Piano lessons

Every once in awhile I get to listen to Selected Shorts on NPR, where famous short stories are read by actors. It's always a good listen. The one last Sunday night was called Simple Exercises for the Beginning Student by Alex Ohlin. It was about an 8-year-old boy whose parents were having marital problems, but he found solace in taking piano lessons. The descriptions of the piano teacher, the way she wrote out the pieces he was to practice that week in very meticulous handwriting in a little notebook he kept, the nervousness of the boy as he realized how little he had practiced all week..all of this brought back so many memories.

I really feel like I should be thumped in the head sometimes for squandering away the gift my grandparents gave me (they paid for my lessons) for nine years. I don't really remember if I liked taking piano or not. I know I didn't practice enough, just the bare minimum to get by at the next lesson. I was always really nervous before recitals, and once completely went blank about halfway through a piece. I'll never forget that music, or how horrible that moment was. I paused for what seemed like hours to me (it was probably only seconds), went back and started again and made it through the second time. I guess I had many recital experiences that were pretty good, but it's always the bad moments you remember more.

I remember wishing I could write in cursive the way my teacher, Mrs. Sills, did. She was so patient with me, and even though I'm sure she knew I didn't practice very much, she never said anything more severe than, "I hope you'll practice more this week,." when it came time for me to leave. The piano was in her very formal living room, and it was always so quiet in her house. I remember that the next student would come in and sit on the sofa waiting for me to finish, and I would think, "Ha ha-you've still got to do your lesson, but I'm almost finished and get to go home." I think the lessons were hard for me to get through because I knew on some level that I was disappointing her - not living up to my potential.

I've seen Mrs. Sills occasionally through the years and once she asked me if I still played. I was so embarrassed to tell her not really. I think if I had a piano I would play. When I think about it now I wish I would have practiced and paid attention more. I heard recently that Mrs. Sills was ill, and I said a little prayer for her.