NEW piano solo: a mother’s musical memoir
It’s important that you know the backstory behind the title of this piano solo.
Every morning when we entered the St Mary’s hospital, my husband and I handed over our driver’s license to the receptionist. She checked us in and printed a sticker for us to wear before we entered the hospital hallways so that we could visit our son, Carter. This was our norm for 68 days because Carter was struck by a boat while snorkeling at the Breakers Reef in West Palm Beach, Florida on Thanksgiving day, 2019.
[To learn more about Carter’s recovery, please visit his Caring Bridge site here.]
As the accident was widely publicized, we choose to protect his privacy during his hospital stay by requiring a password for all visitors. So every time we arrived, the receptionist would dutifully ask us to say the password: ANGEL 94. It stems from two things that remind us of Carter—an angel fish, which is Carter’s favorite fish, and the year he was born, 1994. It’s almost impossible to select a title for a piano solo that reflects the emotions and memories surrounding a life-changing event such as this. Angel 94 seemed to be the only thing that came to mind.
The motives and patterns of the composition erupted from the time spent driving back and forth to the hospital listening to the radio, running along the coastline to my Spotify playlist and spending nights in Carter’s one-bedroom condo. For weeks, his bachelor pad became our home away from home in Colorado.
Carter had purchased a Casio Privia digital piano not long before the accident—which severely injured his limbs and took most of his right arm. At first during our stay at his cozy and slightly sandy condo, I could not tolerate any music at all and avoided—could hardly look at—his new keyboard standing close to his dining room table. Finally, when I could no longer resist the power of its presence, I began to improvise and explore ideas on the piano.
Frankly, I’m stunned that the patterns that came to me do not reflect a mother’s tears or broken heart. Perhaps that will come in time? Instead, the ideas evolved into musical snapshots of Carter and his friend Andy’s Thanksgiving Day snorkeling escapade.
You hear their anticipation of a fine day of snorkeling at the reef, the intrigue of the sea creatures beneath the surface, a swirling time of bewilderment, the panicked splashing, rushing waves, courageous determination and aching hearts with…a touch of hope in the final measures. I’ll save the details about how Carter was rescued for another time. I’ll mention here that Andy was key to Carter’s 8-minute rescue from the ocean to the ambulance and for Carter’s survival. Our family has gained a fourth son.
Longtime friend and colleague, Bradley Sowash, shared this phrase with me from Carrie Fisher:
Take your broken heart, make it art.
It seems that’s what I did in Angel 94. The piece surprises me with it’s energy, resilience and courage—things I haven’t felt since the accident but definitely things I, and so many others, have seen in Carter and Andy, too.
If you’ve kept up with my posts, I’ve been writing more about grief than piano teaching lately. Grief used to strangle me and now it’s playing tug-of-war with my mind. Thanks to the monumental support and prayers of SO many, our family is being tugged away from grief and lifted from the valley. And, the mysteriously baffling and powerful pull of music now comforts and is beginning to fill in the space where grief once lived.
Below is a video of me playing “Angel 94.” You may be wondering why I chose to wear a baseball cap, leggings, a pony tail and t-shirt from Loggerhead Marinelife Center along with my necklace that spells COURAGE in morse code? I planned to change before making the video but decided not to. This comfy combo or something close to it was my standard “uniform” for the 68 days we spent with Carter, with Angel 94, in the hospital.
I’d be honored if you’d play “Angel 94,” too.
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