There has always been music around me. When I was just a small child my father would wake me up singing things like “Wake Up Little Suzzie” or “You Ain’t Nothing But A Hound Dog”. At the age of eight my parents made arrangements for my aunt to give me piano lessons. I drank up the lessons on notes like a wino devours his last bottle. It just wasn’t possible for me to get enough of it.
Unfortunately for me, the more time I spent on the piano the less time I spent on my studies. When my grades began to plummet, so did the lessons. To my parents way of thinking that was the quick fix to the problem. My grades only improved to a marginal level. It wasn’t that I wasn’t smart or anything, but that I just got bored easily. Music for me was a calming tool that made all my thoughts come together.
The piano in our house sat idle, just there for me to look at. Not being allowed to play, I soon lost the desire to. Oh the notes rolled around in my head still but they no longer had meaning. Five years went by, I guess my parents finally figured out that without music I was nothing. On my thirteen birthday I was handed a very large box. It contained a guitar. A short time later my father took me to town for guitar lessons. It wasn’t the piano but my fingers seemed drawn to it. I played for the church youth group and for anyone who listened.
I had no desire to play professionally, but in 1995 my husband and I went to Nashville to do a TV show. While it was fun, that was all it was to me. Oh we talked to artists and producers and it became very apparent that talent had nothing to do with getting a record deal. By the time the producers, songwriters and managers get their cut there is little left for the artist. Not the kind of lifestyle I wanted.
At 69, I still play for church on occasion and senior citizen functions and that is just fine with me. The moral of this story is do what make you happy not necessarily what makes other people happy. If you make other people happy, that’s a bonus!