Piano Lessons

My very wise mother made sure that I, as well as my brothers and sisters, took at least a few piano lessons so we wouldn't be completely illiterate in the world of music. I don't want to point fingers, but I'm afraid some of her money was wasted on a few of us (sorry, little bro). I must confess that I, too, had moments of rebellion as I occasionally posted "I Quit" signs around the house, hoping my mother would reconsider her investment on such a recalcitrant child. Alas, she ignored my pleas for keyboard freedom and for that I am forever grateful. To this day, playing piano is one of my greatest joys.

Not to say that the journey was easy. My first round of lessons began with a short hike from my elementary school once a week to an old two-story house. I was always sure lightning was going to strike me at any moment as I entered the creaky, dimly lit, smoky interior. Mrs. S. had been teaching little Mozartlings for many, many years by the time I arrived on the scene and I think she was beginning to wane in enthusiasm. I handed her my quarter and started what I hoped would be a successful rendition of My Birthday Party from John Thompson's bright red Teaching Little Fingers To Play. Sometimes I performed my lessons with all the finesse of a fourth grader who had practiced before my arrival and other times, it was quite obvious that I had been lax in my obligations. One particular memory involved me struggling away on a piece that I had no love for (Song of the Volga Boatman, ugh) and just as I was about to hit one more misguided note, I saw Mrs. S. reach for my hand and quickly give me a rap on the wrist. I guess she had hit her quota of sour notes for one day and I was the lucky target. Needless to say, I proceeded with caution after that event.

Two more teachers followed Mrs. S. and I learned more than just piano lessons from each of them. Mrs. VB. made sure my sister and I knew how to play piano without looking down at our fingers. We were given a bib-like drape that covered our hands and asked to play one of our pieces for her. This was before Snapchat so there are no pictorial records of such a fashion statement. I think the bib marked the end of one of my sister's musical career, however. I learned that not all of us are born with the same gene for piano practicing. I moved on to the next teacher by myself.

Mrs. St. was my final piano teacher. She introduced me to the incessant and unwavering tick-tock of the metronome. Rhythm is and always will be my nemesis. I prefer a more free-spirited approach to the keyboard, rubato if you please. Despite my protests, I began each lesson with a series of scale repetitions, synchronized with an ever increasing metronome speed. I probably deserved a few raps on the wrist for my feeble attempts in the beginning, but I somehow managed to work my way through a few years of a very disciplined approach to the art of playing piano. I learned that playing Chopin doesn't start with Chopin. It starts with good old-fashioned drill and skill. Lots of it.

I regret that I never took the time to thank my past teachers (and my mother!) enough for their contributions along the way. In fact, I probably did more grumbling than was necessary. Let me say it publicly now.

Thanks, Mrs. S., Mrs. VB., Mrs. St. and Mom for believing that I could make music out of 88 keys. My years of playing for choirs, soloists, church bands and entertaining in nursing homes are the result of a few good women who invested time and money in my future.

D.C. al fine......

One Hundred

Two years ago, on a hot steamy August afternoon, my fingers started moving across my computer keyboard, writing my first blog post. I still have no idea why this happened. I had never entertained the idea of being a blogger and up until that point the number of blogs I had personally read numbered in the low single digits. Truly, I have no business entering into the world of cyberspace writing. But, here I am, fingers still pecking away at a keyboard as I write my one hundredth post.

I suppose this is the part where I announce a grand giveaway drawing for a free harpsichord or curling iron to reward you, my faithful readers, for being a part of my blogging community. Alas, there will be no drawings or free trips from this chick. Be assured, however, that I would love to reward all of you for your words of encouragement and willingness to look the other way when my grammar is less than stellar, my spell check fails me and my love of commas takes over. You are, indeed, a kind group and for that I am grateful.

I am not sure if I have another one hundred posts in me or not. Honestly, after each post I write, I am always quite sure that there will be no more. My muse is a fickle one and I am either inspired by a turn of events or I am staring at a blinking cursor, wondering why nothing is happening after the first sentence. Perhaps it is time for me to buckle down and establish a true focus for my blog (I think that is a Blogging for Dummies basic rule). Here are a few suggested possibilities.

1) Politics--Oh, gag me. I know enough about this subject to fill a tea bag. I am a faithful and loyal voter, but I am not ready to get aboard the HMS Partisanship. It is best for me to let others lead the charge in this arena.

2) Cooking--Intriguing idea due to my love of all things culinary. Unfortunately, I do not have the patience or photography skills to snap a photo of the 38 steps it takes to make dinner. I would also have to start measuring ingredients and that's a deal breaker for now.

3) Travel--ummm, gotta go places for that one. I greatly enjoyed writing my Oregon mini-blog series but once our vehicle was parked in the home garage, it's been back to reality. Work and...and....and....work. Hard to drum up a story with that route.

4) Teaching--certainly rife with new material. It is best, however, for me to keep things a bit more diverse. All work and no play makes Jill a dull girl and sometimes I just need to step off the hamster wheel for a few moments.

5) Old lady stuff--obvious. Doesn't take much thought on my part for my age to seep into my writing. I'm up front about my advancing place on the number line but I'm not sure I want to write a series of blog posts about flu shots and early onset dementia (quite sure I have that one).

6) Arts and Crafts--giggle. I am aesthetically challenged and certainly not known for creating anything more than a dust storm when I finally get around to cleaning. I will continue to admire the works of others.

So, where does that leave the future of my blog? Do I continue to wander in the wilderness of blurred focus? Is it time to shut the whole business down? Is there a lucrative book deal looming on the horizon (another giggle) that will take me away from all of this nonsense?

I suspect my blog will continue as it always has. One post at a time with me still wondering what it is that makes my fingers move across the keyboard.

You have been warned.