John Bidwell, a spirited short story writer and poet, shared more than a literary connection with me. He waxed poetic about his late mother and father, Eleanor and David, who were pianists and 1950’s classmates at Oberlin. (my alma mater)
A Reunion photo taken in front of the music Conservatory:
Yet despite the sender’s excitement about contacting another “pianist” who attended the Midwest school, he voiced “regrets about not being into his parent’s kind of music while they were living.”
A gush of e-mails followed. One compared my playing to Eleanor’s. (HUBBARD, maiden name)
“It is beyond endearing, because you have the same spark of life that my mom had.” He added a “smile” to his flattery.
Had John implied that I channeled his late mother’s spirit through my You Tube postings? Or was I more…
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