Piano prodigy Ryan Wang hosted a special private concert for a very special admirer, 101-year-old Dorothy Landry, several months after dazzling audiences on “The Ellen Show” and performed at the esteemed Carnegie Hall. Ryan performed a touching recital of “Variations on an Inner Mongolian Folk Song” exclusively for Landry at the age of five, organized by Canadian digital music distributor CBC Music.
Dorothy, who has been a fan of Ryan’s since he was three, was unable to fully enjoy the performance at one of his previous concerts because of hearing issues. CBC Music realized this and arranged a private concert to provide her with a more intimate musical experience.
The small scene showed Dorothy in her wheelchair with Ryan sitting next to her, his feet hanging above the floor and his hands gripping a big teddy bear, both signs of his youth. Both of them were obviously moved by the concert; Ryan expressed how much he enjoyed performing for “Grandma Dorothy” and how it made her happy.
In return, Dorothy called Ryan a “very special little person” and expressed excitement about his upcoming performances.
She expressed her gratitude to Ryan and sincerely asked that he come see her again following his impending trip to China. This special musical relationship emphasizes the value of generational relationships and the universality of music.
My neighbor pelted my car with eggs because he claimed it obstructed the view of his Halloween decorations
When sleep-deprived mom Genevieve discovers her car covered in eggs, she thinks it’s a prank — until her smug neighbor Brad admits he did it because her car was ruining the view of his elaborate Halloween display. Furious but too exhausted to argue, Genevieve vows to teach him a lesson.
I was bone-tired, the kind of tired where you can barely remember if you’ve brushed your teeth or fed the dog.
My days had become a blur since the twins were born.
Don’t get me wrong, Lily and Lucas were my adorable darlings, but wrangling two newborns mostly by myself was a Herculean task. I hadn’t slept a full night in months. Halloween was just around the corner and the neighborhood buzzed with excitement, but not me.
I could hardly muster the energy to decorate, let alone keep up with the suburban festivities.
Then there was Brad.
The man took Halloween so seriously that you’d think his life depended on it. Every year, he turned his house into a haunted carnival complete with gravestones, dioramas of skeletons, huge jack-o’-lanterns, the works.
And the smug look on his face every time someone complimented him? Please.
His spectacle enamored the entire block. But me? I was too busy trying to keep my eyes open to care about Brad’s ridiculous haunted house.
It was a typical October morning when everything started to unravel.
I shuffled outside with Lily on one hip and Lucas cradled in my arm. I blinked at the sight before me. Somebody had egged my car! Broken bits of shell were stuck in the semi-congealed goo, which was dripping down the windshield like some twisted breakfast special.
“Are you kidding me?” I muttered, staring at the mess.
I had parked in front of Brad’s house the night before. It’s not like I had much choice. The twins’ stroller was impossible to push all the way from down the street, so I’d parked close to our door.
At first, I thought it had to be a prank. But when I noticed the egg splatters reached all the way to Brad’s front porch, my suspicion turned into certainty.
This had Brad written all over it.
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