He Killed Our Father (page 10)

Quentin

Thanks snowbird, I remember the thread...

Lurking dark and brooding under the deeply shaded pergola was an unwilling rival, a contender in the making because of a perceived necessity in his own newly doubting heart and mind. Troubling emotions were sullying the purity, the innocence of Manfred Proctor.

Manny, freshly arrived from the Midwest by Greyhound, was settling in uneasily at Bay City Institute of Music, there on scholarship, prayer and the good wishes of his tiny community of Deepwater. Without question the musical talent of his region, yet he wondered vaguely, with no specific pondering over the old cliche, if he were now a small fish in a big pond. Hearty applause had been generously offered, without reservation, by good-hearted but rustic audiences back home. These simple people were blissfully unaware that one doesn't clap, stand and cheer between movements of a solo. Discerning cosmopolitans regularly taking advantage of subscription services, on the other hand, are considerably more reserved when it comes to dispensing the nod of approval and the measured meeting of the hands that tell the performer at the end of his performance that, maybe, we like you. Sophisticated patrons of the arts make those performers whom they grant an audience (this, in a strange twist of staging irony) go through a test of fire before deigning to accede their total acceptance. Life on the stage can be a ... well, you know the word.

Whatever naivete this young country boy may hold about him, Manny is no fool. He knows that making it big - making it at all in the music world - will entail practice, practice and, then, more practice. This he was accustomed to doing and was altogether willing to continue doing. A lot back home was riding on his succeeding. Now, however, stormy weather that would never have clouded the horizon in the bucolic, nurturing surroundings of Deepwater, were currently darkening the doorstep of his psyche.

Manny had never known - he had never seen - anyone like P.W. Wingate. Though by nature friendly and easy-going, the diminutive violinist from the Ozarks felt an unaccustomed envy, an uncertainty as to future hopes for personal success, with a fellow student, likewise a violinist, so much larger-than-life, looming over him.

compound complex

A Letter Not Sent

My Dear Son:

You left so suddenly and without reason, so I thought. Now I know. I know why.

Needless to say, I can see inside your young man's heart and understand it. I once was young but not so very long ago. Despite the scant years that separate us, that not so distant past has become a blur of vague images. When I think about it all - it's dangerous to think too much - I cringe. I am embarrassed by a remembrance of past juvenile behavior. My center has been hollowed out by youthful indiscretion and has left its dirty imprint to indelibly stain my soul.

On the one hand, I regret your flight from the warm, protective embrace of family; yet, on the other, I am profoundly aware of your need to flee the suffocation a young man feels when his inherent need for separation from parental control arises. I know. I understand. I fled home earlier than you. It is a necessary and universal rite of passage. Am I God that I should tamper with the immutable?

I await your return, patiently, on your terms.

Love,

Dad

nancy drew

I wonder what part manny will play in this unfolding drama?

compound complex

Thanks, Nancy Drew, for asking.

A lot back home was riding on his succeeding.

This came to my mind as I reread my post re: Manny, then scrolled down to read your prescient comment:

Those back home who contributed to Manny's getting to BCIOM sacrificed much to help him get there. He is indebted to them, he loves them. His otherwise mild and withdrawing nature may mutate into one more aggressive when challenged. It's not simply talent vs. talent here; the overall imposing persona of the prince - Wingate - will unsettle the meek and small-in-stature Manny, who has issues over his apparent unspectacular physical appearance.

Thanks for the vibes you sent! They hit me before I actually read your words!

CoCo