We lived on the edge of a many thousand acre nature preserve.
Unspeakably idyllic.
After a storm one day, 5 year old (?) Start was in the woods, heard
a rustle in the leaves, and found a baby robin that had blown out
of its nest. Robbie. All the science known at the time apparently said
that a baby robin would die away from its mother. We did not find
the nest. A shoebox is what we found and I brought Robbie home, and
it thrived, and when we taught it to fly, it came when we called,
and we'd dig worms for Robbie for supper.
Almost everyone in this most affluent of towns I grew up in was,
hmmmmm, afraid of, or put off by my dad. He was dour, profoundly
intense, entirely reserved, zero small talk, entirely focused. Yet
he was a teacher's teacher, literally, and in addition to the affluent
students that paid handsomely for him to teach them piano,
teachers from around the country flocked to our home, with his studio
attached, to learn his teaching methods.
During his fall session, studio packed with teachers, alone working
with them, on a brief break he became aware of noise downstairs and
investigated. Robbie had flown down the chimney flue, entered the
furnace flue and was in the furnace. It had not yet ignited.
My dad was as smart, self reliant, clever as they come. I never asked
why there wasn't some other way, but if there were, he'd have
taken it. Now mind you, he worked from dawn till bed time, earning
money to please my mom's exorbitant tastes, and to provide what he
wanted us kids to have. And, he did this 7 days per week, 365 days per
year. Oh, we'd take a 1-4 week family vacation - but he felt we couldn't
afford for him to come, he'd stay, and teach, from dawn, till bedtime. I
recall only a few exceptions. Money, for us to have it, was real, real,
important to him - every penny.
He took an axe to the furnace, destroying it, frantically trying to save that
bird, that hadn't cost us a cent. Robbie. Must have taken him
weeks of work, or more, to pay for the replacement. He never gave it a
thought. The bird's Life is what he valued. Still makes me
weep. That's what his Love was, for the world, for us all.
Unspeakably idyllic.
After a storm one day, 5 year old (?) Start was in the woods, heard
a rustle in the leaves, and found a baby robin that had blown out
of its nest. Robbie. All the science known at the time apparently said
that a baby robin would die away from its mother. We did not find
the nest. A shoebox is what we found and I brought Robbie home, and
it thrived, and when we taught it to fly, it came when we called,
and we'd dig worms for Robbie for supper.
Almost everyone in this most affluent of towns I grew up in was,
hmmmmm, afraid of, or put off by my dad. He was dour, profoundly
intense, entirely reserved, zero small talk, entirely focused. Yet
he was a teacher's teacher, literally, and in addition to the affluent
students that paid handsomely for him to teach them piano,
teachers from around the country flocked to our home, with his studio
attached, to learn his teaching methods.
During his fall session, studio packed with teachers, alone working
with them, on a brief break he became aware of noise downstairs and
investigated. Robbie had flown down the chimney flue, entered the
furnace flue and was in the furnace. It had not yet ignited.
My dad was as smart, self reliant, clever as they come. I never asked
why there wasn't some other way, but if there were, he'd have
taken it. Now mind you, he worked from dawn till bed time, earning
money to please my mom's exorbitant tastes, and to provide what he
wanted us kids to have. And, he did this 7 days per week, 365 days per
year. Oh, we'd take a 1-4 week family vacation - but he felt we couldn't
afford for him to come, he'd stay, and teach, from dawn, till bedtime. I
recall only a few exceptions. Money, for us to have it, was real, real,
important to him - every penny.
He took an axe to the furnace, destroying it, frantically trying to save that
bird, that hadn't cost us a cent. Robbie. Must have taken him
weeks of work, or more, to pay for the replacement. He never gave it a
thought. The bird's Life is what he valued. Still makes me
weep. That's what his Love was, for the world, for us all.
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