Mary Jo Balistreri

Breakthrough

A belly laugh erupts from the living room. It’s Uncle Iggy’s birthday. He’s ninety-one today and celebrating with a young oboist from Juilliard. The student, at first cowed by Iggy’s legendary oboe career, relaxes. They have forgotten the running recorder, interrupting each other as they trade stories. Another guffaw.

They have been talking for at least forty minutes, when suddenly the room goes quiet—most likely, the student’s bending over Iggy’s barely discernible scar, asking how it happened. Just the question the old storyteller delights in answering. Sitting back in his chair, he rings a bell for his Jameson Black Barrel, neat. No matter how many times he tells the tale, it is always new:

“Into the 4th movement of Beethoven’s Pastoral Symphony, Toscanini pounds on the podium accompanied by a string of expletives in Italian. Without warning, he flings his baton. You wouldn’t believe the force of that baton. It pierces my right wrist before dropping with a clunk to the floor. There isn’t a sound in the room. Toscanini gives a dismissive arm wave. 3 pm tomorrow.“

a sultry fall day…
musicians in short sleeves
slap at the buzzing bee

“This isn’t the first time musicians have encountered his temper. They make a racket scrambling to leave. Someone tips over a music stand. Merda, travels from up front. I dab at my bloodied wrist with a handkerchief.”

bowed by the wind
fragile aster necks
heavy with buds

“Taking my time, I approach the Maestro. He’s holding the sides of the podium, head down. No eye contact. When I speak to him in Italian, he softens and turns, apologizes, and tries to explain to me the sound of the pianissimo he hears in his head. It’s like the sound of a handkerchief falling to the floor…

“’But Maestro,’ I say, ‘the oboe is unable to produce a sound like that.’ I do not mention there is no oboe in the 4th movement.

“‘I know,’ says Toscanini, ‘but you must strive. It is the only way you can even come close.'”

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About the Author

Mary Jo Balistreri has three published books of poetry and a chapbook. Even when “Jo” isn’t writing haiku she is thinking about it as it helps her to maintain a sense of gratitude and appreciation. She and her husband live in Duluth, Minnesota. Visit her at maryjobalistreripoet.com.