A Personal Pandemic Project — Piano Lessons, Dr. Ed Iannuccilli

A Personal Pandemic Project — Piano Lessons, Dr. Ed Iannuccilli

I walk by our piano every day, and for years, it looked up at me, begging, “Am I going to just sit here holding a lamp, birthday and holiday cards on my lid and the closed music sheets on my rack? Am I just here to gather dust?”

When Diane suggested that we should sell the piano, that was enough. I made my move and started lessons. I have taken four, and I declare, “It ain’t easy!”

Even though I consider myself a lifetime student; even though I have been enrolled in one Italian class or another for the past fifteen years (no quizzes); even though I am always looking for a new project, this is different. I am alone with my teacher in a new world, and I cannot fall back on the solace of classmates.

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It is an odd sensation to be an absolute beginner at my age. As I journeyed to my first lesson, I pondered, “Should I even do this? Who, what, will give me another fifteen years to master this instrument? Is that enough?” I stopped the car in front of the music academy and, as I tapped my foot, I wondered, “Wouldn’t it be great to play ‘Ain’t She Sweet?’ or ‘Satin Doll?”  

As a senior citizen, it seems that my processing speed has drifted a bit. Nestled among middle C’s, flats, accidentals, whole, half, quarters, and eighth notes, I was bewildered in unfamiliar territory. Aha, wait, I see Italian! Allegro, andante, moderato, and more. The piano bench is getting more comfortable, beginning to fit like a broken-in baseball glove.

Inherently neurotic and determined, I dusted the keys of our grinning keyboard and practiced from thirty to forty minutes every day. I was enjoying my progress. After all, I can’t disappoint the teacher, a keen observer and so close that I could appreciate his deep breaths as he posited and pointed, “Look here. Take it slowly.”

The book’s title, “Music for the Older Beginner,” was a bit off-putting at first, but as time went on, it fit. It was music. I was the older beginner. “Oh, When the Saints Go Marching In” was in the playbook. I did it and loved it, though I never played a black key. Soon enough.

The ‘F’ key of the once dormant instrument is sticky, and I must nudge it with my finger to play the note. It didn’t matter at first because I was going at snail’s pace anyway. Nonetheless, the piano needed tuning and tuning up, and the tuner is on his way.

Here is what has happened in the first few weeks. I am over the fear of not being good enough. It doesn’t matter. My passing interest has been sparked. I am making strides, albeit gradual. I have moved from middle C to the G chord.

I’m learning to play the piano; now in the category of ‘late bloomer’ and loving every minute.

P.S.  The Piano Tuner has arrived!

 

Dr. Ed Iannuccilli is the author of three popular memoirs, “Growing up Italian; Grandfather’s Fig Tree and Other Stories”, “What Ever Happened to Sunday Dinner” and “My Story Continues: From Neighborhood to Junior High.”  Learn more here.