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I never learned to read music.  I’ve tried several times to learn, but I might as well be trying to learn ancient Greek on my own. 

I have no idea what all those little symbols mean and to which sound each corresponds.  My Mom tried to teach me not too long before she died, without success.  I’ve bought books and little musical tooters to try to help.  Nope. 

It can’t be THAT hard.  Oodles of people who are not as bright as I am know how to do it.  Even Kelsea. (That didn’t come out quite right, did it?  Honestly, she’s waaayyy smarter than me.)

Pat never cared for music, so we rarely listened to it.  Once I left, I started listening to more music, as did Kelsea.  I love it.  Love it in the car and in the house.  But last night, I was thinking that I’d like to play music.  I made vague efforts at playing my Mother’s guitar as a child/teenager.  FAIL.  I had (and still have) a balalaika that my Dad got for me when I moved out here.  Another FAIL.  So apparently, instruments of that ilk aren’t for me. 

I’ve always wanted to play the saxophone but my small opportunity to do so resulted in yet one more FAIL.  An ex-boyfriend played one, and I always liked his music, but could never seem to get my lips or lungs to do the right thing on the sax.  Violins?  Nah.  Cello?  Kelsea tried it for a year and it held no appeal for me.

So what should I try?  A harp?  That might be fun. 

But I’m actually leaning toward a piano.  My Mother always wanted a piano and when we were children, she had her own special bank account into which she put her saved ‘pin money’ so she could buy one someday.  After my Dad died and she moved to her apartment, she finally got one.  I don’t know that she played it much, but she didn’t care.  It was the fulfillment of a lifelong dream.  E-Bro has it now in his living room – I like that.

But I could see having a piano in the new house.  (I’m being completely assumptive about the new house, as I still have no word.)  I can see where it would go.  That would be cool.  I could have some little old lady come and teach me how to play in my free time (which will be limited if I’m working and commuting).  And then in six months, I’ll be able to sit and self-soothe by playing piano in the wee small hours; I will sound like Arthur Rubenstein (as long as I don’t look like him, we’ll be fine.)

I don’t know if it’s possible. Perhaps I simply don’t have the musical gene.  But it is a nice fantasy.

July 2020


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