I always gave God credit for the piano that came to me and felt it was through His grace I was given the opportunity to learn to play it.? However, some recognition is also due Aunt Martha and Mom.
The best way to describe Aunt Martha is by the definitions I heard ascribed to her more than once Like,
“Isn’t see something else?” or
“She’s a real corker!”
The wife of my Dad’s youngest brother, Gene, Aunt Martha seemed to be the bane of the adult world.? Especially Uncle Gene’s world.? I’d heard about her many faults for as long as I could remember.? There were so many, another story could be written here, but I abstain.
On this particular day, in the Fall of 1934, she said to me.
“Weenie, how’d you like to have a piano for awhile?”
Calling me “Weenie” was er biggest fault as fr as I was concerned, but another came to mind at that moment.? Since she was known to be a “Teller of tall tales,” I hesitated, for maybe a second, before letting excitement rip through me.
Automatically, I looked at mom standing nearby.? Sure enough, she had that look, which meant,
“What now?” had she spoken.? This time it hardly registered.? With big bubbles of excitement bursting inside me, I eagerly asked,
“You really mean it, Aunt Martha?”? As it turned out, she really did.
I knew she had a piano in her home.? I also knew it wasn’t hers.? She was storing it for a family who had moved.? She now had to move to the country, and thought maybe we could keep the piano until the people came back for it.? My mother, bless her, said okay, we could do that.? Silently, I said,
“Thank you, God,” and gave Mom a hug.? I don’t know if I ever thanked Aunt Martha, but I suppose I did.
I’d just turned nine when that big black mahogany upright came to live in our living room.? I must say, it did take up some space, but it was such a wonderful instrument, it deserved it.? It immediately became My Piano, as though it was the only one in existence and no one else had ever owned it, nor would ever own one like it.??
As soon as it was settled into place, my oldest brother Hike, and I managed to squeeze ourselves together onto the piano stool and began to plunk away with one finger each.? It took us some time, but the reward of actually hearing and being able to sing to our single notes, “My Country ’tis of thee,” was tremendous.
For a short time, I think Mom considered looking for someone? else, anyone else, who would store it, for I spent every moment I could plunking away with my one finger.? I didn’t produce a great deal, but it was sure fun trying.
I kept asking to take lessons from Mrs. Madison who taught the seventh and eighth grades at school, even though I’d been warned about her evil eye.? My brothers said, even if her back was turned, she could whirl around and immediately level that eye on a wrong doer.? According to them, she never missed.? Of course, this kind of information is always handed out freely to younger siblings.
Still, she was my idol.? From the time I could remember I’d watched and listened to her bring forth music from an old upright, with the top lifted for more sound, at the dances my folks used to attend.? I didn’t think anyone who could play a piano like that could be all bad.? I wanted fiercely to be able to make a piano dance like she could.? I knew paying for lessons was out of the questions – yet, I asked, every day.
Finally one day, Mom said,
“You may have piano lessons, but you must practice without nagging, or they will stop immediately.”
You’ve heard of cloud nne, I was on the one called “ninety-nine.”? Thank you again, God.? Mom got another hug.
A talented cook, my mother traded one of her cooking skills for my lessons.? One cake a week paid for my hour lesson.? Can you believe that?? It’s the truth.? Every Saturday, rain or shine, and often with the wind blowing, I would carry my music books, with a covered cake on top of them, eight blocks to Mrs. Madison’s house.? Sometimes this was no simple feat.
Mom, made three different kinds of layer cakes – white, chocolate and spice.? This went on for three years, summers included, with but few exceptions.? By this time I was in the seventh grade and had witnessed, for myself, the use of the evil eye.? The boys were right, she was good.? Fortunately, I’d bee bypassed and she remained my good friend Mrs. Madison of the piano, who was adding this new and extra special dimension to my world.
My fourth and last year of lessons, I had to make my own cakes, because Mom didn’t want to anymore, and Mrs. Madison wouldn’t take cash.? Every Saturday, that last year I baked and frosted a cake for that afternoon’s lesson.? I did that until she told me we’d gone as far as we could go together.? For more lessons, she recommended a man in Spokane that some of her other students were seeing.? I knew this was out of the question.? Cakes weren’t going to work there.
Though I never learned to make my piano dance like she could, she taught me so much besides how to use the keyboard on a piano.? She gave me what education she could about other form of music, composers, etc. and I loved it all.
I played in school programs, for Sunday school and Church and served as accompanist many times for various occasions in the community.? During my las two years of high school, I played with a small dance band.? We did barn dances, proms and other school dances, for our school and the small schools near us.? All in all the lessons I did have served me well.
That special instrument remained at home until a few years after I married.? Then one day, the people who owned it came after it for their great granddaughter.? Though I was happy another little girl would have the chance I’d had, when they took it away, it left a big hole in Mom’s living room, and an even bigger one in my heart.
I now own my own piano – not nearly so grand as that one, but nevertheless adequate.? I play only for my own enjoyment.? It gives me particular pleasure to play the music my father loved to hear.
I am grateful for all the help I had along the way, but for the original opportunity.? I must say – “Dear Aunt Martha, no matter the faults assigned to you, wherever you are, I want you to know your thoughtfulness brought me a lifelong joy.”