Music… My lifeblood…
When I was a child, my Granny told me the story of my mother’s love of the piano…
She came to her at nine years of age and said… “I want to play the piano, Mama.”
Like any sane Mother of a nine year old, my Granny said something along the lines of… “But? we don’t have one, what should I do? How much do you want to learn the piano..?”
It seems that my mother was a VERY determined little girl…
She taught herself the scales at the church piano.
Then she taught herself some songs… by ear. At the church piano.
By ten years old she could play any song, after hearing it only once.
On the church piano.
The organist took my mother under her wing, and by age eleven, she was playing every Mass song for the entire congregation and they thought it was the usual 50 something organ player.
When she was fourteen, my mother was given the opportunity to play for the most prestigious music school of her time.
She prepared a singularly difficult piece.
Christian Sinding’s “Rustle of Spring”
If you know music, and you look at the music sheet? It’s almost black… It’s full of runs, riffs, and a variety of the most difficult aspects of piano playing for any 4 year student of the instrument to master. At age 13.
Well…? Guess what?
She did. She got into that equivalent of Julliard, back in the day, and…?
If it weren’t for that incident in the back seat of my dad’s Chevy in 1960 just 6 months shy of entering that prestigious school..?
She’d have been a child prodigy and enormously successful.
She wasn’t.
She became a beautician to over-65 ladies with blue hair and a penchant for not washing their hair for over a week because someone else was supposed to do that.
Oh… and 5 girls before she was 28 years old… 7 pregnancies. And a whole lot of heartache.
But?
Every week, on Sunday, instead of going to church with the rest of us… She’d sit at that baby grand piano in the front of the house… and she’d play that song.
And my Granny would say that it was like a prayer offered up in penance… Because she’d squandered her gifts and sacrificed everything because she’d loved someone who didn’t deserve what she offered.
Oh… my Granny… Such a romantic.
What I learned from all those musical sessions was that I wanted to learn how to play too… And I did, for a while.
And then I learned that I needed to step back… I was getting a little good, and I could figure the rest out on my own. So? I did.
And my little sister, who was also VERY good, but needed more guidance, continued.
And her son… Her beautiful, smiling little boy…? He makes original music that haunts my soul…
It’s current, so I cannot play it for you… Not without revealing too much. But? I’ll ask, and if I can, I will put that in a future post… Promise.
Just know? Yeah… Music… It’s just another aspect of the artistry that I hold. With no conceit. It’s just… there.
And for me..? It mostly comes out in my sing along sessions with Jim (Croce)… Billy (Joel)… Gregg (Allman)… And my ultimate favorites… My Eagles… My Lynyrd… My Marshall Tucker…
Oh and CSNY, and Beatles, and James (Taylor) and oh… Fleetwood Mac… STEVIE!!
And many, many more.
Music is a part of my every day. When I’ve gone without it? My soul feels… stifled. Restricted. Not…
Whole…
Like this one…
I would love to let you hear it… But? I cannot in such a public format.
If you want to hear it? Please let me know with notes and what have you, and i will happily link it. Just not on the web, ya know?
