Listening to Puccini’s La Bohème, “My Name Is Mimì,” revives memories of a year immersed in classical music via NHK-FM, treasured LPs by Renata Tebaldi, painful yet formative high-school days, Musetta’s Waltz, a concert by Mariko Senju, and the first live encounter with a Stradivarius. A quiet reflection on music and memory.
Date: January 16, 2026

As I work, I am listening to a carefully curated classical music channel on continuous playback.
Puccini’s La Bohème, “My Name Is Mimì,” began to play.
I was struck by a profound sense of nostalgia.
As I have written before, there was a year in my life when I listened to classical music on NHK-FM from morning until night, every single day.
Spending what little money I had, I bought a lavishly boxed LP of La Bohème by Renata Tebaldi, who at the time was spoken of in the same breath as Maria Callas, and I listened to it almost every day.
My favorite piece was Musetta’s Waltz.
When I was working as a business executive, a department manager at a major real estate company with whom I was close once said to me,
“Kisara-san, you like music, don’t you? Our company will be holding a Christmas concert by Mariko Senju at Symphony Hall as a customer appreciation event. If you like, we would be honored to invite you.”
“Gladly,” I replied.
That was my return to attending a classical concert after a long hiatus.
It was a truly wonderful time.
As I listened that day, the outline of an entire book passed through my mind like fleeting images.
When she played Musetta’s Waltz as the encore, it made the concert all the more memorable.
Incidentally, although I had always been devoted to the piano, that day was the first time I heard a Stradivarius live.
I was deeply moved by its magnificent sound.
I am truly grateful to the curated classical music channel.
Nako-san—Nako-chan as well—is a woman worthy of great admiration.
For the sake of this post, I searched YouTube, attached a recording, and began listening again, unable to hold back my tears.
At the time, I felt she was even more wonderful than Callas.
Now, I think of the two as equal giants, with no hierarchy between them, differing only in timbre and vocal color.
The beauty of her sound instantly carried me back to my high-school days.
Those were difficult years, marked by family misfortune, when I listened to that LP every day in a study room I had built by converting a warehouse, and those days suddenly came vividly back to me.