\The 88th day
of a calendar year
is a hooray for the piano,
proud modern clavier.
Eighty-eight keys
to knot up our fingers,
uncountable hours
that put us through wringers.
Lessons and practice
dulling many a day,
but what a delight
to just sit down and play.
From Czerny to Joplin
is an arduous travel
and can make your resolve
and your neurons unravel,
but the family and friends
who won’t whimper or squawk
will help you endure —
they’ll have your Bach!
The time that it takes
to learn the technique
makes thousands of hours
dismal and bleak,
but just when you think
it’s too much to withstand
the mystery of music
flows out of your hand.
Eventually it comes,
a soul satisfaction,
after dragging delay of
gratification.
So whether some Gershwin
or Schubertian lieder,
may a piano today
accompany you, dear reader!
As some of you know from my blog, I lived through many, many years of piano lessons. I hated my lessons and I hated practicing, but, boy, did I love to play. My piano was my upper and my downer and my go-to for the stress du jour.
As I understood it, my piano teacher was, pedagogically speaking, a descendant of Liszt. This did not work well for me because, as everyone knows, Liszt had three hands. The expectations were hardly realistic for those of us with a mere two.
Nonetheless, like others, I persisted. Persistence and piano go together. Today I salute the teachers of both. Happy Piano Day, dear reader! And thanks to my friends Donna and Bill who tuned me into it!