APRIL 10, 2026 – (Cont.) I’ve been asked to play my violin at the memorial service (for class members no long with us) at our upcoming 50th college class reunion. The occasion contrasts starkly with my “Fiddler Under the Roof” winter concerts, which featured wild and crazy PowerPoint slide shows, hors d’oeuvres and wine (for the crowd, not the performers, to “take the edge off our mistakes”). Wearing “concert black” (as opposed to “funereal black,” yet in keeping with the solemnity of the affair), keeping my mouth absolutely shut and adopting a respectfully solemn countenance, I hope to give the music an honorable rendering. At a minimum, I must observe the Hippocratic Oath: “Do no harm.”
In other words, conscientious preparation is required to ensure that the deceased and the living alike are respected.
The piece I’ve selected for the service—the first of Antonín Dvořák’s “Four Romantic Pieces for Violin and Piano”—is music my piano collaborator, Sally Scoggin, and I performed “Under the Roof” and on agreeable terms for an audience well plied with the libations of Bacchus. The performance was received with hearty applause and not, I assume, out of relief that it was over. But that rendition was years ago. The bow and fiddle are the same, but is the violinist? Hmmm. After we revived the piece in a few run-throughs several weeks ago, Sally kindly assured me that my part was still “ready for show.”
But Sally won’t be accompanying my wife and me to Maine for the reunion—to be my pianist collaborator at the memorial service. That role, as it turns out, falls upon a classmate (Lisa) recruited by yet another classmate (Nancy) who’s orchestrated the memorial service program—including the multiple musical elements, all performed by still more classmates. Unbeknownst to me, Lisa was a music major in college and is a highly accomplished pianist—as represented by her close friend Nancy, whose own musical bona fides were well established by the time she was admitted to NEC (New England Conservatory) for pursuit of a masters degree (in voice) after college.
At any rate, the piano half of the Dvořák is eminently manageable, and I have complete confidence in Nancy’s seal of approval and enthusiastic recruitment of Lisa. But after the spring equinox, with the days growing longer and the reunion looming closer, self-doubt crept into my thoughts as I resuscitated the Dvořák: Nancy and Lisa haven’t actually heard me play! “What if when they did hear me, they cringe?” I worried nearly aloud. “If I wait until the reunion itself, it would be too late. Nancy would be in a panic. Lisa would be upset with Nancy for having put her, Lisa, up to an unwelcome task. And I would have egg on my face—or, if you knew the inside story of our junior year—a whipped cream pie.”[1]
What to do? Lisa had already asked me to send a recording of me playing my half of the Dvořák to give her an idea of my choice in tempo and various nuances that I inject into the piece, intentionally or unwittingly; musically appropriate or otherwise. But that entails my having to make such a recording, which requires me to listen to it before sending it, which means . . .
EXACTLY! . . . which means I’ll have to take a lesson from “the best teacher in the world.” Gulp! (Cont.)
Subscribe to this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.
© 2026 by Eric Nilsson
[1] An inside joke for “people in the know.” During the second semester of our junior year, my good friend and co-conspirator, “JO,” formed the “Bowdoin Pie Throwers Organization,” or “B.P.T.O.,” that terrorized the student body by hiring out hitmen in disguise to throw whipped cream pies at designated victims. The most desirable time for the hits was when most people were at dinner. Business was so brisk that many student—fearful that friends (and enemies) would take out contracts on them—quit going to their respective dining halls. Phase II of the operation targeted college faculty and administration. All proceeds were donated to the American Friends Society as a conduit for Vietnamese children suffering from the chaos that ensued from the fall of Saigon. I know I’ve given a more detailed account of the B.P.T.O. elsewhere on this blog site. You’re likely to find it if you search, “Bowdoin College,” “President Howell,” and “CBS Evening News.”
