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I wish I could play the piano. To hear music played beautifully is surely a gift. I really must give it a try.
By Alexandra URL on 09.24.2013
Miss Figley was my piano teacher and just a vision of her still makes me cringe. She played beautifully but the smell of her old Victorian house on Antietam Street gags me. It smelled of sad ages gone by when she was a young girl, had parents and lived live young. Sure, I learned a bit to play and always love piano music and still long for a cooler teacher like Vicki had after I left town. Before that my mother wouldn’t hear of changing teachers because “Diana Long learned from her and Bea Long made the referral.” It was always about what others did or thought that deemed what was right for me. I guess most of the time I just ‘took’ it and then my voice could not longer stand it and Boom! Screams, I hate you for doing this to me! No one taught me genuine and quiet conversation except at Grandma Miller’s house. And, I remember the day they had some men come and take the old piano away.
By Karen Dellinger on 09.24.2013
a division of Identity Crisis, Inc.