February 9/365 Piano, Part One

The Kimball console collects dust in our library. It was a practical, economy model that my mother somehow bankrolled so that my sisters and I could learn to play. Cindy didn’t try, Cheri lasted for about a year, and I kept at it for a couple more, until Mrs. Molinari’s disdain collided with my teenage sensibility. I keep it in tune.

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5 thoughts on “February 9/365 Piano, Part One

  1. Mrs. Molinari? My piano teacher in early adolescence (mine, not his) was Mr. Muratori. I remember his name not because of our lessons, but because when I decided I didn’t want to practice any more I refused to answer the door when he rang the bell. He was a nice man, and I do regret my behavior.

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  2. When we first looked at the house we now live in, there was a baby grand piano in the living room. Our neighbors who have a house nearly identical to ours have an upright in theirs.

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