RIGHT AT HOME

   RIGHT AT HOME

    

The music is hauntingly beautiful, the Right hand melody pulls us in with exquisite weighted tone with the  moving left hand accompaniment barely a whisper, a perfect balance. The melody, quite profoundly sad suddenly soars on the final line. But then the highest note is sustained, almost achingly so, until I must hold my breath until its resolve and listen to the tender pianissimo chords that end the piece. In the silence that follows, I finally lift my head to look at the pianist who has just played so sublimely.

It is my son Christian, he is only  just five years old. Our eyes meet and there is no need for words, he is completely aware of what he has just shared. And in that moment, as I look at my cherub, with his knowing blue eyes and wavy hair, I understand that his talent and brilliance were meant to be shared. I was simply entrusted by God to raise this little "Beethoven" boy whose gift was  so undeniable.

I do not claim that Christian is the next Beethoven, but because of our shared love of this composer and Christian's dramatic temperament, it seemed like "Raising Beethoven," is a fitting name for this blog. Besides, Christian is a teenager and still has his life ahead of him to develop his talents but everyone who has heard him play agrees that he has an extraordinary gift!

Christian has had some incredible dreams involving the piano but this is the first one that truly stood out.

     Shortly after he turned five, Christian had a very vivid dream that on the day he was born, he was wearing a tuxedo (with tails) and holding a conductor's baton and was whisked straight from the delivery room to the Jack Singer Concert Hall to conduct his first symphony concert. I still remember his tremendous excitement as my little boy shared his detailed dream with me while I listened with very wide eyes, recognizing it was rather remarkable.

    Immediately, after the dream, Christian became obsessed with owning a black tuxedo with tails...the longer tails the better. Most boys are excited to wear their favourite hockey player's jersey but my boy longed for his very own tuxedo.


 A month later, we were given reason to buy him one when Christian was chosen to make Jubilee Auditorium debut at the precious age of five in the Kiwanis Festival "Stars of the Festival." We found a tiny tuxedo that fit (no tails sadly, Christian was terribly sad about that part). He was only about 34 pounds, slim build and he looked utterly adorable. In fact, to me, Christian resembled an angel with his startling blue eyes and longish dark blonde curls. 

     I still pocket the memory as though it was yesterday, I was holding his hand as we walked into the concert hall together the day of his first sound check.  I caught my breath at the size of the theatre but tried to hid my nerves smiling down at him to ask "How do you feel, honey?"

Christian's eyes were bright and happy as he surveyed the theatre, he answered me honestly saying, "Mommy, I just feel right at home!" He then left to go and explore, still a most curious five-year old beneath all that talent.

Four months later and just turned six, Christian was asked to play at the opening of the new Alberta Children's Hospital in Calgary. Irene Besse, an iconic business woman/musician donated a unique piano that had angel wings to the hospital so it was huge honour for Christian to be asked to play it for the first time at this gala affair.



Later that year, Irene Besse asked Christian to play a donated Roland digital piano at the new Ronald McDonald House built near the hospital. Christian and his sister, Malia would share their musical gifts many times through the years for the patients, their families and staff. The experience would be incredibly meaningful for all.

"RIGHT AT HOME," they were words that would prove prophetic, this stage would be the first of many for Christian, the journey had begun.

BEETHOVEN'S SISTER

When my Beethoven boy was just two years old, he would chat incessantly about his need for a baby sister, often requesting one hundred baby sisters but, "AT LEAST ONE BABY SISTER, MOMMY, my little BEETHOVEN would demand quite emphatically.

Christian was a very articulate and strong-willed two year old and probably the most beautiful thing about him was his unwavering faith in God. So, he was good natured really about what his life would look like and feel like once his sisters had arrived and so began the waiting...and WAITING!

Well, of course, there is a practical side to having a baby and my husband and I very much wanted Christian to have a sibling despite many infertility problems. We were older parents and had so many things stacked against us in conceiving another miracle baby that we started to look seriously at adoption.

The simple fact was that I loved being a mother and it didn't matter to me where that child came from,  my heart was wide open and very willing.

During this period, I loved my many lengthy conversations with Christian who had a very kind heart and was innately musical. Even at eight months at age, Christian would wave his hands dramatically like a conductor whenever music was playing, always perfectly in time with the nuances of the music. Learning to walk at twelve months, Christian would reach up to push down a piano key with a secretly rapt expression on his face....he already knew that the piano would be his voice. Christian asked me daily WHEN HIS SISTER was coming, he was becoming impatient.

Late miscarriages and a serious eptopic pregnancy  turned Christian's quest for a sister towards adoption as a wonderful way to grow our family. Finally, we were matched with a beautiful little girl named Emma who was eighteen months old who had a young mother who was simply not ready emotionally or finacially to be be a parent.

Christian was over the moon and once this birth parent had selected us, things moved very quickly and we let Christian know that his sister would arrive within a week. Suddenly, a change of heart with the birth mother cancelling the adoption and we all shed buckets of tears. I remember Christian screaming at me in the van to drive to Emma's because HE, my articulate two-year old son, would convince the other mommy to let us bring his sister home.

Six weeks later with a heavy heart, just after my 40th birthday, I flew across Canada to Ontario for my job as an examiner for the Royal Conservatory of Music. I would be away for three weeks, the longest time I had ever been away from Christian and I missed him terribly. We would talk on the phone and he would talk about how his sister was still coming and despite anything I said to the contrary, my stubborn now three-year old was adamant that he would be a brother.

Two weeks into my absence, I had symptons of being pregnant but dared getting my hopes up because of the gut-wrenching 12 week miscarriage, I had endured the year before. I finally shared the news with my husband, he was cautious and we made the decision together not to say anything to Christian.

Weeks crept by and one day, when I was still only about six weeks pregnant, Christian came up and shyly put his hand on my tummy and told me proudly that his sister was in there. I was completely shocked and told him that wasn't true but everyday, he would come over and put his hands on my flat stomach and talk to his baby sister.

Eight and one-half months later, Malia Cheryle Ashley Kerr was born on February 16th and our dreams of giving Christian a  sister was a real-life miracle. Our baby girl was perfect, beautiful and we all felt so very blessed.

Poor Christian, who was now 3, had to wait two miserable days at home to finally meet his beloved sister because of a nasty cold/cough that he was battling. I can still remember opening the door and Christian shrieking with joy and him sliding down the stairs on his bum to greet her.  Ten minutes later, his two-day old sister wide-eyed and calm lay nestled in her new brother's arms as he read to her his cherished book, "Blue Hat, Green Hat." The Christian and Malia team were now truly official!

LOVE'S GENEROSITY

It is difficult to fully explain how much Christian's unwavering faith played a role in his darling, little sister being born.....destiny knew that Christian needed this precious little girl to help him navigate his extraordinary life, and it didn't matter that doctors had said it would and could not happen! Miracles rarely repeat themselves and we weren't supposed to even have our son, it was my greatest blessing to be a mother again.

Malia is Christian's biggest fan but her own talents are so bright that she is not the least bit in her brother's shadows. Christian's sister had her own big personality and yet brought a peace and understanding in times when Christian faced adversity because of his talents. ! Christian may not have had his desired one hundred sisters but Malia was more than enough, the bond between them was remarkable, tightly sealed never to be broken. Malia was Christian's luminous sunshine  during times when my Beethoven Boy was hindered by dark, ferocious clouds. Malia, from the age she could speak always wanted me to leave her bedroom door open so she could fall asleep listening to her brother practice his piano....the thundering chords and melancholy melodies somehow lulling her to sleep.

One particular story sums their relationship up best...

Christian, at age seven faithfully attended Sunday school and every week, the kids had an assignment..to memorize a bible verse and to answer some questions that made their faith more relatable to their every day life. Each Sunday, the students were given the opportunity to say their verse to their teacher and turn in their homework. As a fun incentive, teachers would give the kids Monopoly money, the amount dependent on what they completed. Then, every month, teachers would wheel in a trolley of treats that ranged from candy to small gifts to a few larger items. Christian took this very seriously and faithfully completed his assignments every week. He had paid special attention to the rewards trolley because one very large and special hot wheel racetrack kit  had caught his eye and despite being the most expensive, my little Beethoven was determined to earn it. Concerned about potential disappointment, teachers calculated that it would take my determined son the full school year to obtain the $80.00 price tag..(Monopoly money) and it only allowed room for one class absense. I tried to talk Christian out of his lofty ambition but he was absolutely determined to bring that race car track home the following June. So, thus it began..Christian was fully committed to earning his maximum three dollars every class and keep it safe in an envelope. Every Sunday, he would count his money after he arrived home from church. So, was my Beethoven Boy successful....did he come home that Sunday in June with his most coveted prize?

This is where the story becomes truly interesting....the day had arrived but Christian had to go to church with his Dad as Malia had a cold and I needed to stay home with her. Christian was understandably very excited, and I couldn't wait to see him after church and play race cars on his new most well-earned track.

My husband walked in the door first followed by my beaming boy who was carrying an enormous bag.

"Christian, I can't wait to see your track!" I asked excitedly.

"Well," Christian's grin widened, "I saw my track on the trolley and I was giving my teacher my money but then I saw this HUGE FANCY DOLL and it was the same price and I just knew Malia would love it.

My son's eyes were illuminated with such incredible joy but truthfully, I felt completely stunned, even chiding Christian a little saying, "But Christian, you wanted that special track for ten months and you finally had enough money to buy it....why would you ever change your mind?!!"

At that moment, three year-old Malia walked in the room and Christian joyously, graciously, presented her with the doll. My Beethoven Boy never mentioned that track again....he had found a greater gift that made his heart feel enormous, having the power to make his little sister light up in a smile and hug him tight.

I felt my eyes fill with tears, I had never been more proud of my son than in this defining moment.

Christian's generosity towards Malia never wavered in their life together. On holidays, we would tell the children to keep their eyes out for something special to take home after their two week holiday was over and we would set a dollar figure, usually $25.00 for them to spend. Inevitably, Malia would pick out a stuffie as SHE LOVED STUFFIES and Christian would take his time looking for something special. 

On more than one holiday, Malia would spot another toy or stuffie that SHE LOVED.... and suddenly, we would see her throw her arms estatically around Christian's neck because he had pulled out ten of his dollars to give her so she could buy a second toy.

One again, I would intervene reminding Christian that Malia already had a special gift and that money was his but he would just smile and tell me that he enjoyed spoiling his little sister.

My little Beethoven boy already had his own treasure, her name was Malia and she was his sister, forever meant to be.

TOO LITTLE TO REACH THE PEDAL

When my Beethoven Boy was just little, I would say between the ages of five and nine, people would surround him when he played and marvel at his talent. "Look," they would exclaim, "his feet don't even reach the pedal." When I look back at pictures, I understand with greater clarity the reason Christian was such a novelty to people. First of all, unlike many prodigies, he wasn't the least bit shy. In fact, Christian sounded like an adult when he spoke using colourful vocabulary and tremendous clarity. 

HE was incredibly confident and engaging, a most handsome cherub looking child with big blue eyes and tousled sandy-brown hair.



I did not see it with the same eyes, he was my son and my first child. I knew that he was remarkable but I didn't fully realize the extent of his magic.






One most perfect example came to my mind and it took place on a family cruise when Christian was celebrating his seventh birthday. He had been granted permission to play the piano in the formal dining room situated in a tiny alcove about a beautiful waterfall atop two adjoining circular staircases. A performer of the string trio had heard Christian practising earlier in the day and convinced the dining room manager to let him play one piece for the dinner guests at early seating after their set. There were approximately 2,000 guests and Christian wore a darling little black tuxedo with tails for this formal occasion. Christian had often remarked to people that he loved wearing a tuxedo more than any other outfit and in fact, at the age of six, had dreamed he had been born wearing a tuxedo with tails and was whisked from the delivery room right to our city's famous concert hall where he proceeded to conduct the symphony.

 So, it was from the comfort of our dining table that I watched in somewhat awe, my handsome son stride confidently up the staircase with his music bag slung over his shoulder. Once settled, Christian, with the help of his dad, set up his tiny sustain pedal and with a contented look, began to play this beautiful black grand piano. Christian, of course, could not reach the pedal but his music demanded it so this special contraption provided a solution.

I must back up here to tell a memorable story about Christian when we were first packing to go on this special extended trip. Since our travels would include planes, ships, trains and automobiles, it was important to pack only what we (a group of three adults and two young children) absolutely needed and because the cruise would include formal nights, etc. it didn't take long before we had filled everyone's suitcase. Christian's music bag weighed more than our computer and it was then that he announced quite adamantly that he needed another suitcase for his beloved pedal box. His dad immediately trounced that idea explaining that the pedal box weighed twenty pounds, almost the same weight as our small determined little Maestro. My Beethoven boy was absolutely distraught and insisted that he could not travel without his pedal box. Without, he couldn't play properly so it was as essential to Christian as his own hands. He then announced in a very resigned voice that he, our son Christian, would NOT BE ABLE TO TRAVEL WITH HIS FAMILY TO EUROPE. This story is not the least bit enhanced, this conversation indeed happen.

There instigated an argument resulting with an inconsolable and stubborn six year old musician and a most unhappy father. The voices grew louder and more impatient, both pleading their case, Christian's voice unwavering as he stood touching his instrument and his dad's forehead perspiring with exasperation as his hands were tied about the airline and vehicle restrictions. I am rather embarrassed to say that I sided with Christian on this as the majority of his pieces needed the pedal as much as flowers need sunshine. My husband who was obviously sad and frustrated to have disappointed us finally began researching extension pedals for short, tiny people as Christian weighed less than forty pounds. So, it was with delighted astonishment that my husband discovered on the internet a contraption that weighed only two pounds that promised to strap on the right sustain pedal and would reach up to Christian's foot. We ordered it immediately, despite the fact it seemed too good to be true, and thankfully it arrived one week before our scheduled departure. My husband was full of ideas after his internet find and suggested for Christian's dangling left foot, we use a guitar foot stand. So,It was with great anticipation the first time Christian tried it out, EVERYTHING WORKED BEAUTIFULLY, PERFECTLY!! The family was once again able to breathe and best of all, go on this much-dreamed-about European vacation.

We would not have to leave our six year old son to manage the house for six weeks on his own after all!!

Parenting a gifted child is somewhat like managing a small tornado. For days, there will be calm but when a situation arises that this small human feels is of the most upmost importance, the air will start to churn around him, escalating with his heartfelt emotions and we, his parents, try to calm the storm so to speak. It requires tremendous patience, creativity and impressive negotiating skills.

However, when the storm passes, you have never witnessed such beauty!!

So now, I take you back to the cruise ship, the lovely "Voyager of the Seas," on the Royal Caribbean line.

Christian had chosen a lovely piece to play for this momentous occasion called "Serenata Siero," It opened with flashy arpeggios ending with a dramatic flourish before the gorgeous melody began. It was a moment frozen in time as I heard the beautiful notes begin, my heart beat faster and within a minute, people stopped eating their dinners and started to climb the staircase to hear my son play the piano. Flashbulbs started going off and the flow of people and cameras intermingled into a circle of light. Christian finished playing his piece and the dining room erupted in applause and the volume grew louder as he came to the edge of the alcove to take a bow. People were yelling "Another piece," "Don't Stop," and the dining room manager asked Christian to play every song he knew.


 My little Maestro had connected with people's hearts in that moment with his gift of music. It needed no translation, no explanation. It was beauty and joy in his purest form and I was privileged to witness such a moment! There were so many people that had flocked to the staircase and stood watching Christian play, many with tears streaming down their face. This was the beauty after the storm!

My Beethoven Boy was asked to play every night for the rest of the cruise and there are many more stories left to tell for another post. Suffice to say, it was the right decision to find Christian that little pedal extender as he did indeed need it!

Thanksgiving Hope

   This weekend is Canada's official Thanksgiving- a time to reflect on one's blessings, gather with loved ones, eat a fine meal, basically living a weekend that would inspire a Hallmark card. Despite having endless things to be thankful for, Thanksgiving weekend always provides me with the glaring reminder that Beethoven's mom can't cook a turkey to save her life. Heck, with my bad back, I can't even lift a turkey and to be completely honest, I prefer  to eat vegetarian dishes. However in Canada, there seems to be a tremendous pressure associated with the ability to not only cook one of these birds but to know exactly how to dress the poor thing.

    The overwhelming guilt that my son (and the rest of my poor family) have never experienced succulent dishes (okay, so it's not JUST turkey) prepared by his mother is only matched by the sheer excitement that my dismal cooking skills could be the very thing that propels him into becoming a great chef besides a great pianist. Then, it wouldn't even matter if I didn't like to eat turkeys, I could still enjoy the festivity of the entire day of turkey preparation smiling and complimenting his delicious cooking. It would be lovely...No, it would be perfect and then like every other Canadian family, I could brag about the delicious Thanksgiving dinner I had...blah, blah, 
So, for the past couple of years, I have started to watch Beethoven carefully to see if he is exhibiting any signs of talent in the kitchen using food items and frankly, I'm starting to panic. At age 13, Christian does make terrific pancakes, a spectacular creamy Kraft dinner, and perfectly grilled hot dogs but aren't these the three go-to dishes of any bachelor??? 

So, on this beautiful Thanksgiving weekend, I am grateful that Beethoven has yet another year to hone his cooking skills so I will remain hopeful. But most of all, I am grateful that I married man who is a better cook than me...okay, he's never tackled the turkey as yet, but he does make me lovely coconut pancakes so he's the right guy for me! 




However, our family are abundantly blessed!

Beethoven may just have to figure out this Thanksgiving dinner thing by himself!

So, two years later and there have been some updates! Christian filmed a Toyata commercial with lots of enormous pumpkins (see pictures) and Beethoven Boy is significantly taller than me now and I suppose I should rightfully be calling him my Beethoven young man.


He has updated his cooking list substantially and makes the most creative smoothies, delicious pancakes and steel-cut oatmeal with just a hint of vanilla.
However, the most significant change, is that my Beethoven Boy discovered that he loved baking and the very act of baking brings him a feeling of peace...a zen like calm.

 Christian has started baking with quite a passion and in fact, is so incredibly keen to bake that sometimes, it doesn't even matter to him if we actually have some of the ingredients in the house.Today, in fact, he started to make some delicious vanilla cookies only to discover we had just one egg, not two as the recipe called for, was missing lemon zest and then assembled things a trifle out of order. Disappointment grazed his face as he studied the incredibly flat white blobs willing them to still rise. Sadly, although the hint of vanilla still made the kitchen smell delightful, the cookies (if we actually use the term cookies) looked almost the same as when Christian put them in the oven except for a dark brown edge around the outsides. We decided to sample them together finding it rather difficult to bite through. 

"What are these called again," I said chewing with great effort."
"Vanilla Crisps," Christian answered also expending a rather large effort to eat his treat.
"Well," I said with a wry smile," There are certainly CRISP!"
With that, we both started to giggle and pretty soon were bent over with laughter at the mere thought of Christian offering his special dessert to his Thanksgiving dinner host.
"You should take them as a joke," I gasped! 
Christian shook his head emphatically, "No, I'd be too embarassed if they eat them!"
"No," I frowned," No!! Of course, don't let them eat them!!"
Once again, we collapsed in laughter and I thought what a wonderful Thanksgiving Day it was to be able to laugh with my son!!

So, now Beethoven Boy is downstairs baking pumpkin chocolate chip cookies and we triple checked that he had ALL the ingredients before getting down to task. Christian promises me one if they turn out since I rescued him from using baking powder instead of baking soda. He thought they were similar enough but I reminded him of the white flat cookies from his first batch and finally agreed that it would be better to follow the recipe exactly.

So, now the baking side of things seems to be sorting itself out for future Thanksgiving dinners, I turn my attention for the main course to Beethoven's sister, Malia. My hope for a chef in the family picked up steam when Malia - at age 10 - began watching cooking shows with the same intensity of an Olympic athlete in training. Her attention to detail is unparalleled when watching "Chopped," "Master Chef," or any other Food Network show she could tape without me noticing. In only one year, Malia's vocabulary to describe dishes on the show was quite impressive.
"Mommy," she would note excitedly, "the presentation's a bit off but so long as his flavour profile is still there," OR "That dish was too spicy, it didn't have anything sweet to balance the taste," or my favourite high pitched shriek "JUST GET IT ON THE PLATE!"



I smiled with inner delight, it was evident to me that it was just a matter of time before Malia would transfer her passion for her cooking shows to...well, actually COOKING!! I have been very patient but it has been almost two years, and she still enjoys eating cereal for dinner if she is allowed. The fact that Malia still wants her Dad to pour her milk and cut her cheese slices should perhaps be alarming but I am optimistic that one day, there will be magic happening in the kitchen. At least, Malia certainly suits the old-fashioned Prairie look so the wardrobe aspect is taken care of.

I say we meet again two years from today and hopefully, I will be one step closer to the Thanksgiving dinner of my dreams. However, the one thing I have in spades is Autumn blessings with a wonderful family, two new little weiner dogs (to make a total of four dogs),
 and friends that I have recently reconnected with.



Life is good and I am thankful, extremely THANKFUL! 







Besides, even if Christian and Malia never pull off a spectacular Thanksgiving dinner, I will always have the BEST DINNER MUSIC EVER thanks to my Beethoven Boy and his sister!

HAPPY THANKSGIVING!!

The RACHMANINOFF DILEMMA!!

This will be one of my many posts that will touch upon my son's great love for the composer Rachmaninoff. The video posted above is from a couple years ago when my son, Christian (11)and daughter, Malia (age7) made up a little skit with "Mom's" help to submit to "The Ellen" show. A producer from the Ellen show had already called to speak to the kids about a possible appearance and they were asked to submit a couple more private videos at that point. They had great feedback from the producers but the show was overbooked at the time and we have simply not pursued it. However, we will leave the door open and in the meantime, enjoy this video.

When Christian began private music classes with the renowned Peter Turner, he had a specific goal in his five year old mind that he simply must play the music of Rachmaninoff one day. In the interview with Mr. Turner before lessons officially started, my little boy (all 30 pounds of him) asked most politely and solemnly to the very proper English gentleman as they shook hands hello," Mr. Turner, can you play Rachmaninoff." Without missing a beat, the 86 year old professor seriously answered him, "Christian, my old fingers can't play his music anymore but I can teach Rachmaninoff." Christian grinned and Mr. Turner smiled in return and thus it began.

Well, that short memorable exchange shaped the next few years of Christian's life. Every week, we would arrive midday to the teacher's quaint, immaculate home and Christian would have a glorious lesson on a beautiful Yamaha grand piano. I was given a chair in the teaching room so I might sit and take notes so Mr. Turner could move about the room.  Besides Christian, who learned to read music before his English, could benefit at home if I knew what he was supposed to work on. A distinguished teacher myself, I found myself in awe watching the master at work. Parenting a gifted musical prodigy was extremely daunting and righting the "RIGHT TEACHER" was essential.

"I don't suppose," Mr. Turner would say with a touch of a sigh "that YOU, Christian could play that Sonatina a little quicker just so it dances?" and  would then frown for effect as he continued "BUT, it would be difficult to keep those sixteenths tidy."
Christian would respond immediately taking the dare and playing a delightfully faster, yet tidy version of the piece. Other times, Mr. Turner (who had grown up singing in various choirs) would sing the piece, making up words that fit the rhythm...nonsense really. but then Christian would copy the graceful lilt and Mr. Turner would clap his hands with joy. Each piano lesson would start and end with a hug and I felt at peace knowing Christian's great musical talent was being shaped and nurtured with love. In fact, after only four months together, Christian wrote his grade 2 RCM exam (at age five) and received the second highest mark (94) in Canada for that year.

THIS was one parenting decision that definitely came out right and not just because of the incredible mark but more importantly, because of the incredible joy!!





I could write pages on this extraordinary relationship but I am going to concentrate on their mutual goal today and that was eventually having fingers long enough, trained enough, musical enough to play the great Rachmaninoff. Christian would examine his fingers daily and sigh dramatically about his small fingers and despaired that they may never grow.

So, this concern and worry over his hands continued as Christian grew older but one story remains clearly etched in my mind and it will be the one I share with you today. Christian was about eight years old and was playing pieces at this point that were grade seven/eight level. I was in the kitchen when I heard him start to cry in the other room during the middle of his practice. Christian, always my little "Beethoven," walked in the kitchen and didn't bother to wipe away the tears that was streaming down his face.

"Mommy, HOW COULD YOU?!!!" he asked obviously upset through his tears.

"How could I what?" I responded quietly, perplexed by Christian's question.

"HOW COULD YOU MARRY DADDY KNOWING HIS HANDS WERE SO SMALL AND HIS FINGERS WERE FAT? WHY DID YOU MARRY HIM?"

I tried, I truly tried to contain the laughter that roared through my belly because this small boy standing before me with his tear stained face was sincerely upset and quite furious.

"But honey," as I tried to hide my giggles, because I knew as a mother, it was MY JOB TO CONSOLE MY SON who was quite grumpy as he glared at me. However, it was soon apparent that no matter what attributes of his father I was trying to share with Christian, none mattered at the moment. He finally cut me off, his heart obviously broken....

"NOW" Christian said with great emphasis, "NOW, I'll NEVER BE ABLE TO PLAY RACHMANINOFF," and stormed off to his room in a new torrent of tears.

Sharing this story with my husband when he got home from work didn't exactly receive a belly laugh but more a reaction of shock and dismay.

"Well, I said carefully," Christian wasn't really thinking about you in general, just your hands specifically." I held my husband's hands up for inspection and couldn't help but gasp just a little bit.''

"Oh My, I said a bit concerned,"

My husband  almost spat the words out "My fingers ARE FAT and STUBBY and then added sadly, "AND SO ARE MY DADS."
"YIKES," I tried to hide my true emotions because I had never examined his hands this closely and frankly was nervous that Christian would be right and his fingers would never be long enough to play Rachmaninoff.

It was an awkward moment and I felt sad for my husband both because we had hurt his feelings and also that he had been born with small hands.

"Well," I spoke cautiously. "WE can hope that Christian's hands will grow bigger than yours."

"Yes," said my now grumpy husband, "He is only eight after all, surely his hands will still grow."


AND THEY HAVE!! CHRISTIAN, at age 13, has beautiful long tapered fingers, BIG HANDS and he can play RACHMANINOFF. It is beautiful, glorious and when I hear Christian play music from this composer, I feel as though I have glimpsed the beauty of heaven.



Hopefully, you can hear this 15 second link....of course, it is Rachmaninoff.

Parenting a gifted boy certainly came with a list of challenges and this particular demand, being completely out of my control, could only be determined in time. But thankfully, God had a plan to bless Christian with exquisite piano fingers that could handle any Rachmaninoff piece imaginable. With young "Beethoven's" temperament, it was indeed the right decision!

Pictures of MY "Beethoven," Boy visiting Salzburg, Austria at age 11

My Beethoven Boy visiting Salzburg and Vienna, Austria at age 11- his dreams had come true! As a parent, it is always a wish to be able to fulfill a dream for your child. Perhaps, running around Salzburg screaming "I love it here, it feels like home," and seeing your boy break the rule and reverently caress Mozart's piano behind the ropes is not what you would expect your child to want more than anything. But recognizing that for Christian, this experience would touch his heart and soul forever made this dream a joy to fulfill!



Christian standing in our hotel room in Salzburg

Christian with a coveted Mozart chocolate

Christian playing chess at a restaurant in Salzburg