Notes of Generosity
Orchestras do not run on rehearsals and rosin alone. They run on people.
Throughout March, we are highlighting the individuals and families whose generosity sustains TRYPO. Some underwrite lessons. Some strengthen scholarships. Some invest in conductors and artistic leadership. Some make sure that every student deserves a seat and a stand.
These are the Notes of Generosity that keep the music going.
First up: a story about a legacy, instinct, and a lifelong love of music.
What a Life of Music Can Look Like
Honoring Richard and Margaret Oswant
In December, Pittsburgh-native Rachel Cupcheck reached out after reading about TRYPO in the paper.
She doesn’t have a child in our program. She didn’t grow up in one of our ensembles. What she did have was a fund her parents had established, and after their passing, she wanted to direct it somewhere meaningful.
She told me she had been moved by what she read about our students and our mission. Something about it felt right. So she reached out to learn more.
As Rachel told me about her parents and the role music played in their lives, it became clear that this was not just about making a gift. It was about honoring a way of living and finding a way to pay it forward.
No, I’m not crying. It’s pollen season. 🥹
When someone reads about TRYPO and feels moved to honor their parents here, it stops you in your tracks. It’s a reminder that the work we do truly reaches people — and that it matters in ways we don’t always see.
We say to TRYPO students all the time that we do not care if you become a professional musician. We care that music matters to you. That it stays. That it shapes how you move through the world.
Listening to Rachel describing her parents singing, volunteering, studying opera programs, showing up to concerts into their 90s, I realized: this is the long game.
I asked Rachel if she would share a few reflections about her parents and why she chose TRYPO. Here are her words.
A Daughter’s Tribute
By Rachel Cupcheck
When I think about my parents, Richard “Dick” and Margaret “Peggy” Oswant, I think about a home that was always filled with music.
There was almost always something playing: Pittsburgh Symphony broadcasts on the radio, Saturday afternoons with the Metropolitan Opera, Rodgers and Hammerstein soundtracks, a John Philip Sousa march that somehow turned into a parade through the living room. Music wasn’t reserved for special occasions; it was simply part of life.
My parents were lifelong Pittsburghers who deeply loved the arts. Both Mom and Dad sang with the Pittsburgh Savoyards and volunteered with the Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra and Pittsburgh Opera. Dad also sang with the Tom Fallon Singers and appeared as a supernumerary with the Opera. Dad coordinated the Shadyside Concert Series and Mom proof-read the programs. They were longtime symphony subscribers and continued attending performances well into their 90s, studying librettos before operas and talking about each performance afterward. Music was something they shared with each other and with their community.
Neither of my parents were professional musicians. Dad carried his clarinet from high school into adulthood, playing for the joy of it rather than the stage, while my mom played guitar in her younger years, music something they both kept close but never pursued professionally. My father served overseas in World War II as a First Lieutenant in the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers, later teaching English and working in marketing communications and nonprofit fundraising, while my mom devoted herself to our home and family as a homemaker. Music wasn’t their career; it was something that quietly enriched their lives and filled our home.
They encouraged all three of their children to learn an instrument and invested in lessons for us. Looking back, I am grateful for the foundation they provided us.
After my parents passed away, I was entrusted with directing a fund they had established. As I considered how best to honor them, I kept returning to the role music played in their lives. Supporting young musicians felt like a natural extension of their values. Through this fund, five TRYPO students are receiving a full year of private lessons this season, 240 lessons in total, through the Musicians’ Assistance Fund.
Private lessons are where students deepen their skills and build confidence. If there is one thing I hope these students carry forward, it is the understanding that music does not have to be a profession to be meaningful. It can be a lifelong companion, something you return to again and again.
Music enriched my parents’ lives at every stage. I am grateful that, in their memory, it will continue to enrich the lives of young musicians today.
“I am a student at TRYPO. I recently learned that my private lessons this season are being supported through a fund created in honor of your parents…Private lessons have helped me grow not only as a player, but as a musician overall. I have learned how to think more deeply about phrasing, tone, and musical expression, instead of just playing the notes on the page. Because of that, I’ve grown more confident in rehearsals and performances… Playing my instrument means a lot to me because it gives me a way to express emotions that are hard to explain in words. Music has become such an important part of my life… Thank you for supporting young musicians like me.” – TRYPO Student, age 14
“I recently learned that your parents, Richard and Margaret, created the fund that has made my private lessons this season possible through TRYPO Musicians Fund… [My instrument] is more than an instrument to me. It is how I challenge myself, how I grow, and how I express things I could never put into words. Each lesson pushes me further than I thought I could. I am so moved to know that your parents loved music deeply and that you chose to honor their memory by giving students like me the chance to keep learning. That generosity is something I will never forget, and I hope the music I make reflects how much it means to me.” – TRYPO Student, age 9
Students: You’re Here
Right now, TRYPO students are somewhere near the beginning of their musical timelines.
They are in rehearsal blocks and practice rooms, figuring out how to fix something instead of avoid it. They are discovering that improvement does not happen by accident. Most of them are studying privately. All of them are building skills that stretch far beyond a single concert cycle.
We do not know where music will take them. Some of them may pursue it professionally; many of you will not. That is not the point. The point is that music can become part of who they are. It can follow them into adulthood, connect them to community, give them language when words fall short, and stay with them through college, careers, families, and decades.
Richard “Dick” and Margaret “Peggy” Oswant show us one version of that life – a life where music never left, concerts were shared experiences, where singing did not stop with age, and showing up for the arts was simply part of being human.
That is the long game. You do not know yet what your coda will look like. That is okay. The long game of music is not about a single performance. It is about what stays with you long after the applause fades.
Music does not age. It deepens.
Written by Lindsey Nova, Executive Director
Check out these photos over the years of Richard “Dick” and Margaret “Peggy” Oswant!
