Music

I did not grow up in a house where music was important, yet for as long as I can remember, I’ve wanted to play the piano. When I was seven I told my mother if she would buy me a piano, she wouldn’t have to buy me any birthday or Christmas gifts for seven more years.  It never happened.

At summer camp as a teenager, I used all my free time sitting at the piano.  I didn’t know how to read music, but I knew where middle C was and I knew the sheet music had the secret code of Every Good Boy Does Fine, so I could find EGBD and F on the lines and FACE between the lines.  Someone had taught me that when I was young and I never forgot it.  With that bit of information, I taught myself a few lines of one of my favorite hymns.  I didn’t know anything about reading notes or how long to hold the keys down, but I figured it out playing a familiar tune.

A bit of depression swept over me when I turned 30 and realized I still had never learned to play the piano, so I started taking lessons.  I was my piano teacher’s only adult student, but she was kind and very encouraging and I practiced for hours and hours each day.  I was amazed at how my brain could tell my left hand to do one thing while my right hand did another and my feet did something else.  I took lessons for three years, then got married to Kory and life got too busy to continue.

Naturally, when I had my own child, I wasn’t about to deny him the gift of music.  I played classical music in his room while he slept.  I bought him every kind of hand held musical instrument appropriate for his age as he grew, yet none of it ever seemed to light a fire in him.

I wanted to start Kaleb in piano lessons early, but was advised to wait a bit, so I did.  At ten, he began to plunk the keys and have music fill our home.  But instead of bringing joy and beauty, it only brought tears and sorrow.  Turns out, Kaleb hates playing the piano.  How can it be?  Who could hate music? Who wouldn’t want to decode all those notes and symbols on the printed page?  It made no sense, but I insisted he continue.

After a few years of learning the basics of music, but always fighting an uphill battle, I’ve finally given up. Many adult friend advised against it and said one of their biggest regrets is that their parents let them quit taking lessons, as they wished now they could play. 

So this year, I turned the tables a bit and told Kaleb he didn’t have to take lessons, but if he wanted to step aside from formal teaching and just learn how to play some of his favorite songs, I’d find him a teacher who would do that.  I promised I’d let him “own” the whole thing and there would be no pressure on my part to even practice.  His response? “Now that’s more like it.”  Time will tell, but at least the music hasn’t died in our home just yet.