Piano Time

I have been blessed with a talent. I have played the piano since I was four years old. My paternal grandmother was a piano teacher. The price was right: free. She began teaching each of the five of us kids. My younger sister and I stuck with it longer than the others. She stopped taking lessons after two years. I continued lessons until I was fifteen. When I was fifteen my father's company transferred him from New Jersey to Pennsylvania.

My grandmother moved out to California a few years after we did. No longer needing lessons, I would visit her at my uncle's house, where she was living. I would play familiar pieces and she would listen to me practice. I saw her close her eyes and nod her head, to the tempo of the music, with that "knowing she loves me" smile. I knew my Nanny was getting older. She was no longer able to live independently. It took a long time (and lots of gas in my car) to drive there to see her, but I knew being there gave her joy. What precious memories I have of those visits with my beloved Nanny.

The majority of music I play is classical. The picture of the piano above is exactly like the one I owned for a dozen years. My children were five and seven years old when I was at the peak of my adult playing. My son would walk to the living room with his favorite blanket, crawl underneath, and let the sound put him to sleep.

There were many occasions to play for others. One huge event, though, was accompanying my group of girls from a fraternal organization. We were invited to open Neal Sedaka's concert in Concord, California on the Fourth of July around 1973. The girls sang "I'm a Yankee Doodle Dandy," while wearing straw hats. It is an outside stage venue. The day was warm with a nice breeze. I was shaking like a leaf, culminating in the tentative walk across the stage to the piano.

We completed our number, stood for the Pledge of Allegiance, and left the stage to a huge round of applause. There went my fifteen minutes of fame.

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