the piano

My aunt and uncle were both piano and voice teachers so guess who started tickling the ivories before school?  I can still remember that from their St John days.  They taught me until sixth grade where I was handed over to Mrs. Charlene Fisher and failed miserably.  Hey...I was a teenager.  

So I quit taking lessons and practicing until the opportunity came around to buy one for 200 bucks.  Jason had learned to play on it and Uncle Jim said it was a great deal so there we went.  Jason died as a young teen with leukemia.  I remember visiting him once at St. Jude.  

So the piano got tuned and I played my little heart out for years, dusting and rearranging things on the top with the mirror.  I played some of the old classical sheet music and remembered how I learned from them.  And I wore out the United Methodist hymnal.  Spirit Song is my favorite.  

Eventually with new flooring came a need to move the giant thing OUT of Casa Poops to a new home and I found just the one, Ms Nancy.  Her family hauled it out, Cooper tuned it and she practiced for her gigs at the evening services.  There have been many times I've sat at that piano in the sanctury down by the family room.  Only there wasn't a family room then.  I froze at the keyboard while the organ played on at that particular service where Ms Charlene told me "you can do this."  I did not.

I should play again.  I'd think it would be good therapy, hmm?