Our childhood/girlhood piano lessons - what a fruitful topic to explore. Many of us have been there and have clear, not always positive, memories. All those quirky teachers. But YOU are the author who actually thought of writing about this experience, bringing us your memories and inspiring our own. Thanks. I enjoyed entering your girlhood musical world. Enjoy your piano!
Leah! What a compelling, inspiring, heartwarming account of your life with piano. My mother was not only a painter, but, also a concert level pianist. She never performed beyond her young days in Budapest - only played for us at home. She was Polish & Hungarian and loved Chopin... 3 gens of female pianists in her family. Thank you for this - a delight to read.
Leah-- wonderful that you are writing again. What a bitter sweet little story. Your musical struggles were worth in all in the end. Playing for your mom at the end of her life-- such a precious thing. Looking forward to your next piece.
oh leah, thank you for sharing this lovely and tender and funny remembering of your musical journey....and yes, i was crying at the end. what a blessed gift you gave to your mother, and what a gift this memoir is for the rest of us. <3
As a pianist myself, I can sympathize and relate with the anxiety, the self doubt, the hard work and the rewards. Plus your writing is inspirational. Guess I have to tickle those ivories a bit more!
A wonderful aggregate of memories --- the distinctive teachers, the critical father, the conscientous mother, the envious sister. It's a large family portrait through a small lens.
This is great! However...although I am a quarter Italian (and now a dual citizen) I've never worried about smelling like provolone. But probably nobody ever told Mrs. DeVito, either. In any case, more, please!
I wasn't surprised by the heart-warming coda, Leah -- I expected it of you -- but I am lookinng forward to a command performance in the fullness of time. "Raindrops?"
I have no memory of our ever talking about piano lessons when we were kids, though I do recall the grand piano in your livingroom (or is that a false memory? How could a grand piano have fit?) My piano lessons, from age 9 to 15, were with Miss Colmedici in her home, with her mother's wonderful Italian cooking aromas emanating from the kitchen. I never got beyond John Thompson's 3rd grade book because, 1) most of my lesson time involved her playing and my singing--Gilbert & Sullivan is what I remember, but other pieces too that were in the music books; and 2) with my mother at work when I got home from school I grew very proficient at lying about my practice time
I loved this! I never took piano in school, but we had a scool band that played some plastic thing that I think was called a recorder, and in later years I took and loved ukulele. I have forgotten everything!
Question: you're Jewish, confirmation is Catholic, no? How did you wind up receiving confirmation?
It's a kind of graduation ceremony from Sunday school. Yes, we are Jewish, and I was brought up orthodox. But in those days of yore, girls didn't get bat mitzva-ed; boys only went through that ritual. Girls in white dresses took part in a confirmation ceremony at synagogue. Oh, next time you are here, I shall show you my dorky confirmation class picture on the dining room wall.
Our childhood/girlhood piano lessons - what a fruitful topic to explore. Many of us have been there and have clear, not always positive, memories. All those quirky teachers. But YOU are the author who actually thought of writing about this experience, bringing us your memories and inspiring our own. Thanks. I enjoyed entering your girlhood musical world. Enjoy your piano!
Thanks so much, Barbara. Our grandkids have so many lessons; they will have plenty of fuel to write about one day!
Leah! What a compelling, inspiring, heartwarming account of your life with piano. My mother was not only a painter, but, also a concert level pianist. She never performed beyond her young days in Budapest - only played for us at home. She was Polish & Hungarian and loved Chopin... 3 gens of female pianists in her family. Thank you for this - a delight to read.
❤️👏
Leah-- wonderful that you are writing again. What a bitter sweet little story. Your musical struggles were worth in all in the end. Playing for your mom at the end of her life-- such a precious thing. Looking forward to your next piece.
Thank you — wonderful piece. Your memories brought back so many of my own. 💜
So happy you are writing again.
I loved the old grizzled man who knew all the words. Peggy
What a great read Leah. Thank you!
oh leah, thank you for sharing this lovely and tender and funny remembering of your musical journey....and yes, i was crying at the end. what a blessed gift you gave to your mother, and what a gift this memoir is for the rest of us. <3
As a pianist myself, I can sympathize and relate with the anxiety, the self doubt, the hard work and the rewards. Plus your writing is inspirational. Guess I have to tickle those ivories a bit more!
Wonderful indeed!
xxx aw thanks
A wonderful aggregate of memories --- the distinctive teachers, the critical father, the conscientous mother, the envious sister. It's a large family portrait through a small lens.
This is great! However...although I am a quarter Italian (and now a dual citizen) I've never worried about smelling like provolone. But probably nobody ever told Mrs. DeVito, either. In any case, more, please!
Thank you. Very pleased to have comment from someone who's actually heard me play!
I wasn't surprised by the heart-warming coda, Leah -- I expected it of you -- but I am lookinng forward to a command performance in the fullness of time. "Raindrops?"
I have no memory of our ever talking about piano lessons when we were kids, though I do recall the grand piano in your livingroom (or is that a false memory? How could a grand piano have fit?) My piano lessons, from age 9 to 15, were with Miss Colmedici in her home, with her mother's wonderful Italian cooking aromas emanating from the kitchen. I never got beyond John Thompson's 3rd grade book because, 1) most of my lesson time involved her playing and my singing--Gilbert & Sullivan is what I remember, but other pieces too that were in the music books; and 2) with my mother at work when I got home from school I grew very proficient at lying about my practice time
Oh, Leah, this is wonderful! Encore, encore!
I loved this! I never took piano in school, but we had a scool band that played some plastic thing that I think was called a recorder, and in later years I took and loved ukulele. I have forgotten everything!
Question: you're Jewish, confirmation is Catholic, no? How did you wind up receiving confirmation?
It's a kind of graduation ceremony from Sunday school. Yes, we are Jewish, and I was brought up orthodox. But in those days of yore, girls didn't get bat mitzva-ed; boys only went through that ritual. Girls in white dresses took part in a confirmation ceremony at synagogue. Oh, next time you are here, I shall show you my dorky confirmation class picture on the dining room wall.