Chapter Forty-Two

Here’s the next Chapter of Lost and Found.

With today’s posting I am excited to do what I could never do in a regular book. I can let you hear the music I was hearing as I walked up to my teacher’s studio. Not only can you hear it, you can also watch a brilliant performer play the piece. I like this version I’ve embedded in the blog because in some ways, the performer in the video has certain resemblances to my wonderful teacher.

I hope you enjoy this. Let me know what you think. I plan to continue to do this for events in this memoir about the musical aspects of my young life.

Be well — be in peace,

Ron Rink
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For a moment, I was speechless. The woman was strikingly beautiful. The first thought that ran through my mind was how she reminded me of a pin-up picture one of the guys at the Sugar Bowl had tacked up on the wall above the booths. I don’t know who was in that picture, but Miss Thomas bore an interesting resemblance to whoever it was.

She spoke with the softest, smoothest voice I had ever heard. I almost missed her words because of a slight, lilting accent. Her skin was the color of coffee with cream in it. Her face looked like it had been chiseled out of a precious stone. Her eyes were a dark brownish-green that reminded me of a jade-colored plate that I saw in the china-cupboard at my grandmother’s house. Her brightly colored, flower-patterned dress was short-sleeved and one of her long, light-brown, graceful arms was still reaching towards me to shake my hand. I’m sure my mouth was hanging open as I gazed at the woman. A thought of Mrs. Wolpert flashed through my mind and I felt a sudden, but certain joy that she was no longer my teacher.

I took her extended hand and shook it. “Y-yes, Ma’am. I’m h-here for my audition. A-are you M-miss Thomas?” I had never stuttered before in my life.

Her smile grew larger as she held my hand and drew me through the door into the room. She gestured toward a straight chair next to a side window on my right. “It’s very nice to meet you, Roland. Please come in and have a seat while we talk for a couple of minutes.”

I set my music on one of the piano benches and went to the chair.

The room was large and there were two baby-grand pianos sitting side-by-side in the middle of the room that were angled, so when you were at the piano, you could see out of the windows into the backyard. There was a couch on the wall to my left, a desk and chair next to the chair where I was sitting, several plants in the windows and a bouquet of flowers on a small table next to the couch. There were piano lamps on each of the pianos, as well as lamps on the desk, table and next to the couch. There was a closed door at the back of the room.

Miss Thomas pulled the chair out by her desk, sat down,and asked, “Did you have any trouble getting here, Roland?”

“No, Ma’am. I had to take two buses, but it wasn’t hard to find. What was the music you were playing when I came back here?” I blurted. “That was so beautiful.”

She leaned forward. The look on her face made me feel as though she was happy that I asked. “Thank you. That was by Johannes Brahms. It’s called Rhapsody in g. What did you like about it?”

I could barely keep my eyes on her face. I felt so shy all of a sudden. “I liked the way it made me feel. It made me feel excited, happy and sad all at the same time.”

Miss Thomas leaned back in her chair with a pleased smile. “Good for you! Perhaps that’s precisely what Mr. Brahms had in mind when he wrote it. I know that when I play it I feel the same way. Not only does it make me feel excited in a good way, I also feel a little sadness sometimes too. It’s also an invigorating piece to play. I’m so pleased to hear someone your age talk about music making you feel something.”

(NOTE: Here’s a video of the Brahms Rhapsody in G minor op. 79 no. 2, being played by Citlalli Guevara. This is what Miss Thomas was playing as I walked up to the studio.)

I don’t think Miss Thomas had any inclination as to how excited I was to not only be hearing someone praise something I said or felt, but also how entranced I was by her voice and her accent. When she spoke her accent made me think of someone singing—there was so much more variation in the tones than I was used to hearing. Her voice was sweet and husky at the same time. It made me think of melted butter for some reason. My levels of curiosity were growing rapidly. I wanted to know everything about her.

Miss Thomas asked, “I think your mother said you were ten years old, is that right?”

“Yes, Ma’am, I was ten in January.”

Miss Thomas took a small notepad from the top of her desk and wrote something in it.

“When did you start to learn the piano?”

“I think I was either five or six years old.”

She again wrote on her pad and followed with, “Did you have a piano teacher, or did you learn from one of your parents?”

“I started with my mother for about a year. She’s a church organist. After that, I had a teacher, Mrs. Wolpert, but she got arrested about a year ago because she was a German. I started teaching myself after that.”

After hearing about Mrs. Wolpert being arrested, Miss Thomas’ expression changed dramatically. She looked shocked, surprised, sad and perhaps a bit angry. I got the feeling that she was going to say something more about that, but after a moment, Miss Thomas smiled and asked, “Did you bring any of the music that you were learning on your own?”

I picked up the 52 Pieces book from the piano bench and stood by her side at the desk. I showed her some of the pieces I had learned and she nodded her head and said, “Mm-hmm” a few times as she looked at them. She looked at me and smiled as she handed me back the book. “I think I asked you to prepare a Bach Prelude and Fugue for today. Are you ready to play them for me?”

I nodded.
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My other blog about Buddhism

http://www.buddhistbelief.com
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