Thank You, Mrs. Lutz

A young woman having a farewell dinner at a restaurant with her friends before heading off to a new life in London. A young man visiting from Chile who had his notions of America changed. The trombone player in my jazz band with his family. All three (and more) moved to tears from the simple act of some 50 people, from 2 years old to 80, Christmas caroling around the neighborhood. Alongside the other joyfully astonished people at Pasquale’s Pizza Place, Lavash Persian Restaurant and the local Tattoo Parlor grinning from ear to ear as we surprised them with our tuneful serenade. Likewise, the people we lured away from their TV’s to come to their windows or step out their doors, phones on video mode, to listen to the old holiday chestnuts and even sometimes sing along. A few even left their houses and joined us. 

 

It was the 41^st neighborhood Christmas caroling, an event my family started in 1982. Only six or so of the original participants still with us, but new blood carrying it for forth. Many of my daughter Talia’s 5^th grade class, some folks from the neighborhood pandemic singing gathering I started back you-know-when, people from my wife Karen’s bike group, alum students Karen and I had taught (some with their kids)and some folks I didn’t even know who were friends of friends or just had heard about it. One of the biggest groups we’ve had and also one of the most tuneful. Sunday night on Irving Street was so much less bustling than the night before, so the singers always outnumbered the folks sung to. But to give that young woman nervous about leaving for London a most memorable send-off, to change the Chilean man’s perception of our self-obsessed, narcissistic, non-community-based American culture— that was enough. Not to mention the feeling of over 50 people, many of whom didn’t know each other, feeling instantly connected through song, getting a rare chance to sing without going to a Karaoke bar and traveling through their personal emotional landscape as each song carried its own associations from their past— again, more than enough. To top it off, a way for kids of all ages to do something meaningful and fun alongside adults. Truly, it doesn’t get much better than that.

 

The grandkids have arrived (my own deep pleasure in sharing this all with them) and the house is again filled with their buzzing energy. The games are off the shelf, a new leaf on the table to fit our reunited family as daughters Kerala and Talia, my sister and husband Ginny and Jim, joined Zadie and Malik for a delicious dinner my wife Karen had prepared. As she does, Talia suggested a moment where each shared something they were grateful for before we began the meal. In the light of the past few weeks, I chose to thank Mrs. Lutz, my childhood piano (and organ) teacher. 

 

So let me speak directly to her here. 

 

“Mrs. Lutz, neither you nor I could ever have imagined where my piano and organ lessons with you would lead. To a lifetime of personal refreshment with Mr. Bach and Beethoven and Brubeck and beyond, all of whom you introduced me to and have remained my lifelong friends. Joined with all the years of teaching kids and adding some basic guitar, you helped give me the tools to lead groups of people to joyful communion, be it in school classes, old age homes, neighborhood sings, family gatherings, weddings and funerals—wherever people might gather and need a song.

 

May I confess that as a kid, the highlight of my lesson was grabbing some candy from the bowl you kept in your waiting room, something forbidden in my home. Sometimes I would dig into my pocket during the lesson and pretend to cough as I slipped a piece in my mouth. Naturally, I never fooled you. You once told me that a little birdie reported that I practiced a lot that week and for a while, I would open the front door when I practiced hoping the bird would hear me and report back. I quit my lessons with you in 8^th grade, but went on to play the pipe organ in my high school and butcher Beethoven on my piano at home, listening to Horowitz and then thinking I could go right to his tempo and technique without actually taking the time to practice the details. I missed your guidance there.

 

You might be interested to know that I’m still impatient with mastering the details and far prefer to just play through getting a feel for the piece. But in my ripening old age, I’m getting a bit better at playing things slower before getting to the correct tempo and even occasionally stop to work out the fingering to a tricky passage. And may I also let you know that I appreciate now the Jerome Kern and Rodgers and Hammerstein songs you helped me learn alongside the classical warhorses. That has certainly born fruit as I’ve delved deeply into the Great American Songbook. And though you never taught me the blues, you did introduce me to Dave Brubeck that last year with you, with the little blues section in Blue Rondo a La Turk.

 

So Mrs. Lutz, thank you for it all. It all paid off and then some. Perhaps you are now the little birdie listening outside my window as I play. I’ll open it up so you can hear better."