Some Thoughts on Listening to Beethoven's Piano Concerto No. 3 in C Minor
& In Celebration of the Arrivals of Two Baby Boys
(copyright 2000)

Therefore I tell you, her sins, which are many, are forgiven, for she loved much; but he who is forgiven little, loves little.
    - Luke 7:47

In the highest, it is the sufferings of Christ. For the rest of us, it's that song that gets you right there. Or the letter from someone you really needed to hear. It's when your little girl says, "Daddy, I love you." It can be boundless enthusiasm, anger, or good old lust. The antonym is apathy. And its expression is before me.

The trees are in blossom, a quiet Sunday afternoon, a coffee, and my father here to listen to my ranting. He suggests an alternative, maybe an "other" or just something calm, yet he manages with no loosening of the moment. Another comment now, and he brightens, grabs his pad and writes, shaking his head, saying "great, great, great" as he laughs. And now, at this moment, here by the tall windows of the white room, with my father and an idea or two, the Piano Concerto no. 3 is just right.

Somehow, through penciled symbols and mathematical contrivance, Beethoven assembled the sublime. Did he hear it first? Or was formulaic, a product not an inspiration? It really doesn't matter, other than to know, for its perfection is evident without any thought to the meticulous combinations employed. If the composition just occurred to him, it is no less complex than were it laboriously crafted. The C Minor Concerto is not great because it is complex: despite its difficulty, it is great.

Passion is in the mix. It is reactive, and given me now by this scene. The dictionary calls passion "the state of being acted upon or affected by something external (contrasted with action)." The moment is an apex -- thorough, fleeting. There is no half passion. Lessened or altered in the least, and it is gone.

Without consideration, we glorify the moment and give it our all. This topic, that memory, and we jump from one to the next, spurred by the music, challenged by the thought, carried by the instant. Did this happen before, and will it happen again? What matters is that we are here now, father and son.

Such great news this March, fathers given their boys.

May that they sleep all night! Congratulations to the Hoopes and the Wardwells and their new baby boys.

- Bromley, April, 2000