Tickling the ivories

As promised in my last posting, I won't describe my own performance at today's piano recital. Except to say that I was able to complete my piece without collapsing or requiring resuscitation.

But the recital experience itself -- my first since I was maybe 12 or 13 -- is worth a brief mention.

Ten pianists besides myself performed. They ranged in age from an unbelievably tiny young man of perhaps three, up to a boy and girl who appeared to be in their early teens. Eight of the performers were of Asian background. I mention this as but one more piece of evidence -- in one more area of life -- that Asian-American kids are positioning themselves to outshine their peers from other ethnic groups in tomorrow's America.

In the audience, besides those of us waiting to perform (or slowly reviving from our completed performance), were parents, siblings, and other proud relatives; our piano teacher herself; and an administrator from the music school who was taking photos of each cute child (and me, I presume) at the piano. In other words, it was a small audience, and not at all intimidating -- parents were all holding their breath through their own offspring's playing, and responding with appreciative applause to the performances of others.

The music ranged from Skateboard Doodle by a little tyke who obviously wished he were elsewhere, to rather sophisticated pieces by Mozart and Shostakovich by the two teenagers. I enjoyed it all: the serious efforts by the smallest kids, the stumblings by a boy about 12 who obviously hadn't practiced and was playing under protest, and the accomplished playing of familiar classical or semi-classical pieces (some in simplified arrangements) by the older half of the cast.

Here we were, two weeks before Christmas, with feverish shopping to be done. NFL games were on TV. It was a cold night, and the church in which the recital took place was also cold. But a little gathering of young people and their moms and dads made room in their lives to celebrate modest musical accomplishments. In a world of electronics and rock and roll and obsession with professional sports, parents implicitly acknowledged that the best gift and best educational experience they could give their kids was to willingly attend, listen to their children and others play, and show appreciation for their efforts by applause and hugs.

For a short time, playing the piano -- an ancient form of mastery that served as a goal for generations of kids before computer games came along -- was the most important fact in the universe.

It was nice.