All in the Family

When people find out that my siblings and I are all professional musicians (yes, all 3 of us majored in piano), they usually exclaim – Wow! What was that like, growing up?

Our second childhood piano (the first was, of course, a Heintzman)

For us, it was…normal. Which maybe explains a lot. You see, normal sounded to us like music-making from after school until 10pm, with a break for dinner. At least, on the days we weren’t at choir practice. Or stage band. Or orchestra rehearsals. It seemed normal to us I guess, in part, because we lived out in the countryside, and kind of assumed that all our school friends had the same practice routines as we did.

In order for all the practicing to work, there were some key rules in place. For example, there was a rule that we had to practice every day. But there was no rule on how long that practice time needed to be – it was just “until you are done”.

For my parents’ sanity, there was another rule: no practicing after 10pm. Because they were both at work when we got off the school bus, it was up to us navigate who would practice first after school (Jocelyn) and who would eat ice cream and watch Danger Mouse, or Greatest American Hero (Byron and me), and how we’d fit in all of our practice time by the 10pm curfew.

Then there was the rule about not playing each others’ pieces. I found this rule terribly annoying at the start, since, being the youngest, it meant that all the cool pieces I’d heard my brother and sister practicing were now off limits. CPE Bach’s Solfeggio in c minor? Taken. Robert Starer’s Crimson from Sketches in Color? Taken! Brahms Intermezzo opus 118 no 2? Definitely taken. Definitely off limits.

I’m pretty sure it was my sister who had played this Intermezzo first. It’s very likely that when she moved out, she couldn’t find the score to bring with her, and that by some powerful coincidence, it turned up in my pile of books. I am most sure of all that it was mere days between when she moved out of the country to begin her university studies in music that I began my illicit love affair with this gorgeous piece.

A live, home recording of me playing the coveted Brahms Intermezzo on my new piano.

Very recently, one of my students brought this exact piece to their piano lesson. Within days, I was driving out to Long and McQuade to purchase my own copy of the score.

…Yeah, that score I scammed 30 years ago? Pretty sure it’s now in my brother’s possession, though I’m not entirely clear how. It’s okay though, because I’ve now got these, which were definitely his:

When I got home with my newly purchased music, I immediately went to the piano, and started to play.  The piece was just as beautiful, just as irresistible, as I remembered it to be. And I still had the unmistakable feeling that I was stealing this music all over again, only this time from my student instead of my sister.

In the coming weeks, the intermezzo would call to me, interrupting me from whatever I was doing, to play it into being. It’s hard to explain this feeling of music “calling you to play it into being”. As an artist of an ephemeral art form, there are moments of profound realization that if someone isn’t playing a particular work of music in that very moment – either playing it themselves or playing a recording pf it – that the piece of music actually doesn’t exist. It’s a lot of responsibility!

A few of the music books and CDs in my bookcase

For the next little while, I’d hear the call daily, and I’d stop whatever I was doing – brushing my teeth, reading a book, washing the dishes (very convenient, my husband would say) in a rush to hear its beauty again and again.

The connection between my new piano and this old piece? I’m not quite sure. Did the previous owner of my new piano love to play this intermezzo, too? Or was it simply that it finally sounded good again, now that I had this new instrument? (Sorry Bernadette – that’s the name of my old piano – but you know in your heart this was the real reason we parted ways. We’d gone as far as we could making music together.)

Maybe the reason this piece started calling to me has something to do with the new after school juggling routine, now that both my kids are playing the piano and there are three of us sharing it. History is repeating itself and I’m no longer the only piano player in the household. It does feel pretty reminiscent of my childhood routine: we definitely have that rule about not playing each other’s pieces, and we have to sort out who is going to practice first and when we will eat the ice cream. Maybe this piece is a connection to that past, and maybe that’s why it calls me to play it. To remind of those times. And to remind me of my hopes around music-making for my own kids.

Or maybe? Maybe it’s just too beautiful to remain un-played between the covers of a book.

The newest family piano

 PS: One of the joys of having this new-to-me instrument is definitely sharing it with my kids. It’s extra special to me that this piano chose to reveal her name to them even before she revealed it to me. My next blog post will tell all! If you just can’t wait, and you need to know now, sign up for my newsletter here:

 And I’ll send you the inside scoop! Otherwise, don’t be a Bernadette: Stay tuned!