Not sure what got me thinking about piano lessons this week. Perhaps it was hearing a piano player at Von Maur - the department store a couple times lately. Yeah, right, I sounded like that. NOT
The Bullock girls - Susan thru Leslie took piano lessons from Mrs. Sandhorst, my classmate Tom's mother (Tommy was the kid who peed around the floor tile clock in Kindergarten - Mrs. Christensen wasn't happy). I think Cindy also had a Sandhorst classmate (Nancy? - don't believe any peeing by her, at least in public).
The Sandhorsts lived in a modest home just a few blocks from our house. I started taking lessons in third grade. In decent weather, I would put my piano books into the white wicker basket (I ditched the plastic flowers) on my cool stingray bike and pedal over for my lesson.
At Mrs. Sandhorst's, the piano was in the front room - complete with a metronome on top. At first I was so thrilled to be doing what my big sis's were doing, making beautiful (maybe not...) music. Then practicing got to be a drag.
We had to do scales of course and learn to read music. We also had John Thompson piano music booklets - they were red. Oh how I loved some of the songs in those books. Of course I would sing along.
Our piano was in the playroom. Not sure why Mom and Dad didn't ever insulate that sucker - the playroom that is. You could see the floor joists - and the sound would just shoot right upstairs to the bedrooms from there.
When I was young, I didn't even consider the sounds I was producing. But the whole noise thing was distinctly brought to my attention when home from college, sleeping in with a hangover. Betsy was in the high school musical - can't remember the name. Bets was always an early riser, so there she was playing "Cotton Blossom" over and over again, singing along. Arghhh Betsy took lessons from my classmate Candice Drake.
Back to my piano playing days. I was happy to learn to play the ol favorites - that song you play with your fist. Chopsticks. And I like dinking around on the piano. But I was petrified about playing for recital! I'm proud to say I can still play a bit of one of my recital songs - Skip to my Lou - cross handed. I think Mrs. Sandhorst through me a bone there and gave me an easy song. By sixth grade, Mom realized I wasn't into it. I wasn't ever going to be Liberace. I was into horses and sports. She got tired of fighting the practice thing. So she let it go.
I never did learn to play the guitar, like Susi did at Camp Lake Hubert and lessons in Atlantic. Or the ukulele like Cindo did - it's on her wall at her house as a decoration now. I did enjoy Dad's bongo drums though- they were in the closet under the stairs. And that zippy zither fish thing he got in Mexico - it had ridges on it and you could run a stick across it to make noise. I wish I would have gotten a drum set - I coulda rocked at that - but looking back, the uninsulated playroom would not have been good for drums!
The Bullock girls - Susan thru Leslie took piano lessons from Mrs. Sandhorst, my classmate Tom's mother (Tommy was the kid who peed around the floor tile clock in Kindergarten - Mrs. Christensen wasn't happy). I think Cindy also had a Sandhorst classmate (Nancy? - don't believe any peeing by her, at least in public).
The Sandhorsts lived in a modest home just a few blocks from our house. I started taking lessons in third grade. In decent weather, I would put my piano books into the white wicker basket (I ditched the plastic flowers) on my cool stingray bike and pedal over for my lesson.
At Mrs. Sandhorst's, the piano was in the front room - complete with a metronome on top. At first I was so thrilled to be doing what my big sis's were doing, making beautiful (maybe not...) music. Then practicing got to be a drag.
We had to do scales of course and learn to read music. We also had John Thompson piano music booklets - they were red. Oh how I loved some of the songs in those books. Of course I would sing along.
Our piano was in the playroom. Not sure why Mom and Dad didn't ever insulate that sucker - the playroom that is. You could see the floor joists - and the sound would just shoot right upstairs to the bedrooms from there.
When I was young, I didn't even consider the sounds I was producing. But the whole noise thing was distinctly brought to my attention when home from college, sleeping in with a hangover. Betsy was in the high school musical - can't remember the name. Bets was always an early riser, so there she was playing "Cotton Blossom" over and over again, singing along. Arghhh Betsy took lessons from my classmate Candice Drake.
Back to my piano playing days. I was happy to learn to play the ol favorites - that song you play with your fist. Chopsticks. And I like dinking around on the piano. But I was petrified about playing for recital! I'm proud to say I can still play a bit of one of my recital songs - Skip to my Lou - cross handed. I think Mrs. Sandhorst through me a bone there and gave me an easy song. By sixth grade, Mom realized I wasn't into it. I wasn't ever going to be Liberace. I was into horses and sports. She got tired of fighting the practice thing. So she let it go.
I never did learn to play the guitar, like Susi did at Camp Lake Hubert and lessons in Atlantic. Or the ukulele like Cindo did - it's on her wall at her house as a decoration now. I did enjoy Dad's bongo drums though- they were in the closet under the stairs. And that zippy zither fish thing he got in Mexico - it had ridges on it and you could run a stick across it to make noise. I wish I would have gotten a drum set - I coulda rocked at that - but looking back, the uninsulated playroom would not have been good for drums!
3 comments:
It was Showboat, the musical. Never going to live that one down, am I? LOL!
Nope. Did you have another piano teacher before Candice?
Laurie Reinertson taught me for a while, I think?
Post a Comment