Sir Edward Elgar, My Dad, and Me

Last Saturday evening I got to perform Edward Elgar's symphonic work, Enigma Variations, for only the second time in my life. It's a lovely piece introduced by a short theme, followed by 14 musical variations, all based upon family members or close friends of Elgar's. Each variation, save one, has initials or a name to identify its human inspiration. My favorite variation has to be the one entitled "Nimrod," and Saturday I played it with tears trickling down my face.

When I was in 6th grade, my elementary school music teacher had me start working on the slow movement of Mozart's Third Horn Concerto. My father, also a music teacher, believed that I couldn't properly play such a piece because I was too young to understand its deep meaning, and requested that I not play it yet.

I don't know what my dad thought about me playing the Elgar piece when I was only fifteen, but I fell in love with it then, and I love it still. Perhaps I was too young to give the very emotional "Nimrod" variation its full due. But I think back to what I had experienced in my life at that time. Even at the tender age of fifteen, I had experienced several significant events of both sadness and joy. Thirty-six years later, I have certainly lived many more joys and disappointments, enabling me to play the variation with more pathos, but the music is so beautiful and universal, I think it can be appreciated by people of all ages.

Why was I crying? I cried because the last time I played the piece, my dad sat in on both the rehearsals and the final performance. This time, my dad is gone and I don't know where he's spending eternity. I cried because I didn't get to call him and tell him how good the concert was. I cried because this time I played the Elgar, my daughter was in the concert hall, and I want so very much to be a good mother to her and our son. I cried because the piece was so beautiful. The fact that good composers can dream up such beauty and commit it to paper for others to play for years after they are gone is truly a miracle.

Thank you, Lord, for imperfect parents, for great composers, and for ears and hearts to experience beautiful music.