When I was 10 years old I took lessons from one of the sweetest ladies. Her name was Mattie Mae Sanford and she lived in a little town only 2 miles from where I lived. She taught me the basics and then because of her influence I developed a love for classical music. One day she told me to bring a church hymnal and she began teaching me strictly from that. The first hymn I learned to play was Love Divine. I took lessons at 7:30 in the morning. My mother would take me to Mrs. Mattie Mae's house and after my lesson I would walk to school with some of my classmates that lived in town. I remember my recital. It was quite an affair for a poor little country girl. Most of the girls wore long gowns and my mother made mine. It was blue taffeta with netting over the skirt. The night before the recital Mama rolled my hair up in paper. That's right. She cut strips from a paper bag and it was done much the same as rolling hair for a perm except she would twist the ends of the paper together to hold it. She covered it with a scarf for me to sleep in. I imagine sleeping on one of those walnut shell pillows would sound about the same as my paper curlers. I still have the picture of me sitting at Mrs. Mattie Mae's grand piano in my gown and my curls standing out 3 inches from my head, but I thought I was beautiful. I only took lessons for less than 2 years. Not because I was no longer interested, but because we moved 65 miles away. I was so shy I could not bear to start lessons with someone else. I have always regretted that decision.
My first piano was an old upright, but I loved that thing. I didn't mind practicing. I enjoyed it. About a year after we moved, my mother sold the old upright for $50. I hated to see it go, but I knew I would probably never take lessons again.
When my daughters were near the age I had been when I started lessons, I bought them a brand new studio piano. I remember going to Fuller Music in New Bern to chose one. He showed me some very pretty ones, but I did not want them. He asked me why and I told him I knew the longer the strings, the better the tone. He said I was right. You see, my teacher taught me more than just how to play.
Practicing for my girls was not the enjoyment it had been for me. My oldest lost interest first. She even managed to jam her finger playing volley ball and was unable to play in her recital. My youngest daughter did play in the recital and did very well, but she too soon lost interest. I held onto that piano for years. I could still remember the right hand notes and I would play around with it. My girls told me I should be the one taking lessons. It was one thing to spend the money for my girls to learn but I didn't feel I could waste it on myself. So in my oldest daughter's senior year of high school I sold it, but certainly not for $50.
Later I thought I would enjoy a keyboard. Just something to pick out choir notes on. After telling my husband what I wanted for Christmas, and taking my girls to look at it so they would be sure to take him to the right one, I got my keyboard. I enjoyed it, but it wasn't like having a piano and I had to keep it in the bedroom. There really wasn't enough room for it. M youngest grandson would always sit down and try to play it when he came over, so I eventually gave it to him.
So began my long hiatus with no musical instrument. As most of you know, my husband died in 2012. I thought often of how I would like to have another piano, but just couldn't justify the expense. A friend began advertising hers on Facebook. I honestly don't know how long she had it up for sale. I even told her that if only I had the money I would love to have it. Then I just let it go. Many months went by and finally one day I contacted her to see if she had sold it & how much she was asking for it. It had not been sold and I felt the price was fair. I wasted no time checking with my son to see if he could pick it up for me. He said he could and I asked some men from church to help. So that is the story of my new-to-me piano. It sits in the same place as my last piano. It is as if the area was never without one.
Now what to do with that piano? Did I just want to use it to pick out our choir notes? Not really. I wanted to play it, to enjoy it. God seems to make a way when we think there may never be one. We have a number of ladies at church who play beautifully and teach piano. Any of them would have been a great choice, but I held back. Then I attended our Christian school's Christmas program. One young lady played a solo on the piano and they told who her instructor is. I knew this lady could play but I didn't know she also taught. I remember saying to myself, "Hmmm" and I knew right then that I would ask her if she would teach me. She had just recently undergone surgery and was recovering. I jokingly told her to get better because I needed her to teach me how to play. She in turn asked if I was serious. Oh yes, I was serious but there was no rush. So later today will be my second lesson. I will be 67 years old in a few months. My hands don't work the way they did when I was 11. I practice faithfully. Not because I have to, but because I love to. I never would have thought after 55 years that I would again be taking piano lessons. My mother would be proud. I will never be the pianist I could have been had I continued my lessons throughout those years I missed. But I will play again for God has made a way.
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