When I was, I don't know, seven or eight, my Mama decided we were all going to take piano lessons. Me, my sisters, and she herself. Daddy bought us a big old upright piano, and Mama contracted with a local piano teacher, Mrs Rogers (Mrs. Roy Rogers, actually), to teach us all to play (see photo below*). I think her fee was 50 cents a lesson, if I recall correctly.
I was just tickled pink. I thought this was a wonderful idea. I could just see me playing all kinds of tunes, entertaining the heck out of everyone. I couldn't wait to get started.
Well, that feeling lasted just until I found out that becoming an entertainer would require lots of work in the form of PRACTICE--30 minutes a day. Do you know how long 30 minutes is to an eight-year-old? If's forever--especially when you're doing something you don't like to do, like scales and stuff.
I hated the piano, and told my Mama so. She was not in the least moved. For seven long years--in spite of tears, tantrums, threats, promises, and I don't know what all--I remained a student of the piano. I even begged Mrs. Rogers (Mrs. Roy Rogers) at one point to tell Mama that I didn't have any talent and ask her to let me stop taking. I don't remember if she spoke to Mama about this or not, but I know for a fact that Mrs. Rogers agreed with my assessment of my talent. I was quite a frustration for her, this lady in her menopausal years. I remember that when she would have me attempt a piece several times with no appreciable success, she would grab my fingers and force them onto the proper keys. It hurt too. And was embarrassing, and my hatred of the piano grew.
And I remember recitals. We'd dress up in our prettiest dresses (pastel organdy, made by Mama and scratchy as heck) and gather in Mrs. Rogers' living room on a Sunday afternoon. All the parents came to hear their little dears perform. What I remember best about these recitals is the little chicken salad sandwiches that Mrs. Rogers served and the fact that I was terrified and always hit at least one or two wrong keys. Oh, and the curtsy--we always had to curtsy after we had performed.
Sometimes I'm sorry I didn't take piano more seriously. I can barely pick out Middle C now. Those seven years of paying Mrs. Rogers 50 cents a lesson, twice a week, were wasted on me, and I often regret that. Or at least I thought I did until I was rummmaging around in our local thrift store last week and came across a copy of my very first piano book (see photo above).
It was like I'd seen a ghost, or a horrible wreck on the interstate. I broke out in a cold sweat and started gasping for breath. After I had recovered my composure and assured myself that I was not back in the 50s, I grabbed the book, paid the cashier $1 (it probably didn't cost that much when Mama bought it new for me), and ran out of the store, thinking to bring the evil thing home and bury it. But when I got home I got to leafing through the pages, discovering the book's power to instill in me not just horror, but also some pretty pleasant nostalgia too. The only piece I remember is this one, "Lightly Row."
In fact, I remember it so well that my fingers can actually pick out the positions on my desk top.
So I think I'll keep the book for a while. Who knows? Maybe I'll even take up the piano again. I might still be an entertainer yet.
*After posting this entry, I remembered a photo of Mrs. Roy Rogers. I had no idea whether or not I'd be able to find it, as I hadn't seen it in years. But, strangely, I went right to the box where it was stored. So there she is, the menopausal lady herself.
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On 05/25/2007, Terri said ...
Seeing that book cover, reminded me that I have some of my mom's old piano books tucked away somewhere. I should look for them some day.
On 05/25/2007, Rian said ...
I could have written this post. How I wish I'd practiced and stayed with it. I still think I'd like to get a keyboard and take it up again, but I know me...
On 05/29/2007, Debra Spincic said ...
I begged for lessons when I was growing up but we were a military family and could not afford a piano or had the weight allowance for moving one. How I admired those who got to take lessons! isn't it funny how that works? I loved your post!
On 05/29/2007, Diane said ...
Beautiful story, so well told.
Thanks.
On 05/31/2007, Cheri said ...
Oh, that cover brings back memories for me, too! I learned to play piano from the John Thompson series and I still have the books. Thanks for sharing, I enjoyed your memory.
Cheri
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