MAY 20, 2026 – I didn’t forget. Early this morning when I first saw today’s date, I immediately thought of Dad. If he hadn’t died 16 years ago earlier this month, he would’ve turned 104 today. My three sisters, independently of one another and of me, were also thinking about Dad today.
Later this morning while I was focused on work at my computer, my concentration was interrupted by a series of text messages. They pinged in quick succession from my three sisters. I joined in as I could—but feeling a bit like a guy wielding a broom jumping into a chorus of angels keeping rhythm with wands:
Sister #1: Happy Birthday, Dad!
Sister #2: [Hearts]
Sister #3: Which composer would you listen to today that would most remind you of our wonderful, beautiful, amazing dad?
Sister #1: Schubert of course!!
Sister #3: That was my first thought too!
Sister #2: Tie between Schubert and Beethoven?
Sister #3: … and that was my second thought!
Brother: Schubert, of course! NINA!!!!!! I’d just hit the exclamation mark (but not “send”) when your text arrived! While I’m at it, though, as a backup suggestion, I’d say “Smile” by Charlie Chaplin. Elsa—agreed, Beethoven would have to be in the mix. Remember Dad at the piano of [our family home] playing the Adagio from the Pathétique? Exquisite.
Sister #1: Of course I remember his rendition of the slow movement of the Pathétique (and I emulate it whenever I play it on their old Steinway). It was the music of Schubert that first captivated Dad when at age 5 he was taken to see “Blossoms in Springtime,” featuring works of Schubert. Even though of a tender age, he didn’t need the pre-show warning of his parents to sit still and be quiet. He was transfixed from the moment the curtain opened to reveal white blossoms fluttering down from artificial trees, with Schubert’s music playing in the background.
Sister #3: I never knew this about his introduction to Schubert!
Brother: Nor did I. It explains the scene I’ll never forget (and have written about previously)—up at the cabin, when I’d rushed over to say good-bye for the weekend, and Dad insisted on detaining me long enough to listen to a Schubert lied sung by Fischer-Diskau. He sat back in the rocker, eyes closed, smile across his face. The music transported him straight off to heaven. I took his cue, calmed my heartbeat down to a resting pulse (ignoring the urgency of departure plans back at the Red Cabin) and likewise felt self and woes carried off. I often revisit that precious memory.
Sister #2: For me, listening to music at the cabin, no matter the weather, time of year or any other circumstances is like hearing it at its most magical and haunting. Many angels seem present.
Brother: [Heart]
Dad was a man defined by extraordinary talents and many deeply cultivated interests. But of all the music-lovers I’ve encountered in life, I don’t think any could surpass Dad in his appreciation for great classical music—performed at world class standards; any except, perhaps . . . my three sisters. What Dad loved most in life, however, was his family. He would be wholly satisfied to know that that love is his greatest legacy.
This evening when I hopped in the car to go pick-up take-out for Beth and me, playing on “Symphony Hall,” the lone classical channel among the many hundreds of choices on SiriusXM, was nothing less divine than . . . Schubert’s Ninth. I didn’t need the benefit of the day’s earlier text exchange to think immediately of Dad again. Later this evening, while I was listening to a YouTube recording of Beethoven’s Pathétique, what should automatically follow? Of course: Schubert’s Impromptu in G flat. As long as the music plays, memories of Dad will be alive and well.
Without a search, I couldn’t tell you the day of Schubert’s birth, but it might as well have been this day, May 20, the day Dad came into this world to brighten it for all of his nearly 88 years.
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© 2026 by Eric Nilsson
