Music is enough for a lifetime, but a lifetime is not enough for music.
—Sergei Rakhmaninov

I first saw these words beaming from a wall at the Meyerson Symphony Center, home of the Dallas Symphony. Despite my lifetime spent studying Russian music, they were new to me.

The phrase speaks of every worthy endeavor. Poetry is enough for a lifetime, but a lifetime is not enough for poetry. The richness of the culinary arts is enough for a lifetime, but a lifetime is not enough to explore the richness of the culinary arts. Fishing the best streams in Western Virginia is enough for a lifetime, but a lifetime clearly is not enough to fish them all (just ask my brother).

Music is in such a funny position regarding the revival of education that inspires so many of us. The renewal of Great Literature is perhaps the most extraordinary accomplishment of this movement, particularly when you couple it with the revival of Latin. This renewal happened in the nick of time, too, as the public schools were axing what little was left of real books.

Kids, moms, families are reading these days . . . and at levels that would flabbergast persons outside of this movement. (If only those who wish to destroy homeschooling and the Classical schools would raise their heads and discover this fact and, yes, I’m talking to you, Harvard professors.) In terms of literature, the mountaintop, if not reached, is full of those ardently scaling it.

But what about music? (I could take up any of the Fine Arts, but let me stick now to music).

Musical literacy is a key component of cultural literacy. And yes, popular music has a place in this mix. But popular music, because it is easy to digest and often shallow in content, has been allowed to gut the musical heritage that routinely was taught in schools. That teaching may not have been perfect, but it was solid and effective. Older students learned repertoire through LPs and visits to regional orchestras. Concerts and recitals sometimes came to the schools. We had Leonard Bernstein’s “Young People’s Concerts” on TV (which taught more music in one hour than words can say).

Most critically, elementary classrooms had pianos in them. Teachers by and large could play piano rather well, or at least play some instrument. We learned the names, sounds, and placement of orchestral instruments and mastered rudimentary notation. We banged out rhythms and studied folksongs from a songbook. We were in choir and sang rather good repertoire. We learned traditional hymns too which, whether a person wishes the sacred implications or not, make magnificent pedagogical material.

By fifth grade we could join the band. There were regular classes in folk-dancing too. While the boys complained, and the sessions may have been chaotic (although not when iconic teachers like Mrs. Clark and Mrs. Shelton presided), we learned a lot about controlling our bodies and our hilarity, while gaining manners and some social skills.

Poof. We know what happened. It was taken apart, brick by brick.

And so, while rearming for the battle to restore higher, richer educational standards for our children and grandchildren, let us mourn the loss of our basic musical education.

This does not mean kids have to take piano lessons. That is a different issue. We do not expect a child delighting to Wynken, Blynken, and Nod to sit down and begin writing a similar poem. We develop familiarity and understanding of poetry in and of itself. We allow the intrigue and fun of words to trigger the child’s mnemonic capacity so as to bolster the acquisition of language. We count on the imagery, beauty, and energy of poetry to enhance a child’s practical, moral, and spiritual lessons.

Exposure to good musical repertoire does the same thing. It can, and needs to, occur at every stage of life. Here at Professor Carol we increasingly have been turning our attention to developing pedagogical materials for adults who are unsure how to implement music education for children (e.g., A Child’s Treasure of Music). Hank’s just-released course on music theory designed for upper elementary through adults is another good tool. And a new endeavor—I will tell you about shortly, because it will soon go to press—is coming.

But meanwhile, I had a thought triggered in part by how happy I am to have found a book club in my new home of Winston-Salem. Why not a music “book club”?

A book club, as you likely know, leads us to read things we might not otherwise read. So why not launch a regular event where a substantial piece of music is put forth, as in a book club, and people can join me in an exploration of the work? With the virtual-meeting technology many have mastered in recent weeks, the mechanics will be easy. Some of you already have joined me for two sessions on Getting to Know Opera in anticipation of the Met’s free nightly streamings during quarantine (a link to the talks for Rossini’s Cinderella and Puccini’s La Bohème is here, if you’re curious).

The sessions of this music club can be varied so as to allow for individual interactions and sharing of reactions and observations. Every book club has its own way of proceeding, does it not? So I will welcome your ideas on a music club.

Okay, that’s what was on my mind today. That, and the fact that my Über-gardening has finally left its mark with a yucky case of poison oak—my childhood and adult nemesis. Oh well. Getting those doggone vines off the trees was worth it.

Now, if it just doesn’t drop to freezing Saturday night! My fragile veggies need to survive. What is going on with gradual Spring in North Carolina? In Texas, we rejoiced in Spring for a few weeks (just enough for the bluebonnets to wow us), and then the thermometer jumped to its proper place in the 90s.

Think about the music-club idea with me. Think about where gaps might be in your own musical exposure. What “scares” you or seems beyond reach: symphonies, chamber music, songs in other languages? Let’s see what new worlds we can unwrap together.