The School of Hard Knocks

Sometimes I’m thick-headed.

Sometimes I have to be taught a lesson multiple times.

Those lessons can be painful.

Lessons like, “Get to know someone really well before deciding to marry them.”

Or, “Don’t have sex with someone you’re not married to.”

I think I’ve finally learned those lessons now.

I hope so.  They’ve come at a high price.

Piano lessons

He was old then.  Eighty-six.  And a perfectionist.

He had a poster of Uncle Sam.  I want YOU to practice EVERY DAY.

I’d just finished kindergarten.

I’d been begging my mom for piano lessons since I was three.

After the first lesson I wanted to quit.  She wouldn’t let me.

It ended eleven years later.

He had me play the same piece.  Over and over.  The whole hour.

He’d had a stroke.

I was free.

He died two months later.

In between I got to be a decent pianist.

I had a good ear.

Never developed the ability to sight-read, though.

I forgot most of what I learned.

I’ve barely played in the last twenty years.

I should pick it up again.