Why you should keep on practicing the piano (tell your children)
Because you never know. (Wasn’t that the slogan for the New York Lotto? Hey! Ya never know.)
The story.
The children (and their parents and helpers) of our Friends’ meeting go to an old people’s home once a month to lead a service. Today was the first time we’d ever gone and Ed stayed home to sleep off a migraine and to keep on revising the DD (the Damn Dissertation). So the children and I were in uncharted waters and Daniel’s not so great with new things, especially when, as he said, they smell a little funny.
But we get there okay and everyone is nice and we realize that, logically enough, most of the service is going to be singing. So that’s fine. Singing is good. Only the leader of our little band of Friends forgot to remind the piano player of the group to come along. And everyone was clearly feeling a little unhappy about going a cappella.
I’ll do it, I said, wondering if I’d gone mad. And I did. Not well, but I did it. It helped when I knew the song (How Great Thou Art, anyone?) and when I didn’t — well, I kept on faking it.
But boy. It would have been much better if I practiced occasionally. Still. Lovely part of being a grown up? Not caring so much when you’re not that good at something. Who cares? I made music and people sang.
Last year I was musing about my (lack of) social skills.
Yeah! AND you saved the day. Rock on!
Good for you! Like riding a bike maybe?
My dad always wanted me to learn the piano, but I never did. In the spring we’re buying a piano (we had one before we moved, but couldn’t fit it in the moving van, and couldn’t store it and come back) and our boys are going to take lessons. I’m thinking I want to learn with them. Won’t have ever gotten to play for my dad, but it will make it feel right about it all.
Those old folks couldn’t have cared less if you fudged a few words. They were probably overjoyed to see the young shiny faces.
What a lovely post!!