No, Lucy, you canna do the show!

So says Ricky Ricardo, repeatedly, to his wife Lucy in the classic television show, I Love Lucy. Lucy considers herself to be talented and desires very much to be a part of her musician husband's nightclub act. Ricky, however, is quite aware of his wife's zany antics and refuses her requests. Appropriate scheming and hilarity always ensue, resulting in a most entertaining bit of TV.

In real life we are often told, "You canna do the show!" And it doesn't really matter how much we want it. Years ago I taught music at a small state university. We had a handful of talented music majors. The rest were in the program so we could fatten our ranks and justify the existence of a tiny music department. When I realized students were going deeply into debt for a useless degree, my conscience compelled me to speak. I told a new vocal performance major, "You should change majors. You will never work in the music profession. In fact, you will not be accepted into any graduate voice program." To my utter surprise, instead of expressing gratitude at my honesty, she burst into tears and said, "It's my right to major in whatever I want," then promptly went to the president of the university and complained about me. Two things were readily apparent; number one, one of us didn't understand the constitution very well, number two, the other one of us was going to have a very short academic career. You decide which was which.

Life doesn't owe us anything. We are fed a constant diet of feel-good platitudes, such as "Follow your dreams." Or "Do what you love." Or "If you want it, you can achieve it." There's certainly nothing wrong with dreaming. If you want to be an outstanding science teacher, good for you! But if you want to be the next Broadway star, great opera singer, comedian, or host of the Tonight Show, your chances of being told, "You canna do the show!" have become a near certainty. The odds are not in your favor, however talented you may be.

I have learned that it is a far, far better thing to follow life's path for you, love what you are given, and want what you have. For years my dream was to win the Pulitzer Prize for music. But life intervened. Instead of composing the next great symphony, I found myself composing songs for children, such as What a Girl! from my children's opera Tom Sawyer. Instead of winning the Pulitzer Prize I won "Parent Volunteer of the Year" for the Clovis, New Mexico school district. Instead of performing for hundreds at Carnegie Hall I taught hundreds of piano lessons in Fayetteville, North Carolina.

The 2014 Pulitzer Prize for Music went to John Luther Adams, a fine and accomplished composer. Have you heard of him? Hundreds of school children in Clovis have never heard of him, either. But they know Mrs. Duke, and they have sung her music, and will hopefully go on into adulthood loving music because of her work. Jamie Baum received the Guggenheim Award for music composition in 2014. Do you know her music? Dozens of piano students in Fayetteville don't, either. But they know Miss Charis and her passion for music and will hopefully share that passion with their children someday.

If you've been told, "You canna do the show!" let go and accept the new road. I have no Pulitzer Prize, but I still won.

Lucille Ball and Ricky Ricardo