Music Memories

            I knew I had the right book when I saw “Bill Grogan’s Goat” in John Thompson’s Modern Course for the Piano:  The Second Grade Book.  A few weeks ago when I was sorting through the two boxes of old music that came with the piano I had just purchased, I was sure to put the beginner books in the piano bench.  Tonight I pulled out the Thompson book and started at the first page.

            A flood of memories washed over me as my fingers remembered the notes I had taught myself in elementary school.  I remember the clunky sound of our old upright player piano, which was long past the capability of staying in tune or sustaining any notes.  I remember carefully reading the instructions on each page and following the fingering.  I remember being puzzled when I tried out the sustain pedal and it did not sound any different.  I remember being sad that, according to my mom, the pedals did not work anymore.  Thus, I never learned to use them.

            It seemed a normal enough activity at the time, but now I marvel at my determination that I could teach myself to play just like my mother before me.  An elementary physical education teacher and divorced mother of four, she simply could not afford piano lessons for any of us.  If I remember correctly, I was eight years old when I started my quest.

            I eventually learned to play everything in the first eighteen pages, one song past “Bill Grogan’s Goat.” I worked on some of the later songs, but they were too hard for untutored hands.  And I never took piano lessons, though in college I took two semesters of harpsichord lessons just for fun. 

            So, tonight, as I worked my way through the music my fingers and my heart remember fifty years later, I felt homesick for those long-ago days when I was perched on the piano bench and my feet didn’t reach the floor.  If Mom were still alive, I’d be on the phone right now to tell her all about this evening of music memories.