A few years ago, I received a telling message through my Authors Den website.

John Bidwell, a spirited short story writer and poet, shared more than a literary connection with me. He waxed poetic about his late mother and father, Eleanor and David, who were pianists and 1950’s classmates at Oberlin. (my alma mater)

A Reunion photo taken in front of the music Conservatory:

Yet despite the sender’s excitement about contacting another “pianist” who attended the Midwest school, he voiced “regrets about not being into his parent’s kind of music while they were living.”

A gush of e-mails followed. One compared my playing to Eleanor’s. (HUBBARD, maiden name)

“It is beyond endearing, because you have the same spark of life that my mom had.” He added a “smile” to his flattery.

Had John implied that I channeled his late mother’s spirit through my You Tube postings? Or was I more…