Piano

A ugust 22, 2020

The journey, started early. Before, I had turned eight. Began, with Ed Sullivan Show. The music. Stars, so great.

At first, was Liberace. But then came, Jerry Lee. Little Richard, fascinated. Influenced, who I’d be.

Piano, was my entry door. With keys, of black and white. Music did more, than entertain. Gave meaning, to my life.

My mother, was a blessing. She understood, my need. Father had doubts, but did agree. I didn’t, have to plead.

A second-hand, piano. Was brought, into our home. I was only, in the third grade. Small hands, on keyboard roamed.

Not as easy, as it looked. But still, I loved it so. Each morning, picked out little tunes. Then off to school, I’d go.

Parents, found me a teacher. Young widow, across town. Weekly lessons, and daily practice. Right notes, finally found.

The first months, went by slowly. My Dad, was not impressed. Reading the music, slowed me down. Endured, this early test.

By Christmas, I could manage. Some light, seasonal songs. But focused, on fundamentals. Still playing, some scales wrong.

At times, it was frustrating. Was more like work, than fun. Took a while, to see real progress. Must walk, before you run.

The target: a “recital.” At end, of the school year. Each student, had a piece to play. We all, had silent fears.

Composition, by Mozart. Challenge, I chose to take. The goal. To play it memorized. Also, without mistakes.

Auditorium, was full. Crowd dressed, in best church clothes. The students, sat down in the front. Then one by one, we rose.

When my turn came, climbed the steps. Grand piano, seemed large. Took a deep breath. Fingers on keys. Into performance, charged.

Played, with enthusiasm. I did, hit one bad note. But kept my focus. Carried on. So proud, in white sport coat.

My Mom, had tears on her cheeks. My Dad, with pride did smile. They’d made sacrifices, for this. Beginning, was a trial.

As years passed, songs were harder. I grew, in many ways. Those recitals, were so special. Each time, better I played.

My senior year, in high school. I peaked, in performance. Through countless, hours of practice, discipline, and patience.

As I look back, upon my life. First step, on my journey. A gift, that came from Mom and Dad. Inspired, by ivory keys

A second-hand, piano.

Was brought, into our home.

I was only, in the third grade.

Small hands, on keyboard roamed.