" Piano Lessons "
In the little college town where I began my teaching career, there was
a beautiful Victorian house still occupied by the daughter of it's
original builder. Doctor Holroyd. In it's front parlor, this little
lady gave piano lessons to boys and girls until well into her
eighties, sharing her gift of music with literally hundreds of
students over the years. Even though I did not know her personally, a
story I heard delighted me and has kept her in my mind since: Well
past " normal retirement age,' Miss Holroyd had ordered a new
grand piano to replace her aging Baldwin upright. Finding it
impossible to negotiate the entrance hallway, the piano movers
were obliged to remove a bay window and bring the thing in
through the large hole in the wall. Miss Holroyd could not bear to
watch, but when the piano was safely set up in it's new home, she came
back and played a short recital of Chopin for the men. Following
appropriate applause, one of the crew, a very large black man,
reciprocated by sitting down and playing for her a set of blues. I
love that picture, I suppose the house showing through the window and
the Chopin on the piano are my private little reminders of that
delightful event.
I think most of us remember our
piano teachers with a certain amount gratitude. Obviously, very few
students are destined for the concert stage, but many do continue to
play for a lifetime. Even those of us who do not enriched with a
better appreciation of a majestic art form. In Piano Lessons I
tried to paint a lady true to the spirit of dedicated piano teachers
like Miss Holroyd, diligently sharing her devotion to music with
a firm yet gentle hand. Thank you to you all for filling your
communities with music.
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