An excerpt from ‘What Lies Within’:
After dinner at Lindy’s in New York City, my uncle and I browsed the stores in the theater district. My uncle discovered a record store and said, “My favorite pastimes are to read and listen to my records. I have about 1,000 albums back in California. I love the tenors, especially Caruso. When I play his recordings, I turn the volume up on my HiFi until my trailer shakes.”
We found no Caruso, but I spotted a recording of the Grieg Piano Concerto in C# Minor played by Eugene Ormandy and the Philadelphia Philharmonic Orchestra. This was one of my favorite pieces, and I’d mastered the theme on the piano. The flip side contained Rachmaninoff’s Variations on a Theme of Paganini. Uncle Richard bought it for me, and whenever I hear these works I think of him. He enhanced my love of classical music, which my mother introduced to me at an early age.
That evening I saw my first Broadway show, My Fair Lady, with the inimitable Rex Harrison starring as Professor Henry Higgins. We sat in the center orchestra section, right near the actors. The costumes were elaborate, the scenery revolved, and the music delighted. I was already familiar with the story, because the show had been on Broadway for nearly five years. I watched in awe. It was all so wonderful.
Two and a half hours later, we made our way to the Port Authority and the bus that would take us back to Hillside. It was nearly eleven, and snow had begun to fall once more. The bus dropped us in Hillside, but it wasn’t the stop where my mother had arranged to meet us. We stood outside and waited, but she did not come. There were no phone booths nearby, and my mother would not have been home if we’d tried to call. She was sitting in her car waiting at a different bus stop. We saw the headlights of an approaching car through the storm. When it got closer, we realized it was not my mother’s car. The driver stopped and asked, “Do you need help?”
“We’ve been waiting for my sister to pick us up, but we must have gotten our signals crossed. Could you give us a lift?” my uncle asked.
I was frightened. My mother had always taught me not to speak to strangers and never, ever hitchhike. Now her younger brother was doing both. . .and I was along for the ride.