On the last day of school before summer vacation, Mrs. Cronin allowed her second grade students to bring their pets to class. There were hissing cats and slobbering dogs, parakeets and goldfish, a reluctant hamster, and two rabbits, one black and one white. In amongst all the hustle and bustle stood Theodore balancing his ant farm. The other kids bent down to examine the Plexiglas container and frowned.

      In third grade, while they were learning about circuses, Miss Hamilton suggested that everyone construct a carnival diorama over the weekend. On Monday, there were liquor boxes, shoeboxes, and even one refrigerator box filled with paintings, wire figurines, and paper mâché sculptures depicting lions, tigers, elephants, trapeze artists, clowns, and a black seal balancing a red striped ball on its nose. And then there was Theodore’s contribution.

      Theodore placed an old wooden matchbox on Miss Hamilton’s desk. Inside was one piece of sawdust, which he had collected from the stall of a neighbor’s horse.

      Years later, he went to the Pratt Art Institute, majored in sculpture, pursued music on the side, and introduced himself simply as T. There, he made his first entry into the public consciousness through music. His initial two concertos received warm critical reviews and modest enthusiasm from the public. The biggest consequence of these two pieces was that they drew the attention of Elvira Demitasse, a feisty, high-octane, sharp-elbowed, New York agent. She shared T’s diminutive stature, being only four-ten, but that was the only thing small about her. After graduating, T’s music increasingly folded in on itself, and Elvira secured him ever-larger stages on which to shrink.