There’s something mighty strange going on with the card you see pictured here. It’s a birthday card I got awhile back (I’m guessing February of 2008) from my former voice student/ now friend Trevor Parker. You open it up and it plays The Ride of the Valkyries from Wagner’s “Die Walkure.” If that doesn’t say Happy Birthday, I don’t know what does! Anyway, I’ve had it sitting on the grand piano in my studio at home alongside other nice cards I’ve gotten over the years from Trevor and other students.
Anyway, this card has been sitting there with the others, minding its own business and behaving very nicely – but about a week ago something very strange and almost creepy began occurring. I would be sitting in the studio, playing the piano, when suddenly the card would begin spontaneously playing the Wagner- without being opened. It reminded me for all the world of an episode of the “The Twilight Zone” guest starring Telly Savalas, who played an ill-tempered and semi-abusive father who is horrified when his daughter’s talking doll begins quietly saying things to him like “I’m Kitty Carry- All and I Don’t Like You.” He goes into an escalating rage and does everything he can to silence the doll – finally putting it in a garbage can in the garage, and then piling things up on top of its lid. . . but the doll somehow escapes and shows up back in the house, still spouting things that make Telly Savalas insanely angry – until he finally trips over the doll and falls down the stairs to his death.
Nothing quite that dramatic has occurred in this instance, but every time the card begins playing the Wagner, I find myself frantically clutching it in my hands and squeezing the little speaker unit until it finally shuts off- although usually it takes me maybe 7 or 8 tries before the card finally shuts off- and even then, it sometimes starts right up again. (For awhile I was trying to just pile heavy books on top of it, in the mistaken belief that this would be the exact physical opposite of opening the card- which is what is supposed to activate it. But that proved to be completely ineffective, and now all I do is squeeze it every which way until I bumble upon something which finally silences it.) I probably look a bit foolish, and most people would say that I’m seriously overreacting. And yet, I can’t quite help myself- because if I don’t stop it from playing it is likely to just keep playing until its tiny battery exhausts itself and it goes forever silent. And I don’t want that to happen, and it’s got nothing to do with Wagner Ride of the Valkyries. (Lord knows I have a whole shelf of recordings of that music in splendid stereo – recordings that sound 20 times better than the tinny little sound that emanates from this card.) It’s because this card is such a lovely token of a special friendship that I cherish … and its soundtrack – tinny though it may be – is part of what makes me smile.
This is one of about a dozen special cards that I have received over the course of 18 years teaching at Carthage – cards that said something besides “thanks for playing for my recital.” One thing that always intrigues me is how some of these cards come from students with whom I’ve grown quite close and consider in many ways to be friends – so these would be cards that are tremendously gratifying to receive, but maybe not particularly surprising. But then a card will come from a student with whom I haven’t felt particularly close but who appreciated what I did for them enough to sit down and write me a note of thanks. My favorite of the latter type is a short letter I received from a young woman who was never my voice student but for whom I played piano for jury exams. Just before her graduation back in 2008 she sent me a truly lovely, moving letter thanking me not only for that – but also expressing her appreciation for the contribution I made to the Carthage Choir as their accompanist. She is a sweet young woman but never in a million years did I expect this sort of written expression of gratitude from her- which of course made it all the more delightful. Of course, for every pleasant surprise like this one there are the frequent instances in which I pour everything I possibly can into a student of great promise. . . going above and beyond the call of duty . . . only to have them essentially walk away without so much as a postcard.
Of course, it’s only fair to admit – in the interest of full disclosure – that it took me a quarter of a century before I got around to writing a whole-hearted thank you note to Cherie Carl, my first private voice teacher who set amazing things in motion to me and without whose help I would not be who I am nor where I am. I still owe such a letter to my superb voice teacher at Luther, David Greedy – and I’m sad to say that my graduate school teacher, Richard Grace, passed away before I could ever properly express my thanks to him. So the last thing I have any right to do is pass judgment on anyone else when it comes to this matter. And it’s for that very reason that those cards on my piano fill me with a queasy mix of both pleasure and regret. . . and leave me profoundly humbled that I have been blessed with more than a few students who took the time to say Thank You – the best words a teacher can possibly hear from a student.
pictured: the card that keeps playing Ride of the Valkyries without being opened. By the way, I received the same card from another Carthage student named Jennifer, and that one is behaving fine and in fact is hanging on my office door at Carthage.