andhow, I have to share with you a story about this beloved, magical prelude. It was on an overcast, drizzly afternoon on Thursday, July 14, 1960, and my sister was having her piano lesson. Usually, to the extent that our attention wasn't focused on the music, it was on the latest conflict that the teacher, Mrs. H., had had with her daughter. But what attracted our attention that day instead was that Paddy, our cocker spaniel, was terribly nervous. To touch him was to feel him trembling so fast it was like a vibration. A few minutes later, a very severe thunderstorm hit. It was quite unexpected, because Grandpa always swore that it never rained on Thursday afternoon between one and four o'clock, when his friends, the Henwoods, went shopping. But it was almost like a hurricane, ripping a big branch off the Chinese elm tree in the back yard. And what piece was my sister learning to play? Yes. This prelude. It was almost as if a lesson in piano morphed into a lesson in witchcraft. And it sounds so much like a summer thunderstorm: first we have the patter of the rain in the thirty-second notes, then the thunder of the chords. I just played it over the phone for a friend, and she agrees. So thanks for keeping it fresh in people's minds.