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But everyone joins a band in this life. Only some of them play music.
As a child, he suffered greatly, and for his suffering, he was granted a gift. A set of strings that empowered him to change lives. Six strings. Six lives.
Sometimes I think the greatest talent of all is perseverance.
TALENT IS A PIECE OF GOD’S SHADOW. AND UNDER THAT SHADOW, HUMAN STORIES INTERSECT.
Why humans kill each other is beyond my comprehension, but I can testify that you have been doing it since your inception. Only the weapons change.
“Maalaala Mo Kaya,” written by a Filipino composer named Constancio de Guzman.
As they gazed at the grave, she hooked her fingers in Frankie’s. He squeezed hers in return. There are moments on earth when the Lord smiles at the unexpected sweetness of His creation. This was one of those moments.
On the same day Frankie Presto found love, he lost his home. Major to minor.
This may seem highly fortuitous, but when a higher power has plans for you, life can be full of near misses.
If he could have unplugged his heart and shut the lights on his memory, he would have.
“The secret is not to make your music louder, but to make the world quieter.”
I have said that music allows for quick creation. But it is nothing compared with what you humans can destroy in a single conversation.
There are songs that you play that you have to restart, and songs that you play that you never get right. But when a song is complete, there is no more you can do.
But all love stories are symphonies. And, like symphonies, they have four movements: • Allegro, a quick and spirited opening • Adagio, a slow turn • Minuet/Scherzo short steps in ¾ time • Rondo, a repeating theme, interrupted by various passages I always knew where Frankie and Aurora were heading. Given his musicality, how could they not follow form?
“Then you will have to start over.” “At the beginning?” “No. You cannot be a baby twice.” “Then how do you start over?” “The way a composer starts a new piece.
And then I asked, “When was the last time you were home?” And he said, “I don’t really have one.” And I said, “Everyone has someplace they call home.” He held up his guitar. “All I ever had was this,” he said, “and her.”
“The greatest thing, you’ll ever learn Is just to love, and be loved in return.”
You cannot unplay your notes. Time, like music, is indelible that way.
The key to learning music is humility, see?
He was talking about intentions. That’s important in music, too. Critically important. What you’re thinking about can be what you become.
“Träumerei”
He moved to the altar and lowered himself to his knees. For the first time since he was a child, he opened his hands for something other than the guitar. And despite El Maestro’s warning that “God gives you nothing,” he asked the Lord for some sort of answer. Some clarity. Some peace. He waited. Listening. A child of mine expects a sound. He heard only silence. As his teacher had predicted.
Frankie was connected to me in the rarest of ways, from the inside out, so that he was no longer playing the notes of that song, he was playing its tears, the tears that fell from Tárrega’s eyes as he composed it, the tears that dripped down Carmencita’s cheeks as she hummed it, the tears that welled behind El Maestro’s dark glasses when he realized he had passed on my beauty to the son of a sardine maker.
Everyone joins a band in this life. And what you play always affects someone. Sometimes, it affects the world. Frankie’s symphony ends. And so, at last, we rest.
