I admit it. I play the piano. It is something not too many people know about me. My husband and my boys have never heard me really play the piano. They have heard me plink around on it but they have no idea how I really play. I am not as good as the girl who plays at our church but I can play. When you are learning music, you not only learn to play it but you memorize it, feel it, breathe it.
My earliest memories of playing piano were with my grandmother. She would sit down to practice for church (she was the church pianist) and I would sit beside her and plink away. One day she pulled me over and began teaching me the basics. After a while, my parents decided that I was ready for lessons from a real piano teacher.
Mrs. Bartles was my first and favorite teacher. She had the patience of Job and she would let me spend much longer than the allotted 30 minutes for lessons. If there was a piece I was struggling with, she would work with me until I had it down. I developed my love for Beethoven with her. She entered me in several contests and at one point, I placed third in a state competition (duet). Sadly, Mrs. Bartles moved and I went my next teacher.
If I remember right that would have been Mrs. Crosswhite. She was a sweet older lady who admitted after about three lessons that I was beyond what she taught. She was beginning teacher not advanced so we moved on.
Mrs. Bain was next. She was hard. What made it even more difficult for me was that her sons were in my class. If Mrs. Crosswhite was for beginners, then You could say that Mrs Bain was for the highly advanced. I wasn't near the caliber of what most of her students did. I would practice 3-4 hours some days and it still wasn't enough. So when I threatened to quit, my parents found me another teacher.
My last piano teacher (Mrs. Mosher) was great! I think I liked her as much as I did Mrs. Bartles. She pushed me to learn some of the most difficult pieces I had ever tackled. If I hadn't practiced enough, she would know it in a heartbeat, and the lesson was over. "Why waste our time?" She would say. I didn't want to disappoint her so I worked harder than ever. I spent hours practicing. She introduced me to composers that challenged me. She wasn't harsh but when she would praise me, I knew I had achieved a new level of mastery and it made want to go further.
Mrs. Mosher retired from teaching piano around my freshman year. I never had another teacher while I lived at home. I would continue to practice but my heart just wasn't in it as much.
In college, I decided to take a class in piano and see if I could once again work to become the pianist I dreamed of being. The professor there was kind but I was at such an amateurish level, that they didn't really seem to care if I made strides or not.
Performing was and is hard for me. I still get a large case of nerves and my hands shake. I finally gave up my dream of ever playing in front of anyone.
I have my grandmother's piano. It needs to be tuned and repaired. I miss, miss, miss practicing and playing the piano. I don't do it because I don't want to interrupt my family's life, I don't want to bore them, and the constant practicing would drive them nuts. My ultimate dream has always been to have a baby grand piano that I can sit down and play, practice, and perform on. Not the electronic stuff but an actual piano.
I am hoping that when all my kids are grown and gone, I can get the piano I have fixed and I can once again go to my world. I love playing. I feel like I can breathe. It is such a part of my life and I feel like I have had a missing limb for the past 27 years. I look forward to the day I get to do that again.
No comments:
Post a Comment