True Happiness

I had a reunion last night with two pianists who studied with my late teacher, Aube Tzerko, some 35 years ago in Los Angeles. Aube wasn't famous, but he is revered by the many pianists who studied with him in his master classes at Aspen and privately in Los Angeles.

I and my guests still love and remember. For us, music is a necessary as breathing. We do it because we need to do it. Aube disliked performing, but he was unsurpassed at breathing music and fire into students.

He was a second father to me, a spiritual anchor in the confusion of the Seventies and on through the present.

My guests played Chopin late into the night. Julie Jordan, who's teaching at Juilliard's evening division, played a nocturne beautifully. Rodney played ballades and nocturnes and waltzes, and took the bass part of the Slavonic Dances with me at the treble in Dvorak's original four-hand arrangement.

Rodney recalled his last lesson with Aube in 1995, the year he died. Rodney was preparing for a concert in Mexico. The session lasted four hours. He recalled Aube putting his hand on the pages of Chopin's Scherzo No. 2, playing the questioning figure and whispering: "Is anybody there?"

The difficulties and frustrations of getting along in the world faded as we reminsced and played. Tonight, I chose a ballade and practiced for the first time in weeks, with Aube a spirit at my shoulder.