The Fredösphere

How appropriate that the first image out of my new scanner was a portrait of J. S. Bach.  The father of modern music!

It was my first piano teacher that turned me into a musician, a woman who also happened to be my mother.  She probably doesn't realize it, but one used book she picked up at at library sale somewhere provided the starting point for all my musical efforts, such as they have been.  The book was titled A Child's Book of Famous Composers, and it contained brief biographies of about a dozen composers.  Only the very greatest musical geniuses made the cut:  J. S. Bach, Ludwig van Beethoven, Stephen Foster, you know, guys like that.

The Three Bs:  Bach, Beethoven and, uh, Bfoster.

Each composer got his own chapter, with a full-page portrait and a unique tag line that encapsulated his place in music history.  Mozart was "The Wonder Child."  J. S. Bach was "The Father of Modern Music," which to my mature judgment seems remarkably off-mark.  Bach's influence was subtle and slow to develop, and stylistically he was retrograde, so he never had a Rite of Spring moment and never formed the vanguard of any movement, which is what "father of" seems to imply.  Oh well, I'm paying way too much attention to an obscure, unimportant kid's book that went out of print decades ago.

Except it is not unimportant to me, because as soon as I read that book, the mantle of my destiny settled upon my shoulders:  I knew it was my life's mission to make future editions of that book include a chapter about me.  For a moment, let's overlook that I don't have a chance of making the cut.  Let's overlook the problems we cause when we label a handful of composers as "great" and forget the rest.  Let's especially overlook that this obscure book never had a snowball's chance in Albuquerque of getting a second edition.  The main thing is that I received a life mission that day, all those years ago.  Because of it, sometimes I have made foolish choices and dreamed foolish dreams, but for the most part it has been a blessing, a charism.  Thanks, God.  Thanks, mom.

Labels: Composer