Emily Louw's day jobs helped pay the bills for her passion, the piano. She played with a group of musicians at gigs around Northern California, or with the San Jose Symphony Orchestra, and when she was very lucky, she was invited to play with the San Francisco Symphony in Davies Hall. But she couldn't survive on those earnings so Monday through Friday, day in and day out, she taught music in the mornings at an elementary school followed by piano lessons in the afternoons in private homes.
Most of her students seemed musically inept. The afternoon piano lessons were the most trying as children's fingers stumbled over scales so that a monotonous metronome seemed tuneful by comparison. But one student, Benny Tam, was different. His fingers flew nimbly across the piano and his body language showed passion. No challenge was ever too daunting. At nine years old, he was playing better than any of her older students and he had only been learning for two years. She had first noticed his exceptional ability at school where he shone in music classes. When she spoke to his parents at back-to-school night, she gleaned that they had come recently to the Bay Area from Hong Kong, and that his mother played the violin. When Emily suggested that Benny would benefit from learning to play an instrument, his mother shook her head vigorously and threw her hands in the air.
"I work long hours," she had explained. "When I get home, Benny is tired and I am tired. There is no time for music any more. I can't teach him. Maybe one day there will be time, but not now." She shook her head sadly and said, "When I was a child, we had time to play as well as learn. But now, children must just learn. They must have a good education."
Emily tried to suggest that learning an instrument was part of their education, especially when someone was as talented as Benny. His mother was adamant that an instrument would not get Benny into a good college one day. "He must learn academics," she insisted.
The following week Benny came to music class and handed her a note very shyly. She looked quizzically at the envelope that bore her name and Benny said, "It's from my grandmother. She lives with us." He smiled.
When she opened the envelope, it contained a letter and $40. His grandmother explained that she concurred Benny should learn to play an instrument, and if Miss Louw would agree, she would like her to come and teach Benny how to play the piano. She would find whatever money was necessary to pay for the lessons and she gave a phone number and time that would be suitable to make a call. What ensued was a marvel.
Mrs. Tam Senior was a diminutive woman with enormous spirit and quiet determination. She arranged to meet Emily at Starbucks and explained her belief was that we are all born with gifts, but that some people refuse to use them. " My daughter-in-law," she said, "is very clever at many things but she only thinks that making money is important. When she used to play the violin, it was so beautiful that you felt like crying. But now she says she has no time and Benny mustn't waste his time either." She looked down at her tiny hands that were clenched into fists. "Benny is my only grandchild. I know he has talent. I will pay for piano lessons if you will teach him."
Emily drew a deep breath. "I'm not sure I can get caught in a family disagreement,"she replied. "I don't want to be caught in the middle of something like this."
"She won't know," the grandmother said emphatically. " I work in the morning somewhere else, but in the afternoon I look after Benny. That is my job and my responsibility. He wants to learn," she added. "It is my duty Miss Louw, to help him use his gift. That's what piano lessons will do for him. He is a gifted child."
"How will he practice without her knowing?" Emily queried. " To learn, means to practice every day."
Mrs. Tam nodded her head. "Oh yes, I know. He will practice before his mother gets home from work, which is easy. She only gets home at 8pm. You see, I learned the piano when I was a child until there was no more money for lessons. It was the saddest day in my life when lessons stopped and my mother had to sell the piano. I understand dedication, Miss Louw. I also understand frustration and missed opportunities."
Emily agreed to teach Benny and the lesson every Tuesday at 5pm was pure joy for all three conspirators. Sometimes Mrs. Tam played duets with her grandchild and her face looked sublime, but even simply sitting listening, she was transported to a magical place where her soul was alive. Benny's fingers never stumbled and he begged for greater challenges. What he loved most of all was to play Beethoven's "Ode to Joy." Whereas all her other students crucified the piece as they labored over it, Benny made it sound new and inspired every time he played.
"Benny," his grandmother said, "your father fell in love with your mother's music before he even knew her. He told me that the earth moved beneath his feet when he first heard her play the violin. She was a busker at a train station with a hat on the ground catching pennies to pay for her schooling, playing Pachelbel. One day he will feel the same when he hears you play the piano." Benny smiled and nodded his head.
On October 17th 1989, Benny was seated at the piano with Emily at his side and Mrs. Tam in her customary chair at the back of the room. After warming up with a few scales, Benny proudly began playing the piece he had been working on that week, Pachelbel's "Canon in D."
At precisely 5.04pm, his father arrived home unexpectedly. He stood open mouthed listening, holding onto the door to steady himself in wonder. The earth moved beneath his feet.
At that same moment, the San Andreas Fault shifted 7.9 on the Richter scale.
At 5.09 pm the phone rang. It was Benny's mother. "Are you all right?" she shouted above the crackle on the line.
"I've just got home, " his father said, "and everything is absolutely fine."
"Is Benny all right?"
"Come home and see for yourself," he said and smiled.