![]() 4 of us played various instruments, and our friends joked that we should start a family band.īut as Kenny wanted to play more, I noticed myself pulling back. Once we got married and our little children turned out to be little natural musicians themselves. When I met Kenny, he was so happy to be jamming with a girlfriend who knew how to play. I quickly noticed how the rest of the band members seemed to really groove to the music, while I felt so stiff until I had a few drinks in me. I joined a band when I moved back to New York City. As a college student in Boston, I slipped into the music department, where I'd sneak into vacant practice rooms to play before someone showed up at the door, surprised to see an unexpected face there, “Oh did you reserve this room?”Įach stolen moment at the keys felt comforting in my own private space. Once I had no access to piano, I found myself intermittently drawn back to the piano. It transformed from 'mine' to 'hers.' I promptly stopped going to church and playing the piano when I left for college. The piano, initially a genuine joy for me, became an instrument to meet my mother's expectations and desires. At the same time, the dread set in and I wasn’t sure why.īut soon, the joy of music became a source of dread. The applause and admiration from the church congregation meant so much to her, and she couldn’t get enough of it. A black shiny upright piano from Young Chang, the Korean equivalent of Steinway, had always been in the background of old family photos, years before I arrived on the scene. Mom had a vision that her future child would be a pianist ever since she realized her artistic talent didn’t include music. My mother, overjoyed with my musical 'superpower,' began to volunteer me for various performances-church congregations, wedding services, and social gatherings. The ability to play what I saw on the sheet music and produce beautiful sound felt like a superpower. I would come home with my latchkey, look at the note Mom wrote before she left for work, finish my homework, have some snacks, and then "compose." After practicing, I would put a pencil on my right ear and write down the notes from my head and play along, feeling quite pleased with myself. One afternoon when I was about 9, I read the biography of Mozart from the school library and how he started composing at a young age - a musical genius! That year, I was obsessed with composing myself. On that piano, I learned to play “Mary Had a Little Lamb,” then moved onto Mozart, Chopin, and Beethoven, among other classic composers. My little hands stretched on the black and white keys of the shiny black upright piano. I started playing piano when I was a small child. ![]() I could tell from the way he played and I was delighted. I read that Bill Evans was classically trained before becoming a jazz musician. While many interpretations exist, Bill Evans's rendition takes the piece to a level of beauty that is genuinely striking. Published in 1949, the composition is the work of Victor Young. It's a popular tune that has also achieved the status of a jazz standard. If you search for Bill Evans on Spotify, the first song that greets you is "Foolish Heart." It takes just one listen to understand why it holds this privileged position. The bar was really low I just had to play the song at least once every day. ![]() So, I gave myself a little 30-day challenge to see if I could play the song of my choice. I've done a lot of things to build my little universe, but I was painfully aware of how far I had removed myself from the creative daily life I thought I'd have. I've been asking this question daily since I turned 45: Am I the person today I was born to be? ![]() Maybe it was a midlife thing or simply life aligned for me to pause and reflect. I barely remembered how it felt and it made me sad since it was something I did for all my life. Why? I wanted to taste the joy of playing music again. This is impossible."Ībout 3 months ago, I decided to pick one jazz song and learn to play it on the piano. The 1st day, I quietly noted in my journal: "Yuck. How did I sound today? As expected, Day 90 sounds much better than Day 1. This morning, I sat on the piano bench to play "Foolish Heart" from a transcription in the Bill Evans jazz piano book.
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