Never Give Up.
An antique Aeolian piano stood in the downstairs room of my childhood home. It was gigantic! It was old and tinny sounding. You could pop paper rolls into it, pump air through a set of foot pedals, and wala! It would play “Let a Smile Be Your Umbrella”, “Five Foot Two” and dozens of other songs.
My Pop got it at a Long Island antique auction. Knowing him he’d bought it for next to nothing. It was never meant to be played by anyone, it was just a curiosity, a party piano.
But the minute I saw it I wished I could really play it. I asked my mom to send me to lessons. But honestly, she thought piano lessons were a scam. She said she could name tons of people who had taken lessons and none of them could play a thing. In her mind music was a matter of talent, either you had it, or you didn’t.
It would be sixth grade before my parents relented and let me take piano lessons mostly because my best friend Angela had started playing. My years of begging finally paid off and I went to her teacher.
He was a very nice man, and a good musician in his own way. I remember walking to his house after school with a five-dollar bill in my pocket. (Yes, I really am that old.)
I can tell you one thing I was a VERY serious student. I wanted more than anything to be a pianist. I practiced hard and did everything my teacher told me to do. Scales, Hannon, whatever. I knew at twelve-tears-old I had started playing very late and I knew I had a lot of make-up work to do.
I practiced hard and learned music. My parents were really proud of me, and I thought I was doing well…until.
Until my teacher retired and moved to Florida the summer before I was to start tenth grade.
I was sent to the local music store. I remember the first lesson with my new teacher. I was very excited, I told her about my goal to major in music and become a composer and concert pianist.
And then I played for her.
Mazurka op. 68 no. 3
And that’s when my life changed.
“Oh my God! She exclaimed, who taught you to play?”
I was crushed (I actually have tears in my eyes remembering that moment.) She wasn’t trying to be mean. She was…I don’t know what she was feeling to tell you the truth. I think she was probably just in shock.
But I was lucky. This woman was 28 years old and probably one of the best pianists in the area.
“Well, we have a lot of work to do. You need to start from scratch.”
I did work.
I practice five hours on weekdays and eight hours on weekends. (Don’t believe me, ask my brothers. They never want to hear the sound of a piano again.)
My Pop upgraded me to a used Steinway. I can never thank him enough for that.
I managed to pass my college auditions and get into a State School with a decent music program. It was hard, hard, hard. But I graduated.
Being so far behind the other students put me under a ton of pressure. Juries were excruciating, performances were worse. My professors were harsh and demeaning. I was actually told I was never expected to make it through.
My piano professor told me that I was accepted on ‘faith’ because of my good music theory scores at my audition. She told me 90% of students accepted on faith never make it through the program.
At my graduation interview, my composition teacher told me I should give up. I would never write any descent music or amount to anything. (Nice guy!)
I paid dearly for the lack of training I had the first few years. My self-esteem was pretty much shot after I got out of college. I thought about going to culinary school and changing careers altogether.
But I love music too much.
So I went back to study learn, and become a musician that other musicians respected. Which was my new goal. I have taken numerous teacher training courses, college courses, and teaching certifications. I have studied with PhD classical pianists to further improve my own playing skills. I have concertized, with my duet partner, accompanied various choirs and soloists. Written music, directed choirs, and authored books.
I have a YouTube channel and obviously a website.
But I things would have been very different if I had given up. Or if my new teacher didn’t believe I could do it.
The moral of the story.
Never say can’t. Yes, great things can happen!
After all, I went through, (to quote Elton John) I’m still standing.
Dreams do come true.
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