I remember the first time I saw Don Bett’s studio at Macalester College: a good-sized studio dwarfed by a massive old Steinway, heaped literally to overflowing with sheet music, shelves of music, piles of music on the chairs – so much music it seemed that there were notes in the air – residual fragments from thousands of lessons.

And Don! If the room had seemed full to overflow with music, how could there be space left for this man – an explosion of white hair that dazzled, hands that were on a keyboard even before he sat down to the piano, and a warmth towards my son that made it again clear that Mac was where Paul belonged.

And then, Don the teacher! Paul mentioned that Carol played piano, and the three of them started talking about the interpretation of – Schumann or Schubert – the pianists in the family will remind me. Don slid onto the piano bench, gestured Carol close, started playing as he talked, and the talking and the playing were that quickly inseparable. This was musical, interpersonal and language intelligences flowing together, so that the words and the music explained each other – not the sterile analysis of a “music critic,” but voice, music, and deep intuition showing us what was to hear and to love in what he played.

Paul says it right: “The way I really think of him, though, is Don the teacher: playing to an audience of one, not performing so much as sharing, hoping you will share his love and his sense of wonder for the music.

Paul posted just this morning, Don Betts, playing Robert Schumann’s Arabesque (Opus 18). Give yourself a treat and go listen.