When I was just a sapling in the forest of life, knees all scuffed up and dreams as tall as “Star Wars”, a piano was thrust into my path. Back then, I felt about as much enthusiasm for piano lessons as for Saturday chores. Little did I know that this polished wooden creature, of sorts, would turn into the center of my life.
Enter stage right, my little sis, Ashley, a ball of energy with a head of wild curls and a spirit to match. She managed to coax the “My Little Pony” theme song out of those daunting black and white keys. Somehow, like a sorceress!
She was just as good at this as I was at reading the TV Guide.
Now, I had heard MLP a thousand times blaring from our living room television, but this was different. I listened from inside the bathroom. Inside those walls! My parents – they were way too excited – I mean, they couldn’t have been more chuffed if she’d won the National Spelling Bee. The house echoed with their “ooohs” and “aaahs,” and I’ll admit, it stoked the fires of envy within me. Funny how Charlie Munger, the sage of investing, got it right when he said, “The world is driven by envy.”
With me it wasn’t exactly envy, because I wanted the best for her.
But I wanted that. That crazy power. Alright, I don’t know if it was power. But whatever it was, it was pure magic. It was the stuff, as Quincy Jones would write about in his latest book, “The stuff dreams are made of.”
But the winds of change are fickle, and Ashley’s fleeting romance with the piano was over faster than a summer thunderstorm. (Side note: This attitude seemed really pick up again in college.)
On the other hand, I found myself drawn to the instrument like a moth to a flame. There was something in the challenge, in the mastery of it, that intrigued me. I spent the waning afternoon light bent over those keys, bringing to life the notes of ‘Cheers’, ‘Star Wars’, ‘Superman’, and ‘Axl F’ from ‘Beverly Hills Cop’. The piano was my sandbox, my playground, my field of dreams.
Oh! And then I found – oh yeah – THE BEATLES.
And I would just hammer on those songs. And when I was done with this, I would hear my mom playing John Lennon from the living room.
Now, my folks were of the easy-going kind, the sort who’d let you walk your own path rather than tread one out for you. So, my new-found piano fever was left to its own devices. It would be up to me to practice, basically. My piano teacher wasn’t such a big fan of my practicing style.
My mother did, however, have a list of daily tasks for me, a neat little collection of chores like tidying up my room, doing the laundry, and, of course, a mandatory ten minutes of piano practice. Monitored by a kitchen timer that sat atop the piano like a watchful guardian, I’d dutifully click through it each day. (You know, I still use a timer to this day – there’s something reassuring in the predictability of it all.)
Soon – it catch fire. And I didn’t need a timer anymore. I was playing for fun. Oh yeah, all afternoon, too. I can’t imagine what the people in our neighborhood thought with that window SO wide open!
YEARS LATER
Yet, as time ticked on, later in life, I started wondering, was the piano a boon or a burden?
Today, as I guide my own children through life’s labyrinth, I often reflect on old Ben Franklin’s wisdom, “Not to do things that are unnecessary.” But the question remains, what’s necessary and what’s excess?
Looking back, I can’t deny the piano’s imprint on my life. In many ways, it was more than an instrument; it was a teacher, a friend, a challenge. It honed my cognitive skills, sharpened my focus, and ignited a lifelong passion for music. And there’s a certain magic that comes with music – an ability to capture and express the inexpressible, to touch the heart, to heal the soul. Sure, I might’ve overindulged a bit, spent one too many hours lost in melodies and harmonies. But then again, too much of anything is never good, right? Is this true?
And now, years later, I have to ask:
Yeah, it’s amazing, but did I have to make all those bands?
Think of the time I put into it – my GOD!
Years of my life! Sitting around and tinkering! Holy crap! And not getting paid for any of it! Broke in my little apartment!
Women left me.
I mean.
We live in a world that doesn’t always appreciate art, where making music often pays as well as chasing rainbows. But there’s an intensity to musicians, a drive, a relentless pursuit of perfection that’s awe-inspiring. They’re some of the hardest workers I know, able to immerse themselves in their craft, lose track of time, and emerge, hours later, with something beautiful to show for it. It’s not work to them – it’s just having fun.
As for my own brood, I hope they’ll find their own path, their own passion. Coding, soccer, painting – it’s all game. They need to discover their own “piano,” the thing that sets their hearts on fire. After all, in the grand symphony of life, each of us must find our unique rhythm and melody. The road less traveled, as they say, can sometimes make all the difference.
Still, as I look back, I see the piano wasn’t just about music. No, it was more than that. It was about the commitment, the discipline, the grind. It was about sticking to something even when it wasn’t all sunshine and roses. Sitting in front of those keys, day in and day out, I learned about perseverance. About picking myself up when a piece seemed too tough, when my fingers fumbled and stumbled over the keys. About trying, failing, and trying again. Valuable lessons, those. Lessons that served me well beyond the piano bench.
I can’t help but chuckle as I think about it now. My journey with the piano began because of a sibling rivalry, a spark of envy. But along the way, it morphed into something more, something profound. It became a part of me, shaping who I am, defining what I value. And to this day, the sound of a well-played piano can stop me in my tracks. If I hear classical piano on the radio – I might be stuck for who knows how long?
Now, as a father, I ponder on what to pass onto my own kids. In a world where the pace of change is dizzying, where new tech seems to render old skills obsolete overnight, what’s the right path? Sure, I want them to learn coding, to be ready for the digital future. But I also want them to learn music, to appreciate the beauty of a well-composed melody, to understand the joy of creating something out of nothing.
In the end, I guess it’s all about balance, isn’t it? About teaching them to strive for excellence without losing sight of what truly matters. To seek success without sacrificing happiness. To dream big, but also enjoy the journey.
Life, much like a piano, is a complex instrument. It takes practice, patience, and a fair share of discordant notes to create a beautiful melody. It’s about mastering the art of timing, understanding when to step up the tempo and when to slow things down. And no matter how many wrong notes you hit, it’s never too late to adjust your tune, to find your rhythm, and make life beautiful.
The piano, you see, was necessary, not just to my childhood, but to the person I became.
This looks like a cool Missoula program – Play Piano Academy – https://www.playpianomt.com/
John Michaels, a Missoula native and author, has been captivating readers with his writing for years. A graduate of Brown University’s esteemed creative writing program, Michaels has spent the majority of his career crafting stories that resonate with his readers and capture the essence of the human experience. Despite the demands of raising children, Michaels has continued to pursue his passions, finding solace in the bustling downtown Missoula scene. There, he spends his free time honing his craft, whether it be working on short stories, playing music, or dedicating himself to his work at Sunflower Counseling, MT.