College Admission Essays: Discusses Historical Figure Essay Example

"42nd Street. Grand Central," announced a muffled speaker as the subway car screeched to a halt, its doors sliding open. "Change here for Metro North." A crowd of passengers enveloped me, their heat striking forth in one gargantuan wave. With no way to speed up the pace of this herd as it pushed its way up the grimy stairs and onto the station's main floor, I glanced nervously at my wristwatch. I couldn't believe that this 19th century pianist from Hungary would arrive before I did. Finally in the terminal, I searched the crowd for his face. My piano teacher had told me to look for a long-haired young man holding a composer's baton. If it came down to choosing between two men, he had added, "He might be wearing a cape." There he was, wearing the cape indeed…green velvet!

"Mr. Liszt?" I asked without too much risk of mistaking him for someone else.

"Jean Jacques, I presume, splendid to meet you," he replied shaking my hand.

"So, Sir, I-I mean Mr. Liszt, how was your trip?"

"Rather excellent actually, they played my 'Danse Macabre' in the terminal," he said with delight as he winked at a female passer-by. I recalled that he's said to have been the rock-star of his generation!

"Jean, why don't we stop in one of these cafés and chat, shall we?" he said, strutting into Starbucks. "Two café lattes!" he ordered as we sat out on the terrace, overlooking endless waves of hurried, flustered people, I myself emanating an air of anxiety.

"So, why so uptight, kid?" he asked. I was ready to explain that I had always been musical, having performed on guitar and bass, but never before on piano.

"Well, there's this recital tomorrow, my first ever, and, it's one of your 'Consolations,' num-"

"Number 3?" he interrupted his green eyes illuminating.

"Yes!" How did he know? "How did you know?"

"That's my favorite," he said gently. Slowly, he turned with a smile and gazed ahead. "Jean Jacques, do you know what I was feeling when I played that piece?" he asked. I shook my head. "Exactly!" he looked back at me, "Just as I don't know what Duke Ellington intended me to feel in playing one of his pieces." Duke Ellington?… nevermind. "Jean Jacques, look at these people in front of you," he continued. I listened intently. "They're not thinking about much at all right now, are they? The next few hours of their lives will most likely be all about catching planes and attending the meetings of tomorrow and the day after that and so on: meaningless. Like you, right now, concerned about the recital, about your future. There will be other planes, Jean. That's what the music's about."

Content with his explanation he sipped his drink. I nodded and pretended that everything was clear to me, disregarding the fact that there were no planes in Grand Central, and even the fact that I was drinking coffee with this legendary Romantic composer, but then shook my head in confusion.

"Jean Jacques," he raised an eyebrow at me, "Look, my boy, look again." I did look again, but now I could see only a stream of flushed faces, tired eyes, and heavy steps: all became clear.

"So what you're saying is that there is no time in music only the rhythm of your heartbeat, that music is meant to be scrutinized but its beauty should inspire and provide enchantment." I got more and more worked up. "You're saying that music isn't about hitting the right keys but rather singing that dolcissimo section from my soul. That's what'll overwhelm them with emotion; that's what will knock 'em dead. If I feel it, they'll feel it. If I see that pink sunset on the desolate beach or that longing gaze into a lover's eyes, they'll see it too." I was on my feet now and preaching to the whole café; the herd had stopped running, they put down their belongings and stood listening, mesmerized, spellbound. "That's what gives meaning to music, it's the sublime, endless, lingering, standstill of time, of fear, and when you're in the music, nothing can touch you. To treasure each moment is the most natural thing in the world and, perhaps, the most beautiful. That's what the music's about, each and every second of it…right?" I asked as I played the last few measures of the piece. He smiled a proud smile, tears in his eyes, as he listened to me sing that melody…dolcissimo! And as the crowd ripped into applause, there was nothing left to settle, except, perhaps, the check.