The Lost Cello Sonata

Every so often I will take a piece I have written and adapt it for another instrument. This was the case with the Cello Sonata in D minor, Op. 25a. This piece was an adaptation of the Violin Sonata in D minor, Op. 25. But how did it get lost? One of the things I used to do way back when was to archive stuff I wasn’t finished working on and/or didn’t feel like finishing. This was one of those pieces. I found it two months ago on an old archive CD and decided I wanted to go ahead and polish it up and release it. I made several small changes in the piece to improve the overall feel. Feel free to give it a listen on my music site:


More Catharine

Yesterday I published a story about my great-grandmother, Catharine. As I said in the story, I never knew her. She had died 9 years before I was born. But over the past several weeks as I compiled the information I had collected over a period of nearly twenty years, including interviews with now long dead relatives who knew her, I began to feel that connection, I started to really get to know this woman. One of the documents I found in the family archive was her certificate of First Holy Communion. It’s dated August 1, 1886. The document was in really bad shape and had a large piece missing from it. But I was able to piece it all back together and then scanned it at very high resolution for my digital archive. Below is the scan of that document.

The reason I am posting about it is because yesterday I held it in my hands and looked at the incredible artwork on the paper, the penmanship and such. While I did so, a thought popped into my head and I said to myself, “She held this certificate in her hands 128 years ago and I am holding it now.” That sparked an emotional response, I felt suddenly connected to Catharine in a very unique way. I felt such pride being able to restore and preserve this part of my family history. Like I said, I never knew her — but now I can say I do.

Today I went to visit my mother, who is in a nursing home after suffering a stroke in 2012. She remembers her grandmother very well and we talked about the story I posted on Exposure yesterday and she was very proud of me, happy that I was telling everyone about her grandmother. My mother said to me this morning “she was a very remarkable woman, she was just a wonderful person.” I have come to learn that about Catharine through the notes I have taken and people I have spoken to who knew her, including my Mom.


Certificate of First Holy Communion, Aug 1, 1886
Certificate of First Holy Communion, Aug 1, 1886

In Memory of Kelsey


In memory of Kelsey (Aug 3, 2000 – Nov 13, 2011)

He was one of a kind, a cuddler, a runner, larger than most. He was my first, but never my last. His coat was soft, his disposition softer. He was loving, he was always there when I needed him. He was obedient and knew who his pack leader was. There will never be another like him. Though the void left behind after losing him has been filled, there will always be something missing from my heart, from my life, because he is no longer here. It’s one of those things where you ask yourself, “Why would he die so young when he was so good and did all he was asked to do?” He was gentle, he was kind, he was playful to the very last day. My loss is Heaven’s gain, my best friend has crossed over and I am left with memories, bits and pieces of his existence frozen in space and time in photo albums, on the internet and on my computer. You probably can’t understand how I haven’t been able to move on from his passing. He was my best friend, better than any human friend could ever be. His love was unconditional, he never turned away when I needed him. He was my first, which gives him a special place in my heart – a void that can never be filled. And so on this day of memories, I call out to him and say “I miss you, I love you, where-ever you may be.”