Most of my memories of mom are musical. My earliest memories from my toddler years were of standing in the front pew of the church, watching as she played piano for worship services, often singing duets with Dad, who was the pastor, for offertory or special music. Before long she was teaching Jeff piano lessons, and I would listen while he practiced, and then go try to play what I heard. I later learned he hated when I did that because I couldn’t even read yet, and I had no business being able to play by ear what he was working on learning by note!
Mom figured out I needed some lessons pretty quickly, and then the real struggle began – the struggle of wills! I was a very stubborn and strong-willed child and I made her life difficult, what with not wanting to be told what and how to practice. Mother decided Jeff and I should play some piano duets, so naturally she arranged music for us to play together. Imagine us sitting side by side on the piano bench, mortal enemies FORCED to cooperate musically… the musical battles were only beginning! Lol! In a time where autism and how it manifests in black-and-white thinking wasn’t even thought of yet, our personality clashes were I suppose considered evidence of the Total Depravity of the human heart.
In any case, that was how my musical life began – reading my mother’s musical script on piano arrangements. Then, when I started playing viola around age 10, and Jeff was already playing the cello, she would arrange solos and duets for us, trios with her on the piano, or her on the cello – and later still, when Doug began playing cello, we played 3-cello/viola quartets for years. We also sang together as a family, and of course she arranged for those ensembles as well. We took our little show on the road to play for church services and weddings in many states and provinces.
In the last few years when she lived with us, after her piano was moved down here from Minnesota, she would sit down from time to time to play – though diabetic retinopathy had stolen most of her sight, the musical and muscle memories remained keen and it was beautiful to watch her hands flow nimbly over the keys and listen to the familiar style of her improvisation. One of her oft repeated phrases was “There’s a song for everything!” and she would prove it daily, finding a musical connection to something in any given conversation, or as we drove about town in the Big Red Van. Even now, especially when driving around with Jeff, one or both of us will be popping off with songs one after the other. There truly is a song for everything!
A few days ago, out of the blue, I received a package from my Aunt Kathy in Illinois. She was mom’s younger brother Dave’s wife, and shared much in common with mom as minister/missionary wives who sang, played piano, organ, and accordion, and made music with their husbands in ministry around the world. She and Dave were missionaries in Brazil for many years. Uncle Dave was a marvelous singer and played the violin, taking after his dad, my grandpa, a self-taught violinist. So it was an absolute delight to open this package and find inside my mom’s familiar notations on pieces she had arranged for piano and violin so long ago – before I was even born I imagine! It brought back so, so many good memories, and though I have not played my viola in years, I was inspired to get it out and set up a little still life to celebrate mom, who was without question the biggest musical influence in my life. I dedicate these photos to my dear mother, my dear Uncle Dave, and my beloved Aunt Kathy, who is still playing piano several times a week for chapel services and nursing home residents. May the music live on!
Mom together with Dave and Kathy as they traveled through town to see their kids in California a few years ago. Mom, Dad and Dave are making music together in heaven, singing the praises of their Savior, I am confident.
