What I Wish I Knew Before Learning to Play the Piano

Do not wait until you are 58

When I was nine years old, I fell in love with a piano. It was a big, dark, shiny object in the living room of a friend from school. He lifted the lid for me, showing me the keys, white and black, arranged in a beautiful, mysterious pattern.

Then, he pressed a key. A single note, as dark and shiny as the instrument itself rang out, filling the room and my eager mind. And in my mind it remained.

Pianos are expensive and my parents did not have the money for one. So far, I was taken with the idea of an instrument but without a piano, I never even thought of lessons.

At some point, a tiny plastic organ arrived. A small keyboard with separate keys for chords on the left, a bit like some accordeons. I played that instrument for all I was worth, trying to pick out songs by ear. I made some progress, but not a lot.

Nevertheless, I had my 15 seconds of fame when we visited my mother’s sister who had married an older man of substantial means. In his living room (it was very much still his living room, not my aunt’s) was a grand piano. While he was singing the praises of his son and heir apparent, I played one of the songs I had taught myself on the little organ on the grand piano. While the rich husband indulgently…