Country Road

On February 19, 2019 By Piano girl2 Comments

My daughter, Rachel, and I saw James Taylor in concert yesterday evening. This was my sixth JT concert over the past 26 years, Rachel’s first. I can truly say he never disappoints. His songs are timeless and his sound seems to grow stronger and warmer with age-kind, genuine, personal.

Listening to his songs has a way of lifting my spirits. Obviously, he did not write any of them for me. 😉 Yet, particular ones remind me of specific times and places from my own life. Country Road immediately comes to mind. Hearing it again last evening…beautiful.

I guess my feet know where they want me to go
Walking on a country road

Just the thought of this song makes me smile. Hearing it live and in person transports me back to my childhood. Riding my bike and going for walks down our country road. Always with the specific instructions, “Do not go past the red clay hill!”

This winding road from my parents’ house to the highway is only about ¼ of a mile long. As a kid, however, it seemed much longer, mysterious. Thick forest on each side of the pavement made for limited visibility. Any rustle in the leaves had the power to trigger our wild imaginations. Although there have been rare sightings of bears and big cats in the past, I’m certain most of our unexplained noises came from birds and lizards.

I walked down that road many times for many reasons. Playing with my cousins, getting some fresh air, eating too much Thanksgiving dinner, spending time with a special aunt or a friend. Walking, talking, running, riding…a foundational place in my growing up.

Some things have changed over the years. The forest thinned. A few houses now scattered in the woods, visible through the trees. No more red clay hill. Yet, there continues to be something special about taking a walk down that road.

Memories may fade over time. Great songwriters have the power to bring those memories back to life. Singer/songwriters like James Taylor. Songs like Country Road. Take a listen. https://youtu.be/2Dsph5uikX0

My Red, Ceramic, Music Box Piano

On December 14, 2018 By Piano girlLeave a comment

I have a small collection of miniature pianos. The very first one was a gift from my mom-a red, ceramic, upright piano with a cute little round stool. I’ve had this piano for as long as I can remember.

There is one more thing which makes this piano extra special. It’s a music box! A metal key on the back must be turned to begin its song. And what song does my red piano play? Raindrops Keep Falling on My Head. If I turned the piano key today, the music would play at an extremely slothful pace, making the song nearly unrecognizable.

So much joy came from turning that key when I was a kid. If I sit quietly and listen, the song still plays in my head. Fast to slow, then stopping as the mechanism winds down. The melody and the lyrics fill my thoughts, just as they did when I was a little girl.

So I just did me some talking to the sun
And I said I didn’t like the way he got things done
Sleeping on the job
Those raindrops keep falling on my head,
They keep fallin’

Funny words for a song. Childlike in nature. I can picture a little girl standing in the rain, shaking her finger towards the sky. Asking the sun why it went away. Wanting the rain to stop.

I really hadn’t given much thought to the history behind the song until now. The original singer was B.J. Thomas. I’m certain I heard his recording on the radio. What I didn’t know-it was written for the movie “Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid” and won an Academy Award. How exciting!

It’s funny. I started thinking about this song yesterday in conjunction with my red, ceramic, music box piano. And then today, it rained all day long. Actually, it’s still raining now. Which leads me to the bridge section of the song.

But there’s one thing I know
The blues they send to meet me
Won’t defeat me, it won’t be long
‘Till happiness steps up to greet me

Now that the day is ending, even though the rain is still falling, I’ll choose to look for that happiness. The happiness which comes from simple things. Simple things like the last line of this song:

Because I'm free
Nothing's worrying me

Simple things like my red, ceramic, music box piano and the precious memories it brings.

Schemes to Switches

On October 29, 2018October 31, 2018 By Piano girlLeave a comment

I’ve previously mentioned that my husband loves referring to me as a schemer. Once an idea enters my thoughts I work to make it a reality. This particular trait appeared way before meeting him. I’m certain my mom could testify. One example from my childhood stands out clearly above the rest.

I don’t remember exactly our age, definitely younger than ten. The “we” was me and my cousin Rebecca, a great schemer in her own right. Born only twenty days apart, we were always close growing up. Rebecca has five younger sisters. Imagine seven little girls when you added me to the mix!

~Me and Rebecca~

There was one specific instance when I’d been invited to spend a few days with my cousins. We all piled into their Volkswagen Bug and began the thirty-minute drive to their house. During the short trip, Rebecca and I immediately began plotting.

Our scheme? Secretly sneak out of their house and walk several miles down a dirt road to visit her Uncle Jack and his family. Why were we being sneaky? I have no idea! But we were all ready to go the next morning.

There was one small problem. Barbara, one of the younger sisters apparently overheard our conversation and insisted on tagging along. What if we said no? She would tattle on us, of course!

Off went our little trio, down the long driveway, and out onto the dirt road. We were not even past the house when we heard Aunt Mary’s voice, “Rebecca? Kelley? Barbara? Where are you, girls?” We attempted hiding in the ditch, but Barbara started to cry. Shushing her proved impossible and we were quickly discovered.

Our adventure was foiled, and talk about being in trouble. Aunt Mary took a switch to our legs while we ran around the yard like a bunch of chickens. Though the switch didn’t really hurt us, it did help teach us a valuable lesson. Seeing this now as a parent, I’m certain we caused Aunt Mary a great deal of panic. She was, after all, attempting to keep up with seven young girls.

~The six sisters and me all grown up~

Reminiscing over this little adventure has brought lots of laughter over the years. But the best part of the story is yet to come. To this day if we mention it around Aunt Mary, she still feels terrible about switching us! Forty plus years later! She has to be one of the most kind, patient, calm people I’ve ever known. Managing all of us girls while keeping her sanity had to be challenging.

~My mom and her sister, my Aunt Mary~

Did our scheming pay off in the end? Well, not exactly the way we had planned. We did learn an important life lesson about being safe. But even more important, we were reminded then and continue to be reminded now, how much we are loved.

I love you, Aunt Mary

Going Home

On October 3, 2018October 3, 2018 By Piano girlLeave a comment

Growing up, giving directions to my house was always interesting. It went something like this…”Drive past the Natural Steps sign and Moreland’s Grocery Store, go around a sharp curve, over a hill, then you’ll see a straight stretch of road. Right at the end of the straight stretch, turn left onto Mahar Road.” Mahar is my mom’s maiden name, hence the name of the road.

My husband likes to tell people that I grew up in a commune, but that is not the case. The quarter of a mile road, lined with trees on both sides, dead ends into a wide-open valley. My grandparent’s house was in the center, surrounded by several homes belonging to my aunts, uncles, and my parents. Huge oaks, towering pines, and grassy fields provided plenty of room for kids to run and play.

That’s where I spent my childhood-riding bikes, digging in the dirt, playing kickball and basketball with my cousins. And since my mom had six sisters and two brothers, there were always cousins around. They say I made them listen to me practice piano and violin…well, maybe a few times. But most of the time, we were outside. Distinct memories include singing at the top of my lungs while riding bicycles, trying to fool my uncle with mud pies, and playing “King of the Mountain” on Grandma’s front porch.

Almost thirty-three years have passed since I lived on Mahar Road. Even while typing I think surely that can’t be correct! Oh, but it is…despite the years gone by and having a family of my own, I still refer to this special place as home. I’m thankful to have grown up there-carefree, no worries about safety, room to let our imaginations run wild.

Of course, things have changed since I was a child. My grandparents are no longer living, cousins are all grown and many, just like me, have moved away. That doesn’t matter. Simply driving the route that leads to home causes any anxiety to melt away. My brain slows down, my body relaxes, and while there I truly rest. Sometimes I even feel like a kid again.

Thinking about my childhood reminds me that home is so much more than a house. It’s the people, the places, the memories. And sometimes…you just need to go home.