A Visit to Berkeley

I took myself to Berkeley yesterday to visit my mother-in-law whom I love but don’t see very often. She had recently had a heart procedure but wanted to give me a hug in person following mum’s death.

I don’t see her very often, but I almost NEVER see her alone. Our conversation ranged far and wide — I told her about alchemy and what I’d been reading, we talked about music and its relation to poetry. I have always wondered whether composition is like poetry, in that it seems to fall out of the sky. Well, yes, she said, but there are rules.

I have never listened to much Schubert outside of the Lieder but she pointed me to his final piano sonata (D960 in Bb major). Sharon says he was the master of juxtaposition: in one bar your dog died, in the next, you’re eating cotton candy. I listened to this sonata after I got home and it really does plumb the depths of grief, so I think I’ll be listening to it some more. When she told me that Numenius’ father had asked for it to be played during his last 24 hours of life, it made me determined to listen to it even more carefully.

Write a book, she said. Write a book about your mother, since it’s really hot now. Even if only 10 people read it. Hot like an alchemist’s flame? It’s a thought.