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 at this link: https://www.caringbridge.org/visit/carterviss/journal]

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 appropriate.

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 shore 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. 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.

What came of my time at Carter’s keyboard are musical snapshots of Carter and his friend Andy’s anticipation of a fine day of snorkeling at the reef, the intrigue of the sea creatures beneath the surface, a swirling time of bewilderment, rushing waves, courageous determination and aching hearts with a touch of hope in the final measures.

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.

The mysterious and powerful pull of music continues to baffle and comfort. 

You’ll see I’m sporting a hat and t-shirt from Loggerhead Marinelife Center. It’s in “honor” of my typical attire for a day at the hospital.