Yield

Isn't is amazing how life can plod along so much the same that we take it for granted? We have our family, our jobs, our responsibilities, and our errands. And then something happens.
My presentation Wednesday went well, I think. I smiled. Another time, I may share it here, perhaps, later. I used my cue-cards because I couldn't get the power point to work. I was glad I made them. I had never stayed in such a lovely bed in a hotel. It was the first time I ever used the iron in a hotel at 1 a.m. There was a lovely breakfast for those who could eat it. I was not really there though. My body was in Alexandria, but my heart and head were in Rochester. I am not really sure what I said. It's a big blur. I think I was coherent.
My father had a seizure on Monday. Mom called Monday night. They thought it was a stroke. He had been admitted. I went right away Tuesday. They did a bagillion tests. Each test lead us away from the path of stroke to something else, something darker. It is a brain tumor, the neuro-team announced seriously, and he will have surgery at St. Mary's in Rochester on Tuesday. They haven't said the word 'cancer'. They don't know until it has been biopsied. I'm saying words that I've never said before, 'tumor, biopsy, oncologist, cancer'. They taste funny, steely, awkward, on my tongue. My mother said it feels like a bad dream.
To look at Dad is to see the man I always see-funny, quick-witted, and kind. He answered a man's lawn mower questions from the hospital bed on his cell phone without blinking an eye. He was checking on details for a treadmill that he was fixing at the Family Y, wondering when the circuit board would be in. He walks unassisted and scoffed at taking the mandatory wheelchair to the lobby when he was released.
In a rare and beautiful gift, Dad's surgery couldn't be scheduled until Tuesday. They saw no reason to keep him admitted so he is at home, drug free, normal. We get four amazing days to play-Friday, Saturday, Sunday and Monday to get his ideas on paper, see his children and grandchildren, cancel plans, postpone trips. My brother drove twelve hours and is here for two of the days. He does not see this time the same way I do. I wonder why I see it as a deep blessing. I perceive the spiritual movement and sense things I can't explain. I think I grasp it, but it is out of reach too. I can't explain how precious this time is to me, but I think I'm the only one who is seeing it this way. I get the feeling of preparations being made for him, of deep comfort, of things getting aligned somehow. How lucky, I keep thinking, 'he's so lucky'. What a bizarre thing to think, I tell myself.
Dad wants to go fishing, play cards, have a cocktail (no), mow the grass, check on his tomatoes at the garden. I hope we get to do all of that and more. I yield to everything else; I am so lucky!

Saturday Funny

It's the weekend, and you're here; enjoy it. Say hello to the check out clerk, smile at the driver next to you at the red light. If you get the opportunity to work today, be thankful. If you get to do laundry and practice piano, find the "lucky me" in it. Can you find the moment of beauty?

I agree with G. This is funny. What the sign really means is free compressed air for tires. What G. thought it might mean is that there must be someplace somewhere that charges you for each breath you take. Even at a penny, I'd be broke. So, enjoy your free air today, while it's still free.

Theme Thursday - KISS

Two shoe salesmen were sent to sub-Sahara Africa in the early 1900s. One sent back a telegram that said, "Miserable-stop-no one wears shoes-stop." The other sent back a telegram that said, "Wonderful-stop-no one has shoes yet!-stop."

3% is the internet stat I found for the number of people who say they are subscribers to seasons at the orchestra, have their radios dialed in to classical music, and prefer that style to other music. 3%. You can look at this statistic in two ways like the salesmen above. Classical music is dying on the vine; its audiences are shrinking and its miserable; it's been given the KISS of death. Or there are so many to reach! I believe this music transcends time; I know that my children's children will hum many of these glorious melodies.

With the advent of shows like American Idol or bands like KISS, who were showmen first, musicians far second, I've had to do a lot of talking about performing versus entertaining. I believe they are different, and that as pianists we musically need to have both skills. In the land of classical concerts, people sit quietly, reverently, and showmanship is pushed aside to a point for the integrity of the music.

The truly wonderful musicians may not necessarily be strong performers. In the classical realm, one is expected to be musically strong, but if you perform too much, you are often a "ham" or distracting listeners from the music. I've seen conductors try to be warm and engaging, teaching somewhat from the "pulpit" of their stand in the front. This has been met with both enthusiasm and mistrust.

The larger audience is looking for a visual as well as aural experience. Look at strong pianist performances of the last few decades; they are/were wonderful entertainers. Average music lovers know Liberace, Billy Joel, or Elton John's name sooner than they could name three classical ones, (even Cliburn, Kissin, Lang Lang), maybe. Today's listeners want to be entertained, in general, as well as moved musically.

So, we stand at a potentially wonderful crossroads. Which salesman will we be?
Here's our friend Lang Lang, in a practice room at the Roy Thomson Hall in Toronto. He apparently learned this technique from Daniel Barenboim, a famous conductor and pianist. This "orange technique" helps relax the wrist and the hands too! Have you seen Lang Lang? Somehow, he's cool!

Stickers

D. told me he thought he knew what I was thinking. "Yup," he said, "you're probably thinking, 'gee, I hope D. doesn't pass any more songs today, I'm running out of stickers!'"

I told him that was one thing that a music teacher would never say. "I dare you to run me out of stickers with all your great music next week", I said.

He said he thinks he's going to try to learn the whole rest of the book this week, 30 pages! Then he can play along with the duets in the book with me, and use up all my stickers.

I'm going to go get more tonight, just in case!

Quitting

Not a very nice word, quitting. It sounds in my ears as if I am giving up. "Quitters never win and winners never quit" is an old adage that comes to mind. But what about the other situations that arise when you need to stop doing something? Does that mean you quit? You can quit smoking; that would be a "win" with reference to the above quote. You can quit making excuses; that sounds good too.

I'm visiting and revising my policies as I get ready to send them out with the fall registration form and letter. My studio lesson policy avoids the quit word and uses the terms "Lesson Termination", when it's time. Here's the exact policy wording.

LESSON TERMINATION - A one month notice is required in the event of lesson termination by the student. Lessons will be terminated by the teacher in the event of irregular attendance, repeated failure to prepare assigned material or disruptive behavior. A one month probation period with parent notification will precede lesson termination. Missing recitals or competitions without a phone call is grounds for immediate termination.

When I pull this section out, it seems cold and harsh. I don't think there's a better way to address the three issues emphasized though. I have four parents in the studio that have lost their jobs this year. They are not employed yet that I know of, so the one month termination of lessons works well if they are not going to be able to continue lessons this Fall. I do need to know pretty soon whether they are returning. I am beginning to get phone call inquiries about fall lessons, and I'm not sure how many openings I have, if any. I would like to be nosy, call and ask specifically whether they plan to take lessons this year. Some of them will postpone talking to me about it, because it's painful and because it's a tough decision. Most of all, they are hopeful that a job is just over the horizon. They won't have to quit at all if the breadwinner is gainfully employed soon.

Many of my blog friends seem to be in a period of waiting. I am feeling the same tug of indecision and stalling in my life right now. And as my mother reminded me on the phone last night, "This too shall pass". Yet, I feel that if I do stuff, I can make it pass more quickly, which isn't true and becomes frustrating.

Any wording suggestions would be greatly appreciated on the policy of how to cancel lessons. (It's a double rainbow!)

Sunday Picking

So glorious is the warmth of summer, tasted in a berry from your own backyard.

fancy fancy

My parents treated us to a meal at a casino buffet last evening. There was so much food! One magnificently prepared entree after another, the cream of chicken wild rice soup was worth the trip on its own! I marveled at the fish and paella, made in quantities that would frighten me out of the kitchen.

Around the bend of the enormous carving station, there was gourmet macaroni and cheese, and, of all things, "tater-tot hotdish"! I was very surprised at how much of both of these were being consumed, when there was chef-created food at every other turn. My parents and I make a hotdish two or three times a month. I guess not everyone turns their pound of hamburg into something mixed together with a creamed soup and can of veggies.

G. got the biggest kick out of the presentation of the food. Here, splendidly enshrined on crushed ice, with a rose made out of a strawberry is what tickled his funny bone the most. A beautifully handled ladle can present you with the finest... ketchup! Yes, the condiment has been knighted.

There's hope for me yet.