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As a 12-year-old pianist, I played for my sister, a violinist, at lessons and recitals where her teacher acknowledged my natural accompanying abilities. I didn't recognize them until the evening our parents invited us to play for their guests. With my sister's upward sniff, things were off to a fine start until my score awkwardly fell to the floor, drawing all eyes towards me. Deftly, I kept one hand at the keyboard, continuing to accompany my sister, as my other hand reached to the floor to retrieve the score. My parents and their company described their relief following that tense moment, amazed that I never left my sister without support. It also affirmed something I ...