Piano lessons

I started taking piano lessons when I was 7. My first piano teacher was our church pianist, Mrs. Strike. I loved her as a teacher, and was truly, truly disappointed when she decided she couldn't teach me anymore.

The picture above is me at my first recital. I was so proud that day. But there is, of course, a story that goes along with the first recital picture.

I can't remember the title of the piece is was some Mozart sonata. And my new teacher (Miss Dolores) had told me I had to slow down; that I was playing the piece much too fast. I am now 9 years old, and understood fully what slow down meant. But, did that matter? No, of course not. When I took my seat at the piano, my first and foremost thought was to play the piece without a mistake. I did. No mistakes -- just one -- I played it way too fast. My fingers fairly flew across those keys. I still got applause from the audience. I was not the only student playing in this particular recital. There were many of us -- all students at the Hegaman School of Music in Runnemede, NJ. It was on "The Pike" just north of 8th Avenue. I believe there is a florist in that building now.

Anyway, it was one of the rare times that I got a new dress (not a hand-me-down). This dress was particularly beautiful -- I thought. I was a pale pink, dotted swiss material. And it was in style (something most of my hand-me-down clothes were not).

I guess I should be grateful for all the hand-me-down clothes my family received. Most of the clothes were nice, albeit a bit old-fashioned.

Back to the subject at hand. I took piano lessons for 10 years. I took organ lessons for 6 years, and I took violin lessons for 4 years. I played in the Hegaman School of Music orchestra (violin), and I played the piano and/or the organ at church from my 12th year on.

I loved to play the piano. And the faster the piece, the better I liked it. My hands were small, so playing pieces with lots of stretched out chords was difficult, and I often had to leave off one of the notes. My friend, Kathy, was so good at the chorded music, and I envied her having larger hands and being able to play the more agressive music like Grieg's piano concerto. I was stuck with Bach and Mozart.

I loved (still do) playing Bach. It was like a puzzle to me, fitting the musical pieces together to form a beautiful piece of music.

When I practiced, if I made a mistake my dad would call out, "Judith, play it right." And even if he was out in the yard, or talking with someone outdoor, if he heard me make a mistake he'd yell, "Judith, play it right."

One time I went to a symphony concert in Cincinnat, OH and the piece was something by Mahler. It was quite discordent in spots, and I wanted to badly to yell "Play it right," even though I knew the orchestra was playing it right.

I'm pleased that a couple of my grandchildren are taking to the piano. I pray that at least one of them will enjoy it as much as I did.