INFLUENCES OF NOTE. .

               While listening to Mozart's 13th symphony this week, I wondered about the origins of my appreciation.  In my formative years, there was little classical music in my environment . . . except
Public School Music.  For maybe an hour or so per week, our Fourth Grade class (as I remember it) would go to Mrs. Mary Frances Morgan's classroom where she would extol the virtues and beauty of various pieces of classical music.  While she likely introduced  us to several composers and their work, two are locked in my mind . . . The William Tell Overture (which  every man my age knows as the theme music for The Lone Ranger) and Grieg's Peer Gynt Suites.  With the high school students, she even produced  Gilbert and Sullivan's The Mikado, which her husband, the Coach, called The Mickey-Do.  {Still unsure why trivia like that is stored away in the brain folds while 'important' matters are not always readily retrievable.}

       In an earlier post ('Music to My Ears'), I acknowledged my unsophisticated and subjective approach to music . . . I just know what I like.  I am unable to converse in depth about what makes 'good' music.  But, unlike another coach/teacher who told us that he did not enjoy music by "sympathy orchestras", I have my favorites.
I think the Second movement of the aforementioned Mozart 13th
ranks as one of the most beautiful ever composed.

       In that Mrs. Morgan's classes were almost seventy years ago, I assume that she has  since taken her 'final curtain call'.  I wish that I had recognized her influence earlier and thanked her.  That being no longer possible, I make it a  point to say my appreciation to those whose music I find enriching.

      John is Organist at the Presbyterian church my wife and I attend. For many years he was Organist at a large Chicago church but has now returned to North Carolina, living near his hometown.  His influence here is evident in many ways.  Members of the choir speak appreciatively of his insistence upon excellence. Thus far, we have been unable to convince him to play a Sunday afternoon recital/concert.   Each Sunday, in addition to appreciating how his talent enhances the worship service,  I look forward to his Postlude.  At times like that,  I hear echoes of my parents telling me that the time would come that I would wish I had been diligent in practicing my piano lessons.  Sure enough, I wish that I had allowed them more influence about such matters  . . . or maybe I just recognized my limitations.    

     Seventy years later, Mrs. Morgan, "Thanks".

        Satchel