For a dermatologist, my father knew every dot of the chamber - TopicsExpress

For a dermatologist, my father knew every dot of the chamber literature. The evenings would start with Haydn, modulate to Mozart, ambitiously strive with Ludwig, and end with Shostakovich or Dvorak or Schuberts Quintet. A madman was writing The Shapiro Quartet. I was trying to write for the flute or the piano. Some days I feel as Arnold is said to have felt with his fathers dead body: All that information. Not said coldly. With an endless sense of what is lost. He was not a great violist or violinist or sculptor, but who is? A painter said: Don;t be so judgmental, David. (I was just offered a free cruise to the Bahamas.) Frank Lima always reminded me how lucky I was; he loved my father and dedicated poems to him.