EGBDF, FACE

I recently received a "forward" email which might have been the best "forward" I have ever received. I normally delete such forwards but since it was from one of my cousins, who never sends them, I thought I should take a look. It was called 'Hilarious Thoughts of the Day' and it was right, all thoughts were indeed hilarious. One thought said, "I totally take back all those times I didn't want to nap when I was younger." Could this be any more true? I would give my right arm if I had someone every single day tell me it was time to take a nap and MAKE me sleep for a minimum of an hour each day. I can only imagine how much more productive I would be instead of completely crashing on the couch from exhaustion when I get home at night. This "thought" provoked me to think of other things I didn't want to do when I was a child, and now as an adult, wish I still had the chance.

The other day I was driving home from work, and on the radio came 2 songs in a row where I started playing the "air drums". Come on, don't tell me you never play the air guitar or just completely rock out to music while in the car! I laughed at my head banging drum playing and thought that maybe I should take music lessons again, maybe the guitar because I'm pretty sure my husband couldn't stand me playing the drums. This in turn reminded me of the days when I took piano lessons. I realized this was one thing I wish I wouldn't have given up when I was a child...piano lessons.

You see, my mother signed my brother and I up for piano lessons. I don't remember exactly what ages we were, I would guess somewhere around 3rd and 5th grade. I also don't remember whose idea it was, I am thinking it was my mother's. Our piano teacher was the music teacher at the high school where my mother taught. His wife was not only a teacher at the high school as well, but my mother's closest friend. So I think teaching piano was an experiment for this man, and my brother and I were the guinea pigs.

Mr. Bourquein, that was his name. It even sounds horrible, doesn't it? I was completely petrified of him, he was probably the coldest and most awkward mentor I have ever had in my life. Our lessons were on Monday evenings at his house at 5:00 pm. My brother and I would each make a mad dash to the piano once we got home from school on Mondays, because of course neither of us had practiced a minute of our "lessons". We always had some sort of silly paper work to do as well. My mother would scold us for not doing it in advance and I would always argue that I thought piano lessons were supposed to be fun, not "work".

My brother would go first. My mother and I would drop him off and then run a few errands before she would bring me back a few minutes before it was my turn. I remember walking into their house and feeling uncomfortable while I waited for my brother to finish his lesson. Their yappy dog, Charlie, would be there barking and biting at my ankles. (The dog was so putrid that I even remember his name!) My brother and I laugh to this day at how bad he played the piano. I would cringe as I sat in the chair waiting for him to finish while he pounded slowly away at the keys. For a teacher, Mr. Bourquein wasn't very patient. I would snicker while watching him get upset with my brother's lack of improvement.

Then, much to my chagrin, it was my turn. He would review my paperwork and inevitably make corrections on all of my mistakes. Some times he would even have me take it home and redo it! The nerve! I have to admit, I wasn't bad at the piano, I wasn't good either. I was tolerable, certainly no piano recital winner! Hell, Mr. Bourquein didn't even suggest me entering in a recital! Once the 30 minutes (which always seemed like 3 hours) were over. I'd walk out of their house to find my mom and brother waiting for me in the car where we would then head to McDonald's for dinner. And all was better until next Monday......

A year or 2 passed and much to Mr. Bourquein's dismay (insert sarcasm here) my brother quit taking piano lessons. Of course I begged my mother to let me quit, but she said no. As time went on, I found that I rather enjoyed playing piano, but only enjoyed the songs I knew. So my mother convinced Mr. Bourquein to let me start practicing/playing fun songs and not Beethoven or Mozart. Reluctantly he agreed and my next lesson I brought my Beatles book to class. The first song I learned to play was "All my Loving" which to this day is one of my least favorite Beatles songs probably due to the fact that I had to play it over and over again until perfection. Over the next few years my repertoire included The Beatles, solo Paul McCartney, solo John Lennon, Simon and Garfunkel, CATS the musical, and Phantom of the Opera. I found myself liking playing the piano and I soon became the entertainment at family gatherings and of course Christmas where my mom, uncle, & grandpa would stand around the piano singing Christmas carols.


I don't know why I stopped taking piano lessons, probably because I outgrew it and thought it wasn't cool anymore. I would still sit at the piano and play a few songs here and there, but never continued practicing. A few years ago my father sold the house that I grew up in. Along with the house, he sold the piano. At the time I didn't have any place to put it, but it still made me sick knowing the new homeowners had MY piano. Were they ever going to stand around it singing Christmas Carols, use it for entertainment while someone belted out 'Bridge Over Troubled Waters', play it while trying to re-enact Paul McCartney's concert version of 'Hey Jude'? At least I have the memories if not the piano. Now my husband and I own our own home with a room just waiting for a piano. His parents have a beautiful baby grand sitting in their living room, covered with dust and family pictures. Not one person uses it and I'm just waiting for the day when they offer it to us. Because then I'll be able to play again. More importantly I'll be able to force my children to take piano lessons, have them quit, and regret it when they get older.