I prefer silence in the car when I am driving alone. It’s just more peaceful that way. The other day, my car hit a bump in the road and suddenly, I heard classical music on Hawaii Public Radio.
The music was so familiar, it was driving me crazy because I couldn’t identify it immediately. I went through the process of elimination.
Not Russian music so not Tchaikovsky.
Not German so not Beethoven, Brahms, or Wagner.
Had to be Dvorak. Yes, that must be it. The Symphony No. 8 in G Major.
And what do you know, that’s what it was! I was so pleased with myself, because even though it had been many years since I’d listened to HPR, I was still able to identify a piece of music.
When I lived in New York City, I attended concerts at Lincoln Center every week. That cost a lot of money, and I found myself living from paycheck to paycheck. No joke!
But, the concert artist I loved the most was Mstislav Rostropovich, the famous Russian cellist. I thought he had the most erotic looking face in the world – with an erotic tone on the cello to match.
I remember listening to his recordings every night and dreaming about him. I was so sad when I read he’d died. A legend of his time.