
[2] Kate L. Turabian, A Manual for Writers of Research Papers, Theses, and Dissertations, 4th ed. (Chicago: University Chicago Press, 1973).
[3] My report was on bandura, a Ukrainian plucked-string instrument.
Bandura_Wiki
A choral conducting student of Ukrainian ancestry helped me completing the project. Here’s an introduction to the instrument and Ukrainian
Bandurist Chorus: Ukrainian Bandurist Chorus
[4] Terry E. Miller and Ronald G. Knapp, America’s Covered Bridges: Practical Crossings—Nostalgic
Icons (Clarendon: Tuttle Publishing, 2014). Reissued August 2017.
[5] operation-bridge-rescue-PBS-NOVA
