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BEGINNINGS
Some, myself once includedwonder where time and space beganfor all things must have a beginningif they are to have an endas we are certain we will too soon.I don’t stop and wonder whythat matters, how knowledge wouldchange anything at all.Species we have rendered extinctwould remain so, Van Gogh’s paintingswould see no less beautiful,Beethoven’s carefully crafted…
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WOLFGANG
I suppose it will sound odd, butthere was a time when, in additionto the Rock and Folk music I loved,classical music was a key partof my life and helped make me whatI am today: a now retired attorney.And not just any classical music,although I loved many of the masters,Beethoven, Schubert, Bach, others,(sorry Mahler, Shostokovich butlines…
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THE CLASSICS
He says he has always hated classical music,and would rather listen to nails dragged across a chalkboard.He has been out of school for many years so Isuspect he no longer realizes what nailson a chalkboard really sounds like, how evenopera, which I can’t tolerate, would be preferable.He rattles off a list of composers he despises,Mozart,…
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BLESSING
There is a blessing in silence that we so often deny ourselves, unaware that it lies just beyond the noise of our minds and lives. We crave it, beg for it, and hearing the beggar, shun him for the noise he carries like the skin he cannot molt. Beethoven understood silence in his later years…
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SOUL MUSIC
The first time I heard Mozart, I swore I was in a biblical garden and I was content to sit and listen for eternity. The serpent came along, as they do in such gardens, as I recall, with the face of Beethoven, though now I am convinced it was just Mahler trying to pass. I…
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LUDWIG
When I was twelve, I think, maybe in the last days of eleven, and in my third year of piano lessons my teacher, Mrs. Schwarting, she of no first name, and a steady hand that could squeeze the muscle of my shoulder, a taloned metronome, gave me a small plastic bust of Beethoven, told me…
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FUGUE
The name on the door says Richard Strauss though the lack of music emanating from within the room suggests he may be napping or off doing something more important than entertaining those of us out in the hall of the nursing home. It’s no surprise, he’d be in a home now, more odd that he…
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FERRYMAN
He comes to me in the dead hour of night the old shriveled man poling his poor ferry across the river of my dreams. He comes when the moon has fled and the stars fall mute and he beckons me holding out the copper coins stating his fare. He comes to me, beckoning, and for…
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an old writer and his words 