The Littlest Missionaries
If you don’t want to hear about Rick’s precocity, you’d better steer clear of us. Reaching only to the level of hyperbole customarily allowed to parents of gregarious firstborn children, we’ll tell you that he read to anybody who would listen, that he conducted the music (usually to records), and that he actually performed on the Mission’s grand piano. Well, almost—this shot of Pappy’s was pure grandparental setup, and Rick’s considerable instrumental skills would come later and would cluster primarily in the string section.
I’ve put his sackbut story in the account of our Christmas visit in 1967, although I’m not at all sure it didn’t happen a year later.

Neglected to note that our attempts to steer Rick into bilinguality pretty much flopped: all he learned on the Quai d’Orsay was “Petit cochon, va! (Get out of here, little pig!)”

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