Piano runs in my family the way some families pass down a name.
My mother played – Irving Berlin, show tunes, songs that filled a room. My grandmother sat at the same bench before her, playing gospel hymns. My sister even attended Juilliard. Three generations, one instrument, always going.
But nothing compared to symphony nights. We lived sixty miles from Cincinnati, in a small Indiana town, but my father’s company was based here. Every so often, they would hand him a pair of tickets to the Cincinnati Symphony Orchestra. It was an event. My parents would find a babysitter, dress to the nines and drive in for the evening. That was my first real window into the arts offerings in this wonderful city. I was too young to understand what I was watching. I only knew it was important and it brought joy.
That feeling followed me everywhere – into my piano lessons, the May Festival Chorus and on every school field trip that put me in a Cincinnati theater seat.
Years later, sitting in the Children’s Theatre with my grandchildren, something clicked. The price of the ticket wasn’t covering the true cost of what I was seeing. Someone else was quietly making up the difference, so a child next to me could have this experience.
That’s when giving stopped feeling optional. Gary and I have done well – not because we started with money, but because we built something. And when I think about what to do with that, the answer is simple: pay it forward, so the next generation can also access the joy generated by arts experiences.