Printer-friendly version

Got a phone call from destiny: Beethoven wants me to play his fifth. The music's already in the mail, and could I be there on the 22nd for the 7:15 downbeat?

Of course, what better way to celebrate my return to the symphony than with a date with the universe? Beethoven's fifth lies on the stand, and though I've never seen it before now, my fingers fall in line as though predestined.

Some call it practice; this is more like going home.