ENGL 106 Student, Fall 2012, Instructor Lisa Curtin Finding the Right Keys As a five year old

girl, being forced to do anything isnt fun, but when the event is a piano lesson, the lack of fun becomes torture. While a piano lesson only consumed thirty minutes of my week, to a little kid those thirty minutes are a lifetime. Thirty minutes of being forced to learn how to play the piano through church hymns and other monotonous songs. My relationship to music as a child was torture. I hated it. I hated practicing. I hated my teacher. I hated lessons. I hated everything to do with the piano. Four years after the torture began, my parents finally allowed me to quit. Thankfully, the piano didnt ruin music completely for me. I did move on to play other instruments. I played my violin and eventually joined my schools band to play the French horn, but never the piano. My keyboard sat rejected collecting dust on a table for many years. I had no desire to play another church hymn in my life. I had no desire to press a black or white key with my childish fingers again. I was content playing the violin and French horn with the piano being a distant memory. While the memories of piano lessons grew dimmer in my mind as I aged, they were always still there. I knew my talent still existed; I couldnt ignore it forever. My time with music was devoted to playing the French horn. I quit the violin because of the lack of a good teacher. I would think about the piano from time to time and play around on my keyboard, but I never sat down to actually play. I didnt want to. I didnt need to. My parents stopped suggesting I play. I couldnt be told to do it; it was going to be something I found on my own.

2 In 2006, a rather unknown band released a song. I heard it on the radio a few times yet didnt really hear it. Until one day, something clicked. I realized how beautiful the song was and how it seemed to impact me more than any other song on the radio. I listened to the lyrics and most importantly the flowing piano music. As the song reached its final chord, I knew it was something special. The voice on the radio informed me that the song was Boston by Augustana. It totally captured me. When I think about the moment now, I am surprised how moving I found the song at my age of about thirteen, but I am more than happy I did. I listened to the song over and over and over again. It would be stuck in my head for days at a time. It became the song I listened to for anything. I could listen when I was sad, happy, excited, nervous, and anything else because it seemed to explain it. While the song quickly became my favorite song, it hadnt really impacted me yet. Almost two years later, I realized what I should have realized the first time I heard the song. I could play it. I knew how to play the piano, so why couldnt I play it for myself? Im not sure why I realized it when I did, but it changed my life. I found the sheet music on the internet and went to work. It was definitely not easy at first, and it wasnt easy the second or third time. I guess a part of me thought playing the piano was like riding a bike, that I would never forget how to do it, but it wasnt like that at all. I had forgotten how. I had forgotten how to read bass clef music and my fingers didnt flow like they used to. I still knew the basics of what I needed to do and that seemed to be enough. Beyond the basics of reading music and knowing where the notes were on the piano, I had to teach myself to play again. I spent hours at my keyboard writing in notes and counting out rhythms. While frustration became my partner through the tedious process of teaching myself, I knew it was what I had to do. Many years before I was frustrated because I hated the

3 piano and was forced to play it by other people. However, the frustration I felt when I forced myself to play became my motivation. No matter how much the frustration affected me, there seemed to be something else forcing me to continue. I practiced and practiced until I could fluently play Boston. I could play it because I taught myself. The feeling of accomplishment overwhelmed me. My parents were thrilled that I was playing again, and so was I. The piano had opened my eyes to new opportunities. I loved teaching myself new songs and improving my newly discovered talent. As I continued to improve my playing, I quickly realized that my keyboard was not cutting it. I needed a real piano. In what seemed like no time at all, my parents came home to tell me they had bought me a piano. They found a very nice upright piano at a local auction and bought it for barely anything. After a phone call to my piano-moving uncle, my piano was sitting in the corner next to my bedroom. It was perfect. I couldnt believe I had my very own piano. The piano sat quietly in the corner as if it was made to sit there. The medium color of the wood balanced the autumn red color of the walls. While the piano bench was simply wood, it was the most inviting seat in my house. The bench was full of antique books of sheet music left by the previous owner. The piano was over forty years old but didnt look any different than what it did in 1966. 88 keys rested in the wood calmly waiting for their next song. After a visit from a piano tuner, my piano was ready to play. The weight of the keys rested under my fingers and the golden pedals under my foot; the piano was all mine. With all the music I was now playing on the piano and French horn, I thought to myself why stop there? I decided that I shouldnt limit myself to only two instruments. I had taught myself to play the piano, so I knew I could teach myself any instrument I wanted to play. Every

4 instrument seemed to be at my fingertips after I taught myself Boston. It let me play the piano again, and now it was letting me expand my passion even further. After about three years of practice and terrible noises from instruments, I managed to expand my musical ability to a total of ten instruments. While I dont claim to be an expert at all of them, I do know how to play them all at least moderately well. I was able to teach myself six of the ten instruments. The French horn, violin, piano, flute, saxophone, trumpet, mellophone, and mandolin are the instruments I can currently play while I am still working on the guitar and harmonica. With my knowledge of different musical instruments came the appreciation for the sounds they can make. Not only do I know a lot about the instruments I play but a lot about music in general. When I listen to any song, I dont just listen to the top layer. I find myself following every part of the melody and the harmony coming from the multiple instruments. My knowledge of music has taught me to appreciate what I hear on a new level. The way I listen to and interpret music is definitely different from someone who has never read a piece of music. As my appreciation for music grows, my tolerance decreases. I relate better to people with whom I can have a very intellectual conversation about music. The people I have relationships today think about and assess music in a way thats similar to the way I think about and assess music. The majority of my friends plays instruments and understands music the way I do. Music is a common ground for us and something we can easily do together. As Ive grown up through music, I still find myself coming back to that one song. The one song that started it all for me and has kept me going through the frustrations that music brings. It has been the song I can count on to make me feel better even on my worst days. When

5 the opportunity to debut how I felt about the song to hundreds of people came knocking at my door, I couldnt pass it up. What are you going to play for us? asked one of the teachers in charge of the talent show. Im going to play Boston by Augustana, I answered trying to calm myself down before I had to play for them. Oh, great! Thats a good song! replied Mrs. Cole with a glowing smile across her face. With the go ahead from the teachers and the silence that took over the auditorium, I sat down at the schools old up-right piano to audition for the schools annual talent show. I was unprepared and hadnt decided which song I was going to play until the day the audition paper was due. I was going to be playing my song though, the song that had changed my musical path, the song that I had played so many times that it was more than memorized, and the song that I dearly loved. As I reminded myself about my love for the song, I took a deep breath and sat my hands on the keys. I began playing like I had done so many times in the past. Even though the piano was out of tune and sounded worse than any piano I had probably ever played, I continued through the song with little effort. The song flowed through my fingers and over the keys as a second nature. I forgot about the audition and the people watching me because none of that mattered. Nothing else matters when I play Boston. As I sustained the final note, I looked over the piano and smiled towards the teachers.

6 Wow, Alivia, that was beautiful! Mrs. Cole complimented me as I turned in my chair to face the few members of the audience clapping for me. Thank you, I replied with a smile knowing that I would get to play my favorite song in the talent show with my school and community watching. I exited the auditorium still smiling and high-fiving my fellow classmates as they complimented what I had played. Even if my audition was last minute and under-rehearsed, I was thrilled I would get to play my favorite song for so many people. The final performance arrived quickly. While wearing my favorite star-patterned dress, I played Boston in the talent show. I didnt notice the audience or the spotlight flooding over the keys as I played. I felt at home on the stage with a piano and was able to perform it for many people as I had so many times for myself. The song let me express myself to people I had never met. The song let me play the piano again. Boston let me be the musician I am today.