My Mother’s Piano

My mother's baby grand piano¹ sat in the southwest corner of the living room at 818, the house I grew up in.

She taught me the basics: where middle C is, how to hold my hands over the keyboard, that sort of thing. A lifetime later, I know that I could have paid more attention. But I'm glad to have learned what I did.

Somewhere along the line she had me learn to play "D'ye ken John Peel?" / "Do you know John Peel?" — a surprise for my father. It was supposed to be a secret. So, of course, as soon as he came home, I blurted out what I was learning.

Learning impulse control is a work in progress. But I am getting better....

More at A Catholic Citizen in America.

(The piano sat in the southwest corner of the living room at 818, where I grew up. Pianos do not last forever, so now the family is deciding what we do with the old musical instrument.)