My first job after I graduated from college was as society editor of the Kilgore News-Herald. I had my degree in journalism and thought I was a smart cookie, ready for the New York Times. Instead I was describing bridesmaid’s dresses and reporting on children’s birthday parties in this little East Texas town.
A local music teacher brought in “stories” about a little club she sponsored for her piano students. I dutifully printed the names of each child who attended the meetings.
One day, as she handed over the slip of paper with latest news of this little club, she said, “Kilgore is the most musical town in East Texas. You would never guess the musical authority who told me that Kilgore is definitely the most musical town in East Texas.”
“Please tell me.”
“He’s really an authority when it comes to all things musical.”
I thought, Perhaps the music critic of the Dallas Morning News.
After much persuasion, she told me the name of her distinguished “authority.” He was the organist at Kilgore’s First Presbyterian Church. “You know he lives in Longview.”
Longview is another East Texas town, about 12 miles from Kingore.
Another time she told me that her son was sure to become a world-famous pianist. I knew the kid, 14 years old and already over 6 feet tall, with a mop of blond curly hair which stood straight up from his freckled forehead.
I thought, Probably will become a piano teacher here in Kilgore, just like his mother.
I was polite. Smugly, I said, “Yes, Mrs. Cliburn, if you say so, I am sure he will be world-famous.”
Last week I went to DFW airport to pick up my son David, flying in from California for Thanksgiving. As I sped along LBJ freeway, blessed with little traffic on the holiday, my car radio serenaded me with Tchaikovsky, a recording by that world-famous pianist, Van Cliburn.
I reminded myself of that incident in Kingore. Not the first time, nor the last, when I was not as smart as I thought I was.
Sunday, December 6, 2009
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