We didn't have a piano, but that didn't stop me from pretending to "tickle the ivories" on just about every surface imaginable. I would "play" on the back of the seat while riding in the car. When the organist would play during church, I would "play" along on the back of the pew in front of us. I would even kick off my shoes to "play" the organ pedals just like the organist did. I made myself a keyboard from construction paper and "played" it until it eventually fell apart.
Each time I asked my parents for a piano, I was met with the same response, "We would love to get you a piano, but pianos are expensive and we just can't afford it." And so, I would play on in my imagination, wishing and praying for such an instrument to appear.
My Aunt Marsha had a piano and she would often let me "play" it when we would visit. This was only somewhat satisfying; I was sitting at an actual keyboard, but only pressing the keys in some random order. I wasn't making real music. I tried to escape into my imagination, pretending that I was playing some beautiful, intricate sonata at Carnegie Hall, but then it was time to go and I would feel that familiar ache again. Oh, how I longed to learn to really play the piano!
I was so jealous of my friends who got to take piano lessons. Most of them didn't really enjoy the process and were angry that their parents "made" them practice. I offered on many occasions to take their place. I just couldn't understand why they didn't appreciate this amazing opportunity that was given to them.
While in elementary school, I learned how to read music from our music teacher, Mrs. Brackett. The other kids in my class thought it was boring, but I was positively fascinated. After borrowing some beginner piano lesson books from my Aunt Marsha, I went through each song and identified the name of each and every note. I used the fingering chart in one of the books to teach myself where to properly place my hands and I would "play" the songs on our kitchen table. I was so determined to learn to play, even without the actual instrument!
Each year before my birthday, I would remind my parents that a piano would make a lovely gift. And each year, I was disappointed. They just didn't have the means to make my wish come true. What I really needed was a fairy godmother! And, one day, she appeared...
It was the morning of my 11th birthday. I had spent the night before at a friend's house and arrived home shortly before noon... just in time to see a piano being moved into our living room! I could hardly believe my eyes! I immediately began jumping up and down with excitement. My parents quickly explained that this was a gift from my Aunt Marsha. In fact, it was her piano. My aunt had decided to get herself a different piano, so she devised a plan to give her Baldwin to me. It was a gift that would change my life.
I began piano lessons the very next week. I progressed quickly and soon I was playing everywhere! I became the designated accompanist at church and at school. I was asked to play for numerous occasions in the community. By the time I was in high school I was giving piano lessons to young beginners. A whole world of opportunity was opened to me because of that precious gift.
Shortly after I was married, my piano was moved from my parents' home to our home. We moved 15 times in the first 15 years of our married life and that piano has gone everywhere with us. Both of my daughters learned to play on that beautiful instrument. Now they are the ones who are asked to play at school and in church. Another generation influenced by that selfless gift from so many years ago. It truly is the gift that keeps on giving.
My Aunt Marsha passed away yesterday morning. She was 74 years old. She never married or had any children of her own. We, her nieces and nephews, were the blessed recipients of her love and generosity... as if we were her own kids. She was forthright, funny, and, at times, incredibly frustrating, but definitely one-of-a-kind. For all that she was and for all that we shared, I am so grateful. I will miss her...
