III
THERE’S MUSIC IN THE AIR
As far back as Harry could remember, the only really important thing in his life was music. Father and Mother had sacrificed to the point of gnawing hardship to give each of their children a musical education. Mother worked to supplement the family income. Father called his boys at dawn each day to help carry the big trash tins out of the five-story apartment house where they lived, so the extra money could pay for good teachers. Mediocre teachers wouldn’t do. When the little children came to sit on Daddy’s knee, he would slide with them onto the piano stool, place their chubby fingers on the keyboard and say, “See this key below these two black fellows? Well, it’s C.” Later on, when Harry lost himself for seven hours a day in his world of music, and the everlasting piano practice threatened peaceful relations with the neighbors, the family moved to another housing project and put an extra piano in the basement. The family frequented a small mission hall directed by two elderly ladies. It was a day when life’s true values were slipping.
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