October 21, 2006 — Ten years past.
That day helped change lives for many, in a very good way:
Esther Muradov was a delicate, 13 year-old young lady when we met her ten years ago today at our private home. With her mother on piano, she lifted her violin and played the first long note of a Vieuxtemps Concerto. Hair rose on my arms. Suzanne and I, and friends, sat stunned as this child mastered the music as though in a concert hall. When she finished, I lifted my jaw off the floor as a zillions questions flowed through my brain.
“How much do you practice?”
“About four hours a day.”
“Who’s your favorite violinist?” I asked
“Jascha Heifetz,” she responded.
“But he died long before you were born.”
“I know,” she replied. “But he was the greatest of the 20th century.”
She was right.
“What are your ambitions, Esther?”
“Well, I’d like to go to Europe and compete internationally against other violinists. Maybe, someday I can play in Carnegie Hall.”
Her Russian-born mother, Pervin Muradov, answered for her, “Too expensive. Besides that, her violin no good. Other kids will have much better instruments.”
“Perhaps we can do something,” I …