APRIL 24, 2021 – Yesterday brought another “first-in-a-year”: practicing violin with my pianist collaborator, Sally. Though she and her husband, Don, plus friends Liz and Perry, and my wife and I had visited via Zoom a time ago, I’d not seen Sally—or Don—in person in over a year, let alone inside their old, beautiful St. Paul home.
In the 45 minutes it took me to pull my violin out of its case, we discussed The Trial, The Verdict, and other subjects of mutual interest. When Sally finally gave me an “A” from her museum-quality, fully restored, Steinway grand, the pitch was within a slight wobble of my own open A-string. I tuned, then nodded, and Sally began the melodious introduction to Antonín Dvořák’s Romance.
In fits and starts and out of anyone’s earshot, I’d been working on the piece during the pandemic. Eons ago, thinking we’d play it one day, I’d given Sally the piano part. Ever the A-student (a law school classmate of mine and throughout her practice, a highly regarded employment law attorney with a prestigious Twin Cities firm), Sally had studied the piece conscientiously during Covid. Her command of the music proved that she’d practiced more than I had.
As I listened to her phrasing and legato touch, I fought the compulsion to interrupt just before my entrance. I felt moved to tell her how beautiful it sounded . . . and knew too that a break would reduce the contrast with the lesser quality of my own playing. But mostly I worked to control a swell of emotion. After a storm-ridden year, the sun was finally shining through, as if to give us aboard Ernest Shackleton’s open boat a fleeting chance to find our bearings over uncharted waters of the perilous South Atlantic.
We navigated our way through the Romance, and after the last note faded, we cheered: Eric hadn’t been too lost at sea.
We returned to explore the waters we’d crossed, and by the end of our expedition, I’d managed to coax some of the old sweetness out of my wooden music box. When life is good, it’s great.
As I packed up, I floated the idea of resuming our 10-year project of house concerts, replete with “themes,” histories (as undergraduates, Sally and I were history majors; we remain dedicated students of history), and humor . . . planned and unplanned . . . all supported by elaborate PowerPoint displays. In a line of “how abouts,” I spoke of doing a show centered around Dvořák and inviting the inimitable Dr. Pavel Šebesta, a family friend from Prague (See blog post 6/5/20), among whose heart patients was none other than Dvořák’s grandson, to give our audience a closer look into the heart and soul of the great Czech composer.
Sally immediately summoned the name of Naomi, an immigration lawyer and loyal attendee of our house concerts, who herself has Prague roots, and “Inka,” who, with origins in Dvořák’s home, dodged the Holocaust, and as Sally explained, was a veritable “Forrest Gump” of 20th European century history.
Stay tuned . . . and in tune!
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© 2021 by Eric Nilsson
