I used to sit in front of this family piano and show off my unknown talent, let's call it one of my seldom talked about secrets, of exclusively using my right hand and playing a few songs. My repretoire included Swans on the Lake, Joy to the World, those 18 key notes in Chariots of Fire and the oddly out of place, Motley Crue's Home Sweet Home.
I was never going to grow up and become some classically trained pianist. Anything music related or sophisticated wouldn't fit into these ordinary genes but that piano, there's just something about sitting in front of a piano all alone and tapping away at those ivory keys.
Mom did one thing right when I was kid: she made me take piano lessons. The karate lessons, which were intended to help me defend myself against this bully who had Down Syndrome when I was eight, well, those lasted about two weeks. My trumpet lessons in 5th grade lasted a month because I could never get that damn trumpet to make a noise; no matter how hard I blew into it. But my piano lessons; those lasted almost a year. I never could get the left hand down or play with both hands but damn it, I was the best 12 year old exclusively using his right hand pianist in all of a 4 block radius of my home.
During a significant and life changing period of my life, I lived with 3 friends and a revolving door of other friends in a large upper middle class neighborhood. We had horses, a basketball court, a hot tub, a ping pong table, scorpions infested in that palace and of course, the piano.
The parents of my friends were off in some European country spreading the word of God while we lived in that house; drinking every night, playing naked ping pong and trying to not get stung by scorpions. It was the best of times.
Late into the night after everyone passed out, I would find myself sitting at the piano half inebriated. I would just start playing. There's something to be said about music or art when it comes from your own hands. I can't even explain how liberating and peaceful it can be.
Often times, as I played from my short list of learned songs, I thought about you and others.
I'm not really a corny person; at least, I don't believe I am. Except when it comes to really bad TV shows from my childhood. Or when I am talking to my girlfriend and trying to convince her that I am the Fonz while she corrects me and says I am more like Ritchie. Or when I am alone in my thoughts trying to think of some clever way to rhyme while expressing my emotions at a given moment. Really, I am only corny when it comes to her or others who came into my life along the way before her. And that includes you. Especially, you.
I haven't sat down at a piano since I left that old house with those old friends which was immediately after their parents two year mission trip had ended. Last song, I ever played was Motley Crue's Home Sweet Home. Ironic, I suppose, considering I have never felt like I had a home... except when I lived with them.
The friend who taught me that late 1980's song on the piano had a lot of secrets. One of which was he could play the piano, too. Maybe that little unknown fact was one of many things that created this remarkable bond between us. Maybe, it's one of many reasons, his early exit from life is simply noted as the worst of times.
Sometimes, I would play that piano when no one was looking and wonder if you could play, too. I don't recall ever asking what you liked to do or what your hobbies and passions were. I was probably so nervous around you, I never shut up and let you talk. I don't remember anything, really. Except your big bangs. Denim skirts.
And how peaceful I felt in your presence.
Just like a piano.
I may never regain that familiar feeling of being home but who says home has to be a physical thing? This moment right now, talking about me, remembering you, remembering them, recalling specific details of an extraordinary time is home sweet home to me. .
I've got so many stories I will never get to share with her and I am sure she's got plenty more than me.
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<3 Love this.
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