When I was my son's age — 13 — it wouldn’t have occurred to me to connect music and travel. I was a reluctant violinist, and would have quit in an instant if my mother had let me. When I brought it up, she would quote master violin teacher Shinichi Suzuki: “Music exists for the purpose of growing an admirable heart.” And that would be the end of the conversation. The farthest we traveled for music’s sake was to a neighboring town for a workshop or to a larger city for a concert.
My kids inherited the music gene from my mother, who died before they were born. At four my son asked for piano lessons, and when he was five I agreed. He’s been an ardent pianist since, in love with Beethoven, Chopin, Debussy, and whoever else he happens to be playing. His sister, who used to nap in my arms as he practiced, started playing as soon as she could reach the keys. Now they compete for practice time on our living-room piano.
At a lesson last spring, my son’s teacher invited him to study at an international music academy in Cremona, Italy, where she is a faculty member. “Families often come along,” she said.
My son looked at me with incredulous excitement. Italy! Could we go?
My husband and I had gotten engaged in Florence 24 years earlier; we’d been talking about a family trip to Italy for years. Here was our excuse. Our kids were the perfect ages for travel: 13 and 9, old enough to appreciate the music, the architecture, and the cuisine, but still young enough not to spend the entire time on their phones. And I knew how much the immersion in Cremona’s musical culture would mean to them both.
I heard my mother quoting Shinichi Suzuki. I found myself saying yes.
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