Back in the mid-70s, when I was around 15 years old, Mom invited me to play for some of her group piano lessons. I was studying at Juilliard Prep in NYC on Saturdays and had to learn a lot of repertoire.
After I played for the group piano class, one student came back the following week with a poem she had written. The 10-year old poet is Michelle Pecot. Michelle had recently moved to North Bennington from China? (My memory is a little foggy here). Her family didn’t stay in town very long and I have since lost track of her. I am hoping that, somehow, she may see this post or someone who is still in touch with her will send it to her.
The handwritten poem was printed and framed by the family of Barbara Kourajian, back in the late 80s. I sometimes read the poem, to remind myself how music can help us escape our worries and that it doesn’t take much to move an individual, allowing them to sing through their own piano playing, too.