A Story for my Mother

1/21/16

There is an old tale about a musician whose piano is taken away. There is no way he can get to a piano. Perhaps he was in a concentration camp. He learns the violin. After attaining mastery-thousands of hours and many years later- he loses a finger in an accident. He relearns: a new bow grip.

Years later there is another war. His violin is destroyed. He cannot buy another. He learns, at his advanced age, to sing.

Throat cancer robs him of his voice, the singing voice. He learns to compose. Arthritis destroys his ability to write. His heart still sings. His face a radiant smile. His raspy words a joy to all who hear, many come from far and wide to just be with him.

When he dies in the arms of his beloved children, his spirit resounds in their hearts.

Bartok's Miraculous Mandarin always reminds me of this story. Levon Helm’s resilience and courage and the way he passed his musical legacy to his daughter come to mind.

Bartok, Stravinsky, Picasso. My mother was fascinated by Picasso. Her explorations of many styles and media may have been inspired by the Spanish master.