My mother was taught piano by a fierce and wonderful, little old Jewish woman named Gertrude Bloch. Gert Bloch learned piano from Arthur Lipsky, who was taught by Leonid Kreutzer. The good man Leonid learned the keys from Leschitizky, who had the great pleasure of being instructed by Czerny. Czerny was a pupil of none other than Ludwig van Beethoven. Counting out those pianists leaves my mother only five generations removed from Beethoven himself. Incredible, and in a good way. Incredible in a bad way is that none of her children play the piano.
However, this story can end happily and there is still time to remedy the vast oversight I've made. In the mean time, Sawyer is showing interest in a broad range of instruments and I'm seriously debating when he should began learning one in earnest. I think we'll begin with the piano, but for now, he'll bang the drums, toot his horn, and bow his homemade "violin."
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