The following story about the famous violinist Itzhak Perlman says it all. According to a report in the Houston Chronicle Perlman was playing in a concert when one of the strings on his violin snapped. “If you have ever been to a Perlman concert, you know that getting on stage is no small achievement for him. He was stricken with polio as a child. To see him walk across the stage one step at a time, painfully and slowly, is an awesome sight. Just as he finished the first few bars, one of the strings on his violin broke. You could hear it snap—it went off like gunfire across the room . . . he waited a moment, closed his eyes, and then signaled the conductor to begin again. The orchestra began, and he played . . . with such passion and such power. Of course, anyone knows that it is impossible to play a symphonic work with just three strings. I know that, and you know that, but that night, Itzhak Perlman refused to know that. . . . When he finished, there was an awesome silence. . . . And then people rose and cheered.” When the applause died down, these words were Perlman’s response: ‘You know, sometimes it is the artists task to find out how much music you can still make with what you have left.’ ”
Jack Riemer, the author of the article, concluded: “So, perhaps our task in this shaky, fast-changing, bewildering world . . . is to make music, at first with all that we have, and then, when that is no longer possible, to make music with what we have left.”1
So let’s all keep making music.