These are difficult days. So many questions, so much confusion, so many tears. Yesterday’s rain reminded me that we have hope. And though there are more hard days ahead, we cannot give up. We must come together, lift each other up, and continue on…one step and a time. ❤
Raindrops teased All morning long Falling a few At a time With quiet Drip-drops Barely enough To dampen my hair By late afternoon The sky grew dark- No longer playing Their little game, The frightened raindrops Huddled together Creating steady streams Flowing down from Cloud to ground- Proving there is Strength in numbers, The brave raindrops Transformed themselves Into a wall of water Like a transparent curtain Hanging from the sky- Suddenly, the curtain fell No longer flowing From cloud to sky Now a blanket of water Flowing downward Across the landscape Carrying away All the sorrows Of the day- And the sun began to shine.
“Have You Ever Seen the Rain” Kelley Morris, piano
Someone told me long ago There’s a calm before the storm I know, it’s been comin’ for some time When it’s over, so they say It’ll rain another day I know, shinin’ down like water
I want to know, have you ever seen the rain? I want to know, have you ever seen the rain? Comin’ down on a sunny day
I love seeing birthday celebrations for those who’ve made it to one-hundred. A century is a log time-so many things to witness and experience. These individuals always seem to have a funny, yet wise piece of advice. Two I recently read were-just keep going and take naps. ❤
Birthday Wish
I always say I’d like to live At least a Hundred years Since I’m over Half-way there The thought doesn’t Seem so strange My family would plan A great big party Biggest cake You’ve ever seen With one hundred Sparkling candles Lighting up The entire room Sitting at the piano I’d play a familiar tune As party guests loudly sang Happy birthday to me! I’d blow out all the candles And make my birthday wish A hundred-year-old hope For lasting peace and rest
100 Years-Five for Fighting I’m ninety nine for a moment Dying for just another moment And I’m just dreaming Counting the ways to where you are Fifteen there’s still time for you Twenty two I feel her too Thirty three you’re on your way Every day’s a new day Fifteen there’s still time for you Time to buy and time to choose Hey fifteen, there’s never a wish better than this When you only got hundred years to live
Last week a piano technician came and tuned my new piano. Even though it is a beautiful new instrument, there are several reasons it needed tuning. Being moved to a new location. Sitting in a different space, with different temperatures, on a different type of floor. All factors that affect the way it sounds.
I listened as the technician worked. She listened to such tiny details. The way she would tune one note to its octave counterpart. When I played those notes together in a chord, I didn’t notice that they were out of tune. But hearing her pick them all apart, it was obvious.
The mechanics of a piano are fascinating. My explanation to students is usually simplified. Your finger presses down the key, which causes a hammer inside the piano to strike a string producing the sound.
Watching my piano being taken apart, actually viewing the insides, gave me a new perspective. Each piece has its place and must be perfectly aligned to produce a high-quality sound. Even a new piano needs time to adjust and sometimes requires a little assistance.
One thing stood out above the rest, voicing. I asked the technician about adjusting the voicing, making it a little less bright. Basically, taking the edge off of the sound. She explained that part of that process involves the felt material on the hammers.
A needle is used to soften the felt. When done correctly, it does not damage the material. It just slightly changes the way the hammers strike the strings.
Once the piano was put back together, I sat down to play. Wow! What a difference. Not only was it in tune, but it also had a much warmer tone. The sharp edge had been softened.
This experience made me think about my life. What if I’m in a new place, with new surroundings, expectations, and people? What if my reaction is one of fear or frustration? My words may sound edgy, sharp, or out of tune.
Like the felt on those hammers, something inside me needs to be softened. An adjustment might come in the form of an honest word from a trusted friend. Yes, stings for a moment. But the sting will not last if accepted with grace. The knowledge that someone loves me that much, however, is lasting.
Hopefully, as I continue playing my piano, I will be reminded to check my own tone. And will gracefully accept any needed adjustments to keep me in-tune with my husband and children, family and friends, the world around me.
“As iron sharpens iron, so a man sharpens the countenance of his friend.” Proverbs 27:17
Schumann Arabesque Opus 18. One of my favorite piano pieces. Only the beginning theme and the conclusion. ❤
My dad loves classic country music. Growing up, we would always listen to The Grand Ole Opry on AM radio, static and all. Sometimes, it would drive me crazy but thinking about it now makes me smile.
He also had quite a collection of 8 track tapes, all country, that we would listen to in his truck. Charlie Pride, Charlie Rich, Loretta Lynn, and Conway Twitty were some of his favorites. And though I don’t currently listen much to country music, I loved listening to it back then.
That love stemmed from two things. First, it was, and still is, great music. But more importantly, it was my dad’s music. And for that reason, it will continue to influence my life.
Music has so much variety, so many genres. Each new style influenced by the previous. Whether I like them all or not, I can appreciate them for their place in music history.
I have recently shared some recordings of myself playing favorites on the piano. They’ve included some Classical Scarlatti, Romantic Brahms, hymns and James Taylor. Honestly, no country songs crossed my mind…until now.
My mom called after listening to my latest recording. We chatted for a few minutes. As we were about to say goodbye, I could hear my dad in the background. My mom chuckled and said, “Dad says you need to record his favorite song.”
So, what is his favorite song? It is a piano solo recorded by country musician Floyd Cramer in 1960. If my dad ever has a music request for me, it is that song. I learned to play it years ago.
Why had I not thought to record this song already? I do not know.
Revisiting a page Filled with notes First learned Many years ago A glance brings Faded memories Of piano keys Under my fingers Muscle memory begins To clear away Cobwebs collected In silence Words and symbols Carefully written On the page Bring a smile Valuable reminders Purposefully placed by The trusted hand Of a teacher- Oh, if only Squinting eyes Revealed someone Sitting nearby- A guide Patiently leading Beyond space And time Beyond notes And rhythms Shedding light On the mysterious Sound of Rich harmonies Surrounding Hidden melodies Listening intently as Eyes and hands Once again read Notes on a page
There is something I have wanted for quite a while. A material possession, but so much more. An object, but also an extension of my being.
If you are a musician, you will understand. An artist, a writer-anyone who utilizes something material to help express their innermost thoughts, emotions, and feelings-you will relate.
I am sure you have guessed by now. A piano.
I have played many pianos in my lifetime. Starting with the old upright at my grandmother’s house and then the spinet my parents bought me when I was a girl. We have had a couple of pianos in our home. The most recent, an electronic piano.
While I am thankful for the technological capabilities, I miss practicing on an acoustic piano. Due to my recent neck and arm issues, I struggle with the touch. Now that we are home for this unknown period, I desperately want to practice.
I know he will not want any recognition, but he is getting it anyway. My sweet husband understands this connection to the piano. He understands my need to play.
We had been talking about getting a new piano. Looking ahead to summer. Those kinds of plans are easier to focus on when school is not in session. Then everything changed.
Suddenly, there was no more going back after spring break. The reality that we would be home for an extended time began to set in. I began to feel restless.
After some research, we arranged for me to safely test out four pianos. The one I chose was delivered last week. My mom has already received a recording. Some friends suggested a FaceTime concert. The possibilities are endless!
No, this does not change our current world situation. However, it will bring a little joy to my corner of the world. And just maybe, that joy will spread. That is certainly my hope. On that note, here are my first couple of recordings.
I have always been fascinated by the connections between music and math. And I love using math concepts to teach music. No, they are not exactly the same. But they do work together beautifully.
Today in music class, students were introduced to that connection. And they used it to become composers.
The premise was simple. Students would write four sets of four numbers (using only 1-5) on a notecard. The groups of numbers would then be translated into a melody, using the notes C, D, E, F, and G.
Before students chose their number groups, we talked about patterns. First, we studied the patterns on the keyboard. We discussed how numbers in a pattern can step up and down, skip, or repeat. Just like a melody.
2, 3, 2, 3…
With this in mind, each student received a notecard. They divided it into fourths, creating four boxes. Each box was then filled with four numbers of their choosing.
There were students, notecards, and pencils everywhere! It was loud! Controlled chaos, I like to say. But it was awesome!
Once students completed their pattern cards, I planned to play their melodies on the piano.
The response from my fifth-grade class was precious. And “precious” is not a word I often use to describe fifth graders. 😉
As I began to play the compositions, students huddled around the piano. Each one crowded in, trying to hand me their card next. Each one sheepishly smiled as they heard their creation. I wish I could have snapped a picture.
Maybe the actual composing was more logic than creativity. But the outcome was music, nonetheless. Even if it was music created by the numbers.
The image remains Though faded Old and upright Tall, black, majestic Eighty-eight keys in a row Sitting on the bench Beautiful patterns Come into focus Two-three-two-three A perfect guide For little hands Learning to play Roll knuckles up Tap twice Repeat Roll knuckles down Tap twice Repeat I dropped My dolly In the dirt A love that began With simple melodies Played on ivories Prominently placed In Grandma’s Dining room How I wish I could play Those simple melodies One more time For my Grandma On her old piano
