Today, I’d Like to Thank my Mom…

...for introducing her daughters to classical music. I did some radio surfing this morning and nearly teared up at hearing a favorite piece, Pachabel’s Cannon in G. WOW! Pieces like that move me. They stir my soul. There is beauty there...a real beauty.

We grew up in a house where music was appreciated. Of course, it had to be the RIGHT KIND of music. No Elvis or Beatles! No Madonna or Prince in our home! But Bach, Mozart, Chopin, Tchaikovsky, and Beethoven among others were the popular choices instead. My sister and I would blare the classical pieces on Friday nights as we did our household chores. [WAIT! Is it possible to "blare" classical music?] We’d twirl like ballerinas on the living room carpet, or we’d glide like ice skaters across the kitchen floor as we listened to our Grandpa’s old 45 records. My sister would also “play” the pieces on the old floor radiator in our living room.

Eventually, we both took piano lessons. She excelled at it. I didn’t. I would “attempt” to play the piano. I would try. Really, I did. No one could accuse me of not trying. I would spend countless hours practicing my pieces (and torturing my perfect ear and perfect pitch sister) as I struggled with the rhythm and notes of pieces like Moonlight Sonata.

As a teenager, I tired of classical pieces. It wasn’t cool to listen to that kind of music. I wanted to be like everyone else. Secretly, my sister and I together with our friend Lisa spent hours listening to the New Kids on the Block and Richard Marx.

In college, once again I was relatively sheltered from modern music. There were classical art series, operas, plays and Sunday vespers to attend. And the music in the dorms had to be a certain standard, too. So, I introduced my roommates to some of the classics, and together we’d sing along to a Broadway musical or two. Sunday mornings were for The Sound of Music and white glove cleaning was definitely easier with The Fiddler on the Roof.

Two college summers spent at Camp Spearhead in South Carolina and this girl went country. I was hooked on George Strait and Martina McBride as well as the bluegrass stylings of Alison Krauss and Union Station. It was good stuff. I gradually moved on to some soft rock--Elton John, Enya and Sarah McGlachlan just to name a few.

When I moved to Indy, my tastes in music seemed to change again. I hit the rock scene. I started out listening to Madonna. And somewhere along the way, my tastes grew darker. Nickelback, Evanescence and Blue October are current favorites.

Today, I still enjoy Gavin DeGraw and James Blunt while driving in my car. On other days, nothing makes me smile like a good country song. While cleaning or organizing in my apartment, I usually need a good Broadway musical playing or Sarah Brightman singing in my head. And yet, I thrill at the excitement I experience when I attend a classical concert or I still get tingles when I hear Pachabel on the radio on the way to work.

I may marvel at the lyrics of a Train song or be struck at the honesty of Cold Play, but I love the beauty and harmony of a classical piece. I may appreciate lots of other music, but nothing gets to my core like the classical stylings of Beethoven or the stirring renditions of a Mozart violin concerto. It’s truly wonderful stuff!

Thanks, Mom! I may not have always appreciated it like I do now, but today finds me grateful...