Three Good Gifts From my Mother
By Don Harting
Syracuse, New York
May, 2004
 
On this second anniversary of the death of Kit Harting, I’d like to share with you three good things she gave to me.
1) Musical self-confidence. One of my earliest memories goes back to when I was a little boy, perhaps age 5, listening to a record player in my bedroom at 7011 Fulton Street. I was listening to Little Golden Records, part of a boxed set of recordings of music by the great composers. The pieces I remember best include Haydn’s 94th “Surprise” Symphony, Grieg’s “Peter and the Wolf,”  St. Saens’ “The Swan,” and Borodin’s “Polovetsian Dances.”  I’m certain Mom bought these so her children would grow up having heard some of the world’s great music. It worked. I’ve often felt like I enjoyed a bit of a head start when it comes to music appreciation. I draw on that musical self-confidence frequently. For example, I used it Easter morning as the lead trumpet player in our church’s brass choir and as a bass in our church’s vocal choir. I’m very grateful for Mom’s musical encouragement early on.
 
2) Beautiful music. Among the many musical gifts she bestowed upon me, Mom gave me a wonderful CD of ceremonial music for trumpet and symphonic organ. It features Rolf Smedvig on trumpet and Michael Murray on organ. I’ll never forget Mom telling me that when she listened to this CD, it seemed that Smedvig was praying with his trumpet. The selection I love most is “The Prayer of St. Gregory” by Alan Hovhaness (b. 1911). I’d never heard of Hovhaness before, but he is terrific. When I hear this piece, I imagine a man — maybe St. Gregory — praying alone in a darkened cathedral.  The plaintive tones of the trumpet — echoed by the haunting, remote sound of a French horn — symbolize the man’s prayers. They reverberate off the polished flagstones and rise through the vaulted ceiling to the heavens above. In my mind’s eye I see a man deep in grief, prostrate on the floor, crying out to God to hear his prayer, feel his pain and taste his bitterness. Finally the man acknowledges that God reigns supreme in all things, even the man’s painful and tragic circumstances, and the piece ends with sounds of peace and acceptance. So I guess you could say that Mom also helped me to develop a vivid imagination!
 
3) Faith. Another gift Mom gave me was faith that God can bring good out of something that seems bad at the time. “Good came out of it,” was one of her hallmark phrases. She might say this in reference to an event that appeared to be a complete failure. Mom’s penchant for finding the good in even the dreariest situation prompted me to suggest that we write these reflections.
A couple of days ago, in connection with my volunteer work setting up support groups for children of divorced parents, I was reading the spring newsletter published by the Diocese of Syracuse for members of its separated and divorced ministry. It contains a Lenten meditation by a priest named Fr. Papineau who suggests this simple exercise: “Take a piece of paper and list at least five good things that have come out of your divorce. Every Sunday add to your list. Then, thank God for them. With faith, we will find that transitional experiences are angels of annunciation, not harbingers of despair.”  That reminded me of something Mom would say! That’s what got me thinking about her and, to be honest, missing her. (I also did Fr. Papineau’s exercise and came up with seven good things that have come out of my parents’ divorce before I ran out of space!)
 
         Thanks for reading these reflections. I have but scratched the surface in terms of the many gifts Mom gave to me while she was alive.
 

        
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