Birthday Presents (I)

I am sixty now. I think I can get discounts.

My Wicked Stepmother, who is only six months younger than I am, sent me a quite good mystery novel and a CD of piano music; a unremarkable present, except that the pianist was her late mother. In this digital age, your mom can make a compact disc, and it is not a shabby thing.

Okay, some clinkers and flubs, not every note polished, but try 6:20 – 7:40.

I like this. I have thirty years to get to this place, if I take a shot at it; right now my piano work is rusty as a tomato can in a drainage ditch, but I do a nice wallop on some of my old opera scores if I drink some brandy first.

A stepgrandmother cooler than either of the original articles isn’t a bad birthday present.


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