Perhaps calling it a talent is going a little too far, but then again, I know plenty of people who would sigh, "You are talented; I wish I could do that," after hearing me play.
I play the piano.
Perhaps I should say "did." The piano is still here, in my new home, in a prominent place, but I don't often sit down and stroke its keys. Mostly because I don't have time, and mostly because to really get as good as I want to be, I would actually have to spend time practicing on a regular basis. Right now, my daily routines are taken by training for a triathlon, staying on a diet, and keeping up with this blog. Maybe someday soon I can work piano practice into my routine.
It all started before I was born. My parents heard about an old upright piano a church was getting rid of, but it was not just any old upright - it had a full size harp in it, so it was the very tall upright style. My dad wanted his children to learn to play the piano, so they brought it home to their garage and refinished the entire piano.
It's a beautiful piano. It's dark mahogany with elaborate scroll work all over the front. My parents flawlessly redid the veneer that was peeling off. The white keys are slightly yellowed now - after so many years and so many fingers, but they are still as beautiful as ever.
That piano adorned our living room for many years. On occasion we children were allowed to "play" it, even though we didn't have the slightest idea of what we were doing. Finally, when I was ten years old, my dad asked me if I wanted to learn how to play the piano.
My answer was an enthusiastic "yes."
Every week, he would meet me at the piano, listen to me play the two or three songs he had assigned me to master the week before, go over the lesson in the Bastien Piano Primer, and watch me struggle through the new songs a time or two. I learned the notes of the piano in no time, but I struggled with timing at first. I will never forget how my dad made me get off the piano bench and do different rhythm exercises - bobbing my head, stomping my feet, etc - until I could get the beat even.
It only took a year or two until he claimed he had taught me "all he knew," so I took off on my own. My parents willingly ordered me more piano lesson books, and I read the directions for lessons and tried to master the songs myself. Sometimes I succeeded; sometimes I failed. I always had fun. I learned to play four part hymns and that was what I spent most of the rest of my teen and early adult years doing - playing four part hymns. I learned a few arrangements, but I never learned to improvise and I never learned to play classical music, two musical goals I still have for myself to this day.
One day, when I was in my late teens, graduating high school, and my dad was trying to help me figure out what path I wanted to take after high school, we wrote down everything I enjoyed doing. Of course, playing the piano was on there. When I took the things I liked doing and moved them into a second column - things I could see myself working a job in - I didn't move piano playing. My dad asked why. I told him that it was because piano was something that was just for me.
I have never enjoyed playing for other people and probably never will. I'm glad I didn't have all the recitals that normally go along with learning to play the piano. I play just to hear to beauty of music and to destress. My mom used to joke that she always knew when I was stressed as a teenager - I would bang louder on the poor old piano. It's probably true.
Even today, when I have a need to vent or relax, I will pull out the bench and play one of the arrangements I know by heart. My fingers stumble and I need a lot of practice, but for those few moments, it brings peace to my heart to play.
One day, I will practice again regularly. One day, I will learn how to improvise. (I already have all the books to teach me how.) One day, I will learn to play classical music. Until then, playing the piano will be my hidden talent. Perhaps, even when I play again, it will still be my hidden talent.
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