My Musical Family 


Visiting with my brother today reminded me of how music can define a family.  

My brother Tom’s daughter and her two young daughters are living with Tom and wife Diana. Every generation of our family has received a good dose of music, and one kid a generation is outstanding. Everyone has been noting how musical is the oldest, Arianna, She has been learning songs at an amazing rate for a seven year old. And, she has been teaching herself to play the piano.

I get back to my hometown a few times a year. A couple of visits ago, I noticed that Ari was playing this little kid’s tune on the piano, the one that uses alternately the two index fingers on each hand playing the black keys: A# F# G# F# D# F# C# F#. She had the first strain right (it repeats three times), but hadn’t learned how to finish it. She kept eyeing me as she was playing it. Everyone else in the room seemed oblivious to this little drama, but I simply went over and taught her the ending, which continues the downward descent of the bottom note (underline represents an octave lower): A# F# G# F# F# F# F#. She picked it right up. Not only that, but a couple of months later, when she and her sister came roaring into the room on another visit, she headed straight to the piano and immediately reminded everyone of her accomplishment musically. Again, I got it.

Then on a still later visit, I taught her chopsticks, which she again immediately announced on this most recent visit today. Ari and I are on the same page, musically speaking. Tom had brought to the four generations of us Papa John’s square pizza and wife Diana had brought brownies and ice cream. There was my 92-year-old mom, brother Tom and wife, daughter Heidi, and the two daughters. There were lots of laughs and jokes and catching up with Uncle Jim and Uncle Stephen.

Then it happened, the miracle of musical kinship. My brother has forged his own musical path as guitar player and songwriter. I’m in the middle of another conversation as I hear that he has taught Ari the Alphabet Song: “A, you’re adorable, B, you’re so beautiful, C, you’re a cutie full of charm.” I jumped up, sat down at the piano, identified the key they were singing in, and in an instant the room was full of the song, accompaniment and all. The little girls were getting one of the most effective music lessons any child could hope to have: being surrounded by music-loving and music-making relatives.

It’s just always been that way for us. My brother and I played sax and piano a la Paul Desmond and Dave Brubeck when we roomed together in college. In high school the three sibs, my sister, brother and I, had a whole repertory of pop songs that we sang three-part harmony to, accompanied by my guitar playing. There was Peter, Paul and Mary’s “San Francisco Bay Blues,” The Beach Boys’ “In My Room,” and on and on: “I Put a Spell on You, “ “My Baby Wrote Me a Letter,”

But how did we get there? Mom and dad sang to us as we drove to the open-air theatre. We sang the songs of an older generation when we were just babies. “On a Chinese Honeymoon,” “Dinah, Won’t You Blow Your Horn,” and “On the Banks of the Wabash.” Mom taught herself to play the piano, and dreamed of a son who could play Chopin. She got me. Her grandmamma was one of twelve German immigrants, and they had their own country music band: grandma played concertina and harmonica, and her brother Dan played violin. My dad’s dad was a singer, and his dad was legendary for being able to stand in the town square of Binche, Belgium and be heard for six blocks. I haven’t even mentioned that Tom’s other child, Adam, (Heidi’s twin brother) got the musical genius in that generation: he’s working on a masters degree in piano performance.

Here’s a thought I’m going to leave you with. You know how when you go to a movie without music, you really notice it? It seems that something is really missing. Who can imagine Star Wars without John William’s music? Anyway, the point is, in my life, in my family, there is always background music. I wouldn’t know what to do without it. Music makes my heart glad and my life fuller.

P.S.: Many thanks for the baby pic to Milwaukee Moms.  

Posted: Wed - November 2, 2005 at 11:31 AM          


©