Fun With Music

Fun With Music

The elderly man waved a wand around as he spoke: “Weave music.” The wand sparkled in reply to his command. There was a presence that pulled me toward the little shop on the cobbled street. I entered the small shop; there, an elderly white-haired man dressed in a purple robe was dancing around the room, twirling a wand; it was indeed a strange sight. There was a small bell above the doorway that tinkled merrily as he smiled: “Come in, oh do come in.” I stepped over the threshold and into his shop. I was seeking a piece of sheet music and had not been able to locate a copy. “What can I do for you, young man?” the little man asked quietly. I replied just as softly: “I am attempting to locate a piece of sheet music, a very precise minuet written by Carl Emanuel Bach. It is specifically for the piano forte. Do you carry such an item?” He turned silently, went to a wooden drawer, mumbled a few words, and produced the sheet of music. I was stunned to see it written on what appeared to be handmade paper. ‘Oh my,’ I thought to myself; this looks like an original piece; the notes were written by hand. I wanted to ask the cost: “Young man, money is nothing to me, I have all I require.” He pranced around the room, waving his wand, before long music began to play as if out of nowhere. Beautiful pieces of music, written by Bach, Brahms, and Beethoven, a piano forte played the Minuet in G. I glanced at my watch: “Sir, may I please return to your shop again and perhaps bring a few friends/” The old man smiled: “It would be my pleasure, young man. Next visit I will have a surprise for you.” I smiled to myself as I exited the shop and out into the bright sunlight. I strode toward the music academy where I taught composition. I could not wait to play the piece I had just acquired. I thought of the old man’s invitation; yes, I would return to his shop. I thought for a moment I could hear music in the air of my classroom. Was I caught up in some strange dream? I thought. The old wizard twirled and danced with delight; he found the person he was seeking, and he began to plan his surprise. He loved music; that young man was perfect to learn to be a wizard! The old wizard could finally return to his home in the mountains, and to find his friend and mentor, Marvin the Mad. His blue eyes twinkled as he thought about Marvin and home; it had been over 250 years since he came here to the United States. A magical message arrived from Mad Marvin: “Return to wizard academy; there is a teaching position open.” Signed MM. The wizard once again danced around the room with glee; finally, he was going home. A thought occurred to him that he must summon the young man who came into his shop that morning; he had great potential to become a wizard. The white-haired wizard thought about the surprise he had in mind; he planned to conjure up the young man’s favorite composer, Ludwig von Beethoven. He would then introduce the subject of wizardry. The young man had a quiet intensity that reminded the wizard of himself. The trick was to help the young man realize his full potential, not just as a musician but also as an apprentice wizard par excellence. The young man, as the wizard thought of him, loved music; it was his life. The sun shone brightly as the young man once again entered the wizard’s shop. The bell tinkled above the door as he entered. The wizard heard the young man and waved his wand and conjured Beethoven. The piano awaited him; the wizard pointed out. Beethoven sat down and began to play the Moonlight Sonata. The young man was entranced; the music was beautiful. Then he realized that it was actually Beethoven. He stammered: “Is that really Beethoven?” The wizard smiled: “Yes, my boy, it is one and only. Would you like to meet him?” The young man just stood there, dumbly nodding his head yes. The wizard strode over to the piano: “Herr Beethoven, may I introduce you to a young man who greatly admires you.” Beethoven continued to play the piano; he no longer heard anything. He was playing the “Ode to Joy” and smiling. The wizard turned to the young man: “Oh dear me, I don’t know your name, young man.” The young man smiled: “My name is Robert Armstrong, and what is your name, sir?” The piano playing in the background, the wizard replied: “My name is Alistair.” Alistair turned to face Robert: “Robert, I am a wizard. I want to return to Scotland and teach at the Wizard Academy, but before I can return, I must find a replacement. Would you consider that?” Robert felt as if he were in a strange dream, and he wished he would awake from it. Robert asked: “How long does it take to become a wizard? I have a concert tonight at the academy, and I am to play Beethoven’s Sonata number three in C Major.” Alistair smiled: “Robert, to become a powerful wizard takes years, not hours. If you decide you would care to try, we can begin slowly, perhaps tomorrow morning before your music classes begin.” Robert returned Alistair’s smile: “All right, Alistair, I will try this wizard thing.” Once Robert was out the door, Alistair did a dance of pure delight around the room, as Beethoven continued to play. Alistair was ready to return to Scotland and the Wizard Academy. Robert arrived early; Alistair heard the bell tinkle and thought: ‘Oh dear, Robert is early, I am not prepared.’ He whirled around the room as if he were a whirling dervish, gathering the essential items for Robert’s first lesson. Robert closely watched the wizard twirling and whirling around...it was fast motion. Alistair handed the wand to Robert: “The first thing you must learn, Robert, is control. Control will aid you in moving objects; then you must learn to conjure, and lastly you must learn patience. When you learn these lessons, the rest is simple. Shall we try a small lesson in control?” Robert nodded eagerly, yes. Alistair stared for a moment at a small bottle, willing it to move: “Robert, try to concentrate on the small bottle and move it slowly.” Robert stared at it; slowly the small bottle moved almost imperceptibly. Robert was taken aback; he had done it. The elderly wizard was delighted: “Robert, do you feel up to a small conjure spell?” Robert was having difficulty taking all this in; he still thought it was simply a bizarre dream. Ultimately one hazy summer afternoon, Alistair greeted Robert: “At long last my boy, I am returning home, your powers are strong, remember my advise.” Alistair was gone in quick minute, leaving Robert there in the small shop. Robert twirled around the room, he played music, then remembered what another professor told him: “music is a joyous noise Robert, enjoy every moment.”