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Moonlight Sonata

I’ve written before about my father Arthur.  (See My Dad,  Around the World in 80 Days, Fluffy, or How I Got My Dog  and The Corpse in the Office)

By profession Arthur was a family physician who when asked his medical specialty once quipped,  “I treat the skin and its contents.”

But by avocation my dad was also a memoirist,  an artist,  and a self-taught classical pianist,  and I best remember him sitting at the baby grand in our living room.

He never had a lesson and didn’t read music very well,  yet he played beautifully,  often along with an LP from the series Symphony Minus One,  pieces performed by all the orchestra minus the piano.  Although sheet music was included,  he hardly used it rather playing his part by ear.  He revered Chopin and especially Beethoven,  and he played Beethoven’s exquisite piano sonatas with great feeling – the Appassionata,  the Pathetique,  and the Moonlight Sonata.

When my dad died in his 80s my mother mourned him terribly,  and although I never remember her being sick,  she developed a heart condition and survived him by only two years.  In her last days,  after an unsuccessful surgery,  she was comatose.

Seeing my despair a nurse explained that unresponsive patients often hear and understand more than we realize,  and she suggested we bring music to play for my mother.  So we brought a cassette player to her hospital room and played a tape of the Moonlight Sonata.

Although her eyes never opened,  she smiled,  and I’m sure in her mind’s eye she saw my father sitting at the baby grand.

– Dana Susan Lehrman

 

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