Being a piano player herself in her youth, she recognized the benefits of learning and playing music.
So, with some financial assistance from my grandparents, my mom and dad bought a Kawai upright when I was in the 3rd grade. My mom proceeded to set me up for lessons.
...from 3rd grade to 8th, studying with several
different teachers. Much like Goldilocks, it took a few tries to find the right fit.
My first teacher - a distant aunt - taught me how to read music well enough to plunk out spunky little diddies while allowing me to get away with very sloppy playing.
Sensing a need for a better foundation, my mother moved me to a second teacher who was all about technique on classical pieces. Seeing some raw talent, she set an extremely high bar. I might’ve learned
a thing or two if I had stuck with her, but she terrified me. Our relationship lasted all of 3 months.
...my mother’s continued faith in me led to a third teacher, who managed just the right blend of structure and fun.
...this beloved piano teacher moved away after two years. Her leaving, combined with my lack of disciplined practice, led to the conclusion of my formal piano lessons.
I continued to doodle on the piano throughout my
adolescence, composing sappy songs, instrumental pieces, and a few choral pieces.
...was having one of my choral songs performed by my church choir when I was sixteen. Sadly, no recording of that performance exists. My dad did bring a tape recorder and recorded it - God bless him - but that tape went the way of, well... cassette tapes.
I left the piano for a number of years to enjoy other pursuits, but I'm happy to be resuming my musical education, thanks to the help of Mark Harrison's music theory books and a wonderful teacher, Ron Drotos. These days, instead of writing sappy love songs, I am drawing on my theatre background to write a musical. I look forward to sharing it once I am further along.
Thanks for listening.