While doing the final things at 7611 before the estate sale company took over, we discovered a box of my old music books in the basement. I had no idea it was down there. Among the music books was the notebook I brought along to my piano lessons.
This is an apt notebook, as I was incredibly imperfect while learning piano. Also, I forgot that there used to be all kinds of fun notebooks. They seem to have receded with the tide of stationary.
Mrs. Peterson was my piano teacher. I would walk to her house where she had a room for her piano pupils. It probably was a family or living room originally, it had a sliding glass door to the backyard. Her children were grown up, but she wasn’t overly old. Somewhere between my mom and my grandmother.
Under Mrs. Peterson’s guidance, I worked through several piano books. She used the notepad to write my weekly assignments. On the first page she explained the treble and bass clef, along with FACE and All Cows Eat Grass mnemonics. I don’t think we got into Every Good Boy Does Fine and Good Boys Do Fine Always—I think those might have come later.
Flipping through the book provided evidence that my memory of myself as a piano student was correct. There were a lot of reminders to practice stated in various ways. I also needed to curve my fingers when I played. I’m not sure what was going on with me and not curving fingers, but it was a thing.
I took piano for three years, and in that time learned cursive, so Mrs. Peterson could switch from printing my lesson assignments to writing them.
I remember the recitals clearly. I even remember that “Mist” was “Mist Over a Japanese Garden” which is for sale on Amazon at this very minute for $7.99. I do not, however, have any memory of what those piano parties were. They happened twice a year, according to the notebook.
After my third year of having to continually be strongly encouraged to practice, I stopped taking lessons. I did not appear Thursday September 6 at 3:30 p.m. Instead, I took a year or two off and began not-practicing a series of instruments through late elementary, junior high, and high school.
I next took piano lessons my first year in college, and at that time, I did practice every day (or six days a week?) for an hour. I supposedly made good progress. The piano instructor quite liked me, and I even got a small music scholarship (of the kind for spirit rather than talent) but my second year I took too many credits and something had to go and so it was the one-credit piano that I dropped.