All because of $1.98

I should have been a pianist. Really.

I don’t know what happened.

Ok, I know what happened.

But I think I really could have been an amazing pianist. I had thoughts of playing the piano while at work today. Wondering . . . what if?

I started thinking about how similar typing on a computer keyboard is to typing along the keys of a piano. And I am darn good at typing on a computer keyboard, I must say. But piano keys . . . something all together different.

I wish I was musically inclined. I can sing like no body’s business (especially in the shower), and follow along with music enough to get pretty close to the notes. But playing the piano . . . it’s like a foreign language to me. And while typing today (which is what my day time job primarily consists of), I found myself in a groove. In a rhythm. Selecting the keys with a pep and jump in my step that had me wonder why I never fell into piano playing. But then I was reminded of my enemy. . .

I took piano lessons when I was in 3rd or 4th grade. I don’t remember much . . . I think my music teacher had a Dorothy Hamill sort of hair cut and wore really large glasses (it would have been 1979, mind you.) And she seemed to take the whole music thing sort of serious (I was 8 . . . music playing was meant to be fun, wasn’t it?) I remember taking lessons and thinking this was going to be easy, but somehow things just got really jumbled up with all the notes in my head, and the song never quite came out the way I wanted it to. My teacher often assumed I didn’t practice. So, off I would go . . . with my music sheets in hand, and a strict reminder to practice before returning to her the next week.

The days would go on with little time (if any) spent practicing my craft. And the night before my next lesson, warnings from my Mom would come to me that I had better spend some time practicing, or she was going to stop sending me for lessons. I would sit down at our little organ and play. For a minute. Maybe two.

In the background, I remember hearing something on the T.V.

Something that was going to make my life more culturally rich and rewarding than playing the piano.

Something that offered a lesson on talent, style and overall communication skills that would help me in life.

Right?

It was, the $1.98 Beauty Show.


From Google Image search

 And I wanted to watch it. So, I would slip away from the piano, and watch my favorite television program. Mom, who had three other really active kids, was probably busy with one of them at the point when my playing would stop. So, she never caught me leaving my practice. And me? I was thrilled because on the little t.v. council in our family room, I could watch real talent. I mean, they danced, they twirled batons, and they even sang . . . or tried to, anyway. And I loved that show.

The next day, when I got to my piano lessons, my teacher just knew that I hadn’t practiced. Something tells me she wasn’t as impressed with my decisions to watch the $1.98 Beauty Pageant, instead of practice. As for me, I was pretty happy.

The piano lessons didn’t continue much longer. I think I participated in one recital (I have a photo somewhere to prove it.) Mom was proud, I’m sure. I most remember the fancy dress I wore to the recital and have no idea what song I played. Part of that whole beauty pageant idea, I guess.

Now, I’m a pretty great typist. And I think I owe it all to those early piano lessons. But part of me wonders what it would like if computer keyboard would send music sounds . . . what song I would be playing today, as I type this post. What notes would I press as I paused for my next thought? Would Mr. Beethoven be inspired?

I guess I’ll never know. I guess that’s just one more “what if” to let go of . . . and smile at the thought of winning a bouquet of carrots and a check for $1.98. That seems just like the type of talent show I’d win . . . and I will always love it just as it is.