I love
coming home on Sunday afternoons, opening the doors to my beautiful little
Courtyard, and playing the piano. I could play for hours – and typically do.
There’s something relaxing about just opening a book of sheet music as those
little black dots tell my fingers just precisely how to dance across the keys.
I’ve played the piano for years, and I’m still not quite sure I understand how
it all really works.
And the
music floats on the air, and bounces around the little courtyard a bit before
it floats off into the sky. The dogs run in-and-out, loving having the doors
open – and the birds living in the Courtyard Wisteria don’t seem to mind the
music at all. Fortunately, neither do the neighbors.
Sundays
are about the only day I play the piano anymore. I’m not sure why, but I guess
I just get too busy during the week – and piano-playing is a bit of a luxury
that I don’t often allow myself time for. Except on Sundays, because it is an
appropriate Sunday-type activity – so that’s when I indulge.
I’ve
played the piano off-and-on most of my life, but it wasn’t really until I was
in college that I got any good. In my whole life, I’ve only taken about 3½
years of lessons. But when I got to college I had more opportunity to play, and
more motivation, so I practiced A LOT – and all that practicing paid off. In
college I made pretty decent grocery money playing at Weddings and for Vocal
Auditions. (Although, if truth be told, I would have played for free – because
I truly just enjoy it.)
My one
“Claim to Fame” in this world is one wedding I played at a dozen or so years
ago. Instead of a regular “corporate” job, I was primarily teaching piano and
playing at wedding receptions after my mom died (so I could spend more time
with Dad) – and one day I got a call about a reception. It was last minute, and
they asked on a Wednesday if I was available for Friday – which I was – so I
jotted down all the detail for the wedding. It was at a reception center in
Lehi, which I played at fairly regularly – and when it got to the names of the
Bride and Groom, well the groom was an Osmond. What? The father of the groom
was one of the Osmond Brothers (I can’t remember which anymore - Alan, Merrill,
Wayne). I remember asking: “You mean the Osmonds don’t know anyone in Utah that
can play the piano???” Hey, it was $200
for 2-hours of playing, so I was in. When I got there, Debbie Gibson came and
sat next to me on the piano bench, flipping through my sheet music, saying
“Play this!”, and singing – joined in by a wide-variety of Osmonds. It was the
funnest and most nerve-wracking 2-hours of piano playing of my life. And a
memory I will never forget.
Nowadays
I’m more along the speed of playing in Relief Society and the occasional
Musical Number at church – which is just fine with me. I play because I enjoy it.
There is something healing about music – and for a few hours, on a Sunday
afternoon, I am transported. I am whole. I am somewhere the troubles of the
world don’t exist, and I am at peace.
If you
have nothing going on some Sunday, come on over, sit in my Courtyard, and I’ll
play one of my favorites for you.
Music
gives a
soul to the universe,
wings to
the mind,
flight to
the imagination,
and
life to everything else.
-- Plato
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