Yesterday Larry and I were video chatting with our little Nora (and her ‘rents); since conversations with ten month olds are rather one-sided, we sang “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star” to her, something we did when we were with her in person. She beamed delightedly as we eagerly made fools of ourselves. Ever the teacher, Larry quizzed the ‘rents if they knew the origin of the song. Thank goodness for google!

The words of this nursery rhyme are based on a poem written in 1806 by the English poet, Jane Taylor. In 1838, “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star” was set to a piece of music which was scripted by Mozart, nearly six decades earlier. In his mid-twenties while living in France, Mozart was exposed to a French children’s folk melody called “Ah vous dirai-je, Maman.” From this song, he composed a set of theme-and-variations for the piano. His work is called “Twelve variations on "Ah vous dirai-je, Maman.” Fascinating to hear of its regal roots. All this time we thought a lowly wet nurse hummed out the childish melody whilst rocking a restless little one to sleep!

We bought a piano when our kids were preschool age, a nod to how profoundly we valued the effect of learning music on a developing mind. Starting at age seven, all three kids took piano lessons from the wonderful Janet Sump, an instructor at our local Cadek Conservatory of Music, housed at that time at The University of Tennessee Chattanooga. Our rule was, lessons through fifth grade and then you have the choice to continue or not. To varying degrees, they enjoyed learning to play and now have a good foundation, but by middle school, they had all moved on to other interests.

Several years after the last child was finished with piano lessons, I heard their fifty year old father make a phone call to Ms. Sump: “Would you be willing to take me on as a student? I’ve always wanted to learn piano but never had the opportunity as a child. I promise, unlike my children, I will practice every day.” And so Ms. Sump taught a fourth Schlabach how to tickle the ivories. He was by far the most enthusiastic of the quartet. Perhaps there is something to be said for unrequited childhood dreams.

Piano playing has become his solace and calms his soul after a long day of oncology. On weekends he plays for hours. It is most impressive that someone could begin at that age and learn to play classical pieces. He is really good! And he is nothing if not diligent. He was also so grateful to Ms. Sump for teaching him that he had a difficult time telling her that he would rather not participate in the twice-a-year recitals that she held for her students. For several years on recital evening, there would be about a dozen kids, aged kindergarten through high school, and Dr. Schlabach.

What a good sport! Yes, the kids and I secretly snickered at him. Larry can pull a medical lecture out of his hat and without any nervousness, can wax eloquent about the advances of immunotherapy in treatment, or the implications of certain risk factors in a specific cancer. He is unfazed lecturing to a room full of docs, but do not put him on a stage with children at a piano recital! His most supportive, proud family had a hard time keeping straight faces whenever he made his way to the grand piano in the Cadek recital hall. One year in the December recital, Ms. Sump arranged to accompany him on another piano; a duet of a Christmas carol and the captive audience would be joining in song. Halfway through “Dreaming of a White Christmas,” Larry lost his place on the keys. As a non-player, I would think that this is your worst nightmare coming true. He fumbled and stumbled. Ms. Sump mouthed to him, “just keep going.” As a polite gesture, I later erased the video.

About five years into his piano lessons, Larry sat down on the bench at 3:00 pm one Thursday afternoon and warmed up with his scales and arpeggios. Ms. Sump announced what piece they would be working on next: “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.” Seriously?! He glanced sideways at her. She wasn’t the joking type. A children’s nursery rhyme? And that is when he discovered the origin of this simple melody. He learned to play Mozart’s “Twelve variations on Ah vous dirai-je, Maman.” We listened to the piece this morning, in honor of Mozart’s 265th birthday, a few days ago. Larry said that the eleventh variation is his favorite, but buckle your seatbelt for the twelfth one! Just imagine the musical stories her Papa will tell little Nora someday.