I looked down and saw a silver CD boxed set, encrusted with grease and dust, as only a boxed set taken in and left on the floor near the kitchen would be. Yo Yo Ma. 3 cds. OIne of tango music , I don’t like tango very much, one of greatest hits which was a little too Boston pops for me. And now this one, Yo Yo Ma plays Morricone. I thought I would hear soundtracks to Westerns. Instead, I’m listening to strings floating in a warm and lusty way that only instruments with rosin can. Layers of strings, like clouds rolling in at the seaside. Cello like the wind, whispering a tale to you, whispering the true story.
When my son was younger, I played WQXR, the classical radio station, in the evenings, making dinner, having homework wars.
When I was younger Mother took us to see the Nutcracker at Ford Auditorium. She loved classical music and it was important to her that we love it too. I can feel the plush seats, the blue darkness, our wonder as the curtain rose.
Mother in a photo on my music stand, in the red jacket she wore as a hospital volunteer. I love red, she always said. It’s a power color.