Lane DeGregory: INVERNESS
He found it four years ago when he was cleaning out closets. His sheet music: Chopin, Beethoven, Debussy, all buried inside a dusty box. He hadn’t seen those songs in almost 50 years.
The pages were torn and taped; the dog-eared corners had yellowed. But Bill Lotz, now 71, could still read every note.
“Come with me,” he told his wife, Suzi. “We’re going to buy a piano.”
Suzi looked at him, surprised. They had been married six years and she never knew he played.
When they got to the Crystal River music store, she thought Bill would plunk out Chopsticks.
Instead, Clair de Lune filled the air: graceful, gentle and dynamic. A bit halting, in spots. But after a half-century, Bill’s hands still remembered.
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