When I was quite young, I remember that I listened to Peter and the Wolf, and was fascinated by all the musical instruments.   Somewhere along the line, perhaps shortly after that, we stopped listening to music in my childhood home.  I suspect the record player died. And there was probably no money to replace it.  But I knew music was important.

For my parents, who often sang in the car on road trips, important music was what was popular when they were younger.  What a surprise.   So, the big-band music was a major hit, and the crooners were heroes in my home.   Frank Sinatra, Tony Bennett, Dean Martin, Frankie Lane, the Dorsey Brothers. (Is that right? Or was it the orchestra? There isn't even anyone I can ask.)  What I knew was that my parents loved music: they loved to dance, and they sang at the drop of a hat.   But, classical music was not a part of the scene.  Perhaps it's tough to hum an entire symphony, even if one does know it by heart!

By the time I was in my 30s, I realized that I knew nothing about classical music.  A friend whose taste in music is at least as eclectic and refined as her taste in literature (and she reads Proust for bedtime reading!) took me under her wing.  She bought me several CDs that she thought would be a good introduction to classical music: The Planets, the Seasons, and Mozart's horn concertos.  The latter is still among my all-time favourite CDs, and I can hum the entire CD.  Not that anyone else would recognize it, but I'd know.  I find myself humming to it when I hear any of them in elevators, for example. Quite embarassing to those who have to pretend to not know me.

My life partner, it turns out, is a music junkie. Some might even suggest he's a music slut, since he seems to like all kinds.  But I've seen him cringe at country music, so I know he has some discrimination (although it's not one I share).  In any case, when he arrived, he arrived with some 200 CDs, of which about 50 were classical.  By this time, I'd added a collection of Mozart, some more Vivaldi, and one or two Tchaikovsky.  Classical music had arrived with a vengeance.

Next thing I knew, we were subscribing to the pops concerts of the National Arts Centre Orchestra.  And after a few years, we added a few light classical concerts.  This year, we added some of the heavy-duty series. And tonight was the opening concert: all Beethoven.  Included was my life partner's all-time favourite symphony (Beethoven's 7th) which he'd never heard performed live before.   It was a delightful evening.

Every time I find myself in the audience at such an event, though, I wonder why it is that classical music appeals only to the elite.  And then I wonder if it's an acquired taste (along with caviar and champagne, some would say), or whether it's that only the upper classes can afford to expose their kids to the live performances.

Then I look carefully at the men and women in the orchestra.   I notice that they're all white, but not all male.  I wonder if all of them grew up in upper class homes, or whether some teacher somewhere encouraged them in a school with a music program.  And how did they afford the lessons? And the instruments?  And is music really a luxury? Frivolous? Decadent?  Is it an elite pastime, with no need to worry about what the poorer and less educated among us are missing?

I confess that despite my almost-50-years, I can never find a good answer to this one.  I don't understand enough about talent, and how it arrives in a human being.  I don't understand what role the inspiration that fine art or classical music or fine literature can provide plays in a person's life.  But something tells me that we don't want to restrict these inspirations to those who can afford the season's subscriptions and the weekly visit to the bookstores.  Another one of those challenges without a resolution  -- or at least I don't see a resolution, and I don't know who would have one, and I suspect I wouldn't have much to contribute to its achievement in any case.  But I still want Beethoven in every home. Or Mozart.  Or Schubert.  Or even Moody Blues in Days of  Future Past.   May the orchestra be with you.

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