In 1993 I suffered a debilitating stroke that left me semi-paralyzed on the left side of my body. I felt great trepidation and uncertainty about ever returning to the concert stage. Throughout the whole ordeal, my closest friend, Norman Granz, kept in touch with me almost daily, and although he never pressured me to resume playing, his conversation was always in the present tense, appearing to take it for granted that I would continue performing. Throughout all of this I felt nothing but support and love from Norman, not to mention my devoted wife Kelly. Along with these two important people in my life, my new daughter Celine unwittingly played a great role in aiding me on my road to recovery. Almost daily, after breakfast, she would religiously show up at the kitchen table with various forms of games and toys, most of which entailed my having to catch various objects that she would send careening across the table to me, while insisting that I catch them with my left hand. Without realizing it, she was somehow performing her own form of therapy on me. This continued up and through the time for my first concert after the stroke.

It was held in Vienna, and to deny that I hesitated about going out on stage to play would be a lie. As I stood in the wings, I remember the Viking (Niels Pedersen) jokingly remarking that, "I guess I can get you tonight, right?" This only served to ignite whatever competitive fuel I had left in me. Added to this, when I walked out onstage, the audience to a person stood up and gave me a five to seven minute ovation. I became embarrassed, and realized that they had total faith and anticipatory belief that nothing had changed. I charged into the first tune with a vengeance, and could periodically hear both Martin and Niels encouraging me verbally throughout the tune. At its conclusion, the ovation was resumed, and something inside of me told me that I had returned.

At the conclusion of the concert, the Trio took its bows and returned backstage. The ovation went on and on, reinforced by shouting. Niels said to me, "You should go out by yourself," which I did, and then beckoned for the other two members to join me. We played at least two more encores. Finally, we all – the Trio and the audience – realized that the end of the concert had been reached.

As I stood bowing to their applause, I suddenly heard an added swell to their cheers, and as I looked around, saw my little three-year-old daughter Celine coming towards me, weighed down with a huge bouquet of flowers. This was an unforgettable moment for me, and was so moving that the practice of her bringing me flowers at the conclusion of the concerts continued for a few years. She occasionally does this at various times still, when I least suspect, but this was a musical moment that will never leave me.