A Bite of This...A Bite of That

Along with the instant Idaho potatoes, my brother also sent a bar of 90% dark chocolate. It was rather bitter and not that pleasant to eat – almost like eating baking chocolate. I tried to give Richard half but he declined. It did come at a good time. Part of the instructions the NP sent home with me when I was treated for the “itis’s,” which would be laryngitis, bronchitis, conjuctivitis, and cheilitis (an inflamed upper lip) was “coffee and dark chocolate.”

In the Christmas box my sister sent, was a small bag of caramels. I started eating my half of the caramels along with the chocolate bar. A bite of chocolate… a bite of caramel. Tasted pretty good together.

My sister sent me an e-mail yesterday in which she told me she has found a home nearby for the family piano that we both learned to play on when we were children. My brother also took lessons for about a month but then he decided he would rather go out and play with the boys and so she did not force him. He says now it was one of the biggest regrets of his life.

After we grew up and left home, my mom decided she wanted to do something different with the living room, and so she gave the piano to my sister and bought a small spinet piano that fit perfectly in another spot. Dad could play if he wanted or the granddaughters (one of the granddaughters is very gifted musically) could entertain if they came to visit.

She will be passing it to a family that has two children and lives right down the street from them. The piano is big...

and takes up a lot of room and she wants to do something else with her living room. 

I don’t blame her, but I am a little sad. It is hard though to mentally let go of things that you have had an attachment to.

In her memoir Becoming, Michele Obama writes about being given music lessons by her great aunt on an old piano when she was a child. Her family lived in an upstairs apartment that had been created in an old house that her great aunt owned. 

She learned to recognize middle C because there was a chip in the ivory. When it came time for her first recital, she had no idea where middle C was and was frozen. She was lucky: her aunt came on the stage and showed her middle C and she was able to carry on.

Reading about that brought back a very painful memory. Dad and mom both played, and she began teaching me to play when I was 4. I had an aptitude for it, so they arranged for a teacher and I took lessons. The keyboard was not in good shape. Middle C was chipped, as were the ivories on other keys.

My first – and last – piano recital was a disaster. I was perhaps 11 or 12 years old. When I sat frozen at the piano, which did not have any chipped ivories, I had no idea where to place my hands. My teacher did not come up and show me where middle C was. I floundered. I guess I got through the program I had practiced but not very well. I can’t remember when I was ever more embarrassed. I cried a lot.  

My parents immediately had the keyboard repaired, so when my sister began taking lessons, she didn’t have that problem. Her teacher got me involved in her lessons and gave us duets to play. And she still has the sheet music all these years later. 

We had so much fun. Lots of laughter and joy.

I hope the piano brings the new family them as much joy as it did our family.