First lessons in silence

I’m writing these blogs about music to provide momentary diversion from the sad lunacy that has gripped the corporate/government /media complex.  If I blog about Jump Jim Crow those readers of nearby bandwidth may recognize a metaphor for beautiful and honorable statues.  I still own a teacher scrawled upon Schirmer edition entitled “First Lessons in Bach.”  Recently I lightheartedly referred to my initial piano teacher as “vivid”; she was in truth an acquired taste.  I’m only six, so her age, of course, was of impossible estimation.  She was a rehearsal pianist for the Cleveland Orchestra; imagine that. I spent the day of our first lesson digging in dirt, slipping accidently into ponds, running the bases under a hot afternoon sun, and testing out some worms on the way home.  I’m gloriously aromatic.  In counterpoint she wore a huge fur coat with scarf, babushka, and dress saturated in perfumes and...(Read Full Post)
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