In my previous essay I spoke of watching for whales when I spotted a hat.

It begged for a photo, so I stopped and asked the young lady beneath it, “Do you mind if I take a photo of your hat?”

She didn’t mind at all.

So, as she sipped her coffee, I told her what I do, and she told me what she does.

Jenny Feygin teaches piano to children, but she started out as a lawyer.

I liked that.

Jenny was born in Moscow; life was tough there, she said. Stones were thrown at her dad, her mom wasn’t allowed to attend law school; all because they were Jews. Her family came to America in a refugee program when she was six.

When her teacher pronounced her name Yevgeniya in Lawrence, NY, it came out Jenny—so Yevgeniya kept Jenny.

Many years later, Jenny now lives in Long Beach with her husband, Avi, and her six-year-old daughter, Melody (of course).

She told me about her early life. Her mom played piano; Jenny started playing at six. She didn’t hate it but didn’t love it then either. She wanted to play outside, as did most kids.

But at sixteen, she met a piano teacher, Victor.

She said Victor “loved music so much that when he spoke of it, you could see a look in his eyes that he was somewhere else.”

Jenny’s family always had musical parties, and people would bring their instruments and share their work. Jenny said, “Victor, at that point, was part of the family.” She said, “Victor would ask for your phone number, and from the sounds your phone would make as you tapped the numbers in and the vibes he got from you, he would compose a melody. He would grow it and grow it until it became a symphony. It was incredible.”

Sadly, Victor died a couple of years ago.

At least that’s what Jenny said.

But as you can see, Victor lives on through the tapped-in memories Jenny has of him: the somewhere-else look in his eyes as he spoke of music, the magic he created with musical phone pings. People make a difference in others, one bond at a time. They live on and on—like a pedal point in a piano piece.

Jenny drifted away from music for a while, but at HAFTR school in Cedarhurst, she saw pianos again and wanted to play.

The school psychologist heard her and asked if Jenny could teach her daughter. Jenny said yes. That started Jenny along the river of music that flowed within her.

Others started calling and asking for lessons. She now had a side job teaching piano and didn’t have to work as a waitress or babysitter, as did many of her friends.

Next was Queen’s College for Jenny, and she studied abroad in Italy.

Jenny’s mom became a yoga instructor. She urged Jenny to get into it, as it would help relieve the stress of the next step—law school.

So, Mom sent Jenny off to a two-week intensive yoga camp in Manhattan.

Jenny said, on the train station platform, “My mom is like sobbing saying goodbye,” as she sent her off. Jenny said she had noticed a guy nearby with a law book who had seen the whole thing. Aboard the train, he asked her, “I’m curious, are you going away for a lot of years?” Jenny laughed as she told me her response to him, ” I said I’m going for ten days. And he’s like, ‘I went abroad to study in Isreal for a year, and my parents did not give me a goodbye like that.'” He spent the entire train ride trying to talk her out of going to law school. He wasn’t the only one who tried.

But Jenny did go to law school, St. John’s Law School. She wanted to be an entertainment lawyer; she heard about it through a friend, which sounded fantastic. She imagined fun meetings and interviews while traveling to cool countries.

But after she graduated, she found herself working as in-house counsel in a cubicle, filling out papers all day. About entertainers? Jenny said, “We saw some passing through the office, but you’re mainly meeting with their managers.”

Jenny said she met many unhappy lawyers; most of her law class didn’t continue in law; they migrated to various businesses.

Jenny tried passing the bar but never did; her heart wasn’t in it. She said, “I wasn’t even going to take the bar; I wanted to help artists get started, get placements, and get where they are supposed to go.” She said, “Peer pressure caused me to take the bar: ‘You’ll get more opportunities’…”

Jenny has performed as a pianist in the US, Italy, Switzerland, and Greece as well as extensively all over New York City. (from Pianyoga.)  She’s on Facebook. She’s on Instagram.

Jenny said, “Everybody is exactly where they are meant to be.”

She said, “I’m glad I didn’t pass the bar because if I passed it, I would have worked even harder looking for something else.” She said, “When I was trying to pass the bar while working for these (entertainment law) people, my piano teaching business really took off. I was teaching about thirty to forty kids a week. I was doing concerts with the kids.”

Jenny said, “We were having a great time; I think a teacher is a very important figure in a child’s life.” She said many of her students don’t want to go to college; they want to stay with music.” Many of them did, and she said, “About a dozen became piano teachers.” Jenny flashed the smile we often do when we realize accomplishments. She said, “Isn’t that crazy?”

Enjoy some of Jenny’s beautiful musical art on her YouTube site.

About family, Jenny said, “I think we all get trapped into doing things they tell us to do.” She said, “When you are young, go to school, do your homework, get a good job, but it’s not true. College is not for everybody. Just like getting married is not for everybody or having kids is not for everybody, but that’s what they tell you. I have a daughter, now she’s in kindergarten, and I’m trying really hard that she doesn’t fall into this trap. She just turned six, her name is Melody, she plays piano and violin. I study it with her. My husband is an oral surgeon.”

So many professionals love what they do and enjoy successful careers. But, making the wrong career choice for money or prestige is like trapping one’s passion in a birdcage.

Too many professionals hate what they do. It’s a drudge they committed to, and they can’t find the courage to escape the cage they find themselves in. Sadly, their passion has to wait to soar—if ever. That’s sad for them and those engaging in their committed service.

I saw the same passion in Jenny as in others I wrote about, as in The Gift. They, like Jenny, chose career happiness.

Jenny says her life is a blast, and if she stayed in law, her life would be boring. She said, “At law, I felt my life was being slowly drained out of me.”

She said, “Now I come home energized.”

One evening, Jenny and her husband celebrated their anniversary at Long Island’s Oheka Castle. A cellist playing next to their table impressed Jenny. They chatted, and he asked if she’d like to play the nearby piano, and she did. The cellist, James Acampora, and Jenny worked on different professional projects afterward.

Yes, dear readers, Jenny was like a bird aching to escape her career cage. Her passion, too strong for any cage to contain it, helped her to fly.

Now, she teaches children to earn wings so that some might fly just as she did. Jenny’s students will perform at a recital on June 20th at the Long Beach Public Library. Jenny and tap dancer Jill Kenney will perform as well.

So, instead of the din of pounding keys from a law office cubicle, our little blue planet is blessed with the fantastic sounds of The Arrival of the Birds by Jenny Feygin and James Acampora.

Be well,

Leebythesea