My aunt and uncle were both trained musicians ....she a vocalist and he an instrumentalist and composer. Though I cannot for the life of me tell you if it's something I wanted to do,I took piano lessons from first one and then the other of them beginning at around the age of 7. Jimbo was also the music teacher for the public school system at the time and he would breeze in singing "Good morning Mrs. Green's room!" in that falsetto that I adored.

My younger brother and I would be dropped off at their house on my lesson morning and Bubba would snooze while I practiced my "pieces". Then we and my cousin Deb would mosey off to the elementary school around the corner for another day in paradise. They moved away and my lessons changed location.

Ms. Fisher got my fingers next, but by then the world had a hold of me and my Mom let me quit when it became too much of a battle to keep up the discipline. In high school Unk took me in once again when he was band director and adjusted his expectations accordingly. I was a hanger on with the marching and concert bands and did one big solo chimes performance to satisfy that silly "must play an instrument to hang around" rule. It was awesome, if I do say so myself:)


Music is something that you never forget, kinda like riding a bicycle. As an adult with a hankering for a creative outlet, I dreamed about having a piano of my own again. I wanted to play. Bad. Jimbo went with me to check out an ancient one that had been left silent a year or so earlier. Buck and MJ had lost their only child Jason to the ravages of leukemia but had held onto his precious piano for a respectable period. They were ready to move on and get the elephant out of the room, so to speak.

My ex and SEVERAL other men moved that puppy into our house and I got it tuned. From that point on, the keyboard became my creative friend. Whenever I felt the Spirit move, I'd pull out that UMC hymnal and play my little heart out. "Hymn of Promise" "Give Thanks" "Sanctuary" "O For a Thousand Tongues to Sing"

I could play the ones without umpteen sharps or flats pretty well. Still can. There is one, though, that still brings tears to my eyes every time I let it fly. It's a bluesy type of tune that speaks to my soul when it's just my alto voice and God and the piano.

I think I'll tickle the ivories this weekend.