Can I tell you a story? It’s about a girl and her piano. The piano came long before the girl did…it belonged to her mother, and what a prized posession it was. The piano was the centerpiece of the living room, and a source of endless entertainment for the girl even when she was very little. When she turned five, her mother asked her if she’d like to take piano lessons. Of course she said yes, and so she began her first of many, many years learning to play.
The girl had lots of different piano teachers. First a whole slew at the music store in the mall, then a nun named Sister James Marie throughout junior high and high school. But while her teachers changed, she came home and practiced on that same piano. She didn’t practice as much as she should have, but she did the best she could. After all, she was a very busy girl.
When the girl’s mother turned 40, her family threw her a surprise party. But the biggest surprise was a baby grand piano, which sat front and center in the living room. The old piano still had a spot in that room, but it was mostly ignored. When the girl’s parents moved to a new house, the big shiny one had it’s own room upstairs while the old piano was relegated to the basement. There it stayed for several years, collecting dust.
By now, the girl was all grown up. She and her husband bought a new house, which had a room perfect for her teaching studio. All it needed was a piano. So all the men in the girl’s family got together and rescued that old piano from the basement, lugging it up a flight of stairs, out the door, onto a truck, and finally into the room where it will live from now on.
And that is the story of this girl and her piano. It’s amazing to me that the very same instrument I once banged on as a toddler will be used to teach countless other children how to play. I love my piano.