The Return of the Piano

Time has flown past and I haven't dropped in to post a little reflection. Whats going on with me? Well, first things first, I got back my PIANO!! I am so excited, thrilled, thankful. See, when I moved, my mother gave the piano to her friends. That was ten years ago. They told me during a visit last summer that the piano was still mine, I could retrieve it whenever. Now get this, they even kept all my original piano books, notes, drawing, writings, everything, in the piano seat. How special is that? Well my piano teacher, Mr. Earl Bethea, who was also a music teacher and Professor at Hochstein Music School, but taught lessons on the side, dies several years ago. This is all I had to remember thos 9 years of sitting in his immaculate house, with small Mozart busts, and beautiful art, baby grand pianos and exquisite antique furniture and receiving training. He was strict, but when I accomplished something, a comment from an expert and perfectionist, and wonderfully talented man like him meant the world. There were times, after hard parental evenings and mornings, when lessons in his house were the only stable sane thing. He would look in my face, rub my back, treat me a little more comforting on those days. He understand - my childhood pain was all over my face.

So any, I loved Mr. Bethea in a unique, admiring, awe inspiring way. Just like I love my piano. And the stability that it and those regimented lessons brought me. I am going to teach my girls the basics, start formal lessons in the spring. But I can't wait to just go through those old books, stare at his immaculate script, reminisce on over ten years of training.

I quit playing. Wanted so hard to fit in, be cool, hang. Got sick of my mother inserting herself in making sure I practiced, using it as another reason to pick at me. She offered the ultimatum - "I need to save my money, wasting all this money on you." Spite made me say "Fine!" Anything to hurt her, shut her up, then, the 17 year old mind set on revenge and escape. But I actually hurt myself in the process.

I can't turn back time. And I can't dwell on the past, too much internal sadness. I refuse to regret anymore, have to focus on the good times. But I am going to pick up where I left off. And I can't wait...

*A sincere thanks to Mr. and Mrs. Eugene Montgomery, I have no words to express my gratitude.*