Now, before I can give the story of my listening, you need to know the story of the song. Van Cliburn was a 6’4”, 23 year old Texan seemingly transported from the music world of 1858 into that of a century later. That year, he was invited to the first-ever International Tchaikovsky Competition in the Soviet Union, intended to be a showcase of Soviet cultural dominance to go with their recent technological (Sputnik, 1957) and military (Hungarian Revolution, 1956) triumphs over the United States. However, things did not turn out that way. Van Cliburn stepped up to the piano in front of thousands of Russians, including First Secretary Nikita Khrushchev himself, and performed what is arguably the greatest single performance of a piece from the Romantic era. The standing ovation lasted for 8 minutes, and Van Cliburn won the competition by a landslide, blowing his Russian competition out of the water. It came as a complete and total shock to all of the Union, and was a much-needed boost to American standing in the Cold War. All from a single song!

     But back to me. I am, as you all know, eruditely inclined, and not prone to go out and exercise. However, I’ll run a 5K every once in a while, and usually enjoy it. I’m only in it for the fun, and usually don’t that fast, which is fine, but over the years I’ve improved to a respectable 32-35 minutes. Because of this I was totally surprised when, last summer, I got my personal best — 28 minutes, 30 seconds, the winning time for the under 18 category. I was heartily congratulated by my family and went home to clean up and relax. I went upstairs to take a shower and just lay on my bed for a few minutes, letting the cool of the air conditioner wash over me. I hit play on the concerto.

     The music rose and fell, Van Cliburn’s hands deftly flinging themselves across the keys like 10 tiny catapults. The violins followed close behind, a wild stampede of sound and song. Then, the second part began, with the cellos starting out smothered by the other instruments then slowly rising, just like the pianist and me, to the top. For 20 exhilarating minutes, I was utterly enthralled by every note. For 20 incredible minutes, I was there in that crowded Muscovite concert hall, 62 years and half a world away. For 20 awe-inspiring minutes, I understood the beauty of classical music in its purest form, and the shock of an unexpected win against the odds. I honestly felt the presence of Music itself in its purest form, as tangible as the room around me and the sweat on my brow. And then, the final strokes are added, the piano falls silent, and all is over. The song has ended, and I am swirling like a helpless leaf in the wake of an ocean liner. Two men, long dead and from as different a background as you could imagine, lived again for 20 short minutes in my room — all through the power of music.