A story of gratitude—the author specifies three dates which marked the life of a Filipino musician and of his Canadian teacher.
BY Huguette Turcotte, M.I.C.

OCTOBER 29 1953

The China Mail ship enters the Port of Manila. Two Missionary Sisters of the Immaculate Conception disembark; it is the beginning of an intriguing story. Sr. Cécile Kirouac goes south to St. Michael's Academy of Padada and I take over the Music Department, as Directress, at our Immaculate Conception Academy of Manila (ICAM).

Some days later, I welcome a Filipina mother with her five-year-old son. She wants to enroll him for piano lessons. According to me, he is too young; though I firmly discuss the matter with Mrs. Quirit, she insists: His father is a violinist and he has detected that his son Julian has musical talent. A bit unsure, I decide to try the experience—it would be a mistake to refuse my first student in the Philippines.

I soon become aware that I have before me a child who is gifted with a perfect pitch ear. Julian has barely learned to read the notes and a few pages of the piano method when he starts transposing in other tonalities his small pieces in the key of 'C' all on white keys. Without hesitation he places his fingers anywhere on the keyboard and slides them on the black keys according to the melody. For him, the sounds, the rhythm, are like a game. I promise myself never to discourage this little prodigy and to make him love music even though I need much patience in obliging him to read the notes instead of improvising as he wills. One month later, on November 22nd at the annual Saint Cecilia Concert, Julian stands on the podium directing with great assurance the Toy Orchestra; he looks like an experienced conductor.

After two years, Julian leaves ICAM and attends another school where he studies violin. His remarkable success is laudable and he is commended for his extraordinary talent. We keep in contact; whenever he has news about his concerts and achievements he sends me photos with his signature: Your Little Julian. In 1965, while I am in Canada, I learn that he has obtained a grant from the First Lady of the Philippines, Mrs. Imelda Marcos. Therefore, he is continuing his music studies at the Juilliard School in New York City, one of the world's most prestigious performing arts conservatories. I then lose track of him.

JUNE 2 2007

A former ICAM student, Vivian de la Rosa, who migrated to the United States, decides to produce a DVD of her Alma Mater; for this purpose, she asks me to lend her some old photos. By chance, I include a 1953 picture of Julian Quirit conducting the Toy Orchestra. Vivian knows of his fame and career; she therefore writes me: Do you know that he has become a well-known international violinist and he is the conductor of the Philharmonic Orchestra in Melbourne, Australia? I will inform him that I have found his first music teacher. A few days later, I receive a love letter via my E-mail address. It is my little Julian of yesteryears, now a well-known artist expressing his joy of knowing that I am still alive in Canada. He writes: I always dreamt that one day I would be able to tell you that I owe my career to you because you have taught me to love music. He goes on describing his music and career paths since my departure from his country and concludes his letter with a pleasant surprise for me. He projects coming to Montreal in the course of the year 2008.

SEPTEMBER 19 2008

Julian's intention is to come give a violin recital in homage to his first professor. The program—eight classical masterpieces which I receive by E-mail from Melbourne. Returning from a trip to Europe, Julian and Minerva, his wife, make a stopover in Montreal. It is September 19—I have the great joy of welcoming the couple at our convent in Pont-Viau, Laval. In 1953 Julian knew me as a young Nun, wearing the religious habit and known as Sr. Marie-Pia. Would he recognize the elderly woman whose hair has become white and is now called by a new name? And what about little Julian who is now at the dawn of his sixtieth year? It is an incredible emotional encounter, difficult to describe…

In the afternoon, Julian presents himself and Mr. Balan, my Romanian friend, pianist, to the audience. He explains the goal of his visit to Montreal: that of being an expression of gratitude to his first music teacher and to thank all the Missionary Sisters of the Immaculate Conception who established schools in his country. He then begins his recital during which the silent atmosphere becomes a sacred space. The audience is deeply moved by the beauty and clarity of the sounds, by the artist's capacity to transmit his feelings; with his eyes closed he is visibly drawn into another world, one of harmony and grace. Emotionally touched, tears well up more than once as I listen and reminisce over his long music journey—from the time his mother begged me to take him as a young boy in Manila, followed by years of intensive training which led him to the summit of his international fame. Upon his request, I accompany him for a last piece. Mrs. Quirit records this unique concert which she will later send me on DVD from Melbourne, as a souvenir of the special event. At the end of the recital, pointing out to the audience the photos which are on a table, Julian states: As you can see, I was destined to become a maestro and I had my first lesson at 5 years of age with Sr. Marie-Pia. He was recalling his early concert experience at ICAM when he conducted the Toy Orchestra in 1953.

Such an expression of gratitude toward his former teacher, whom he says influenced his orientation in music, was for me an unforgettable tribute. To you, Little Julian, a wholehearted THANK YOU.