Gather around the piano
Gather around the piano
Some of the fondest memories I have of my grandmother were
those times she would gather us kids in the music room in their farmhouse in
Vermont and play the piano as we would sing along with her as she played old
familiar tunes.
The piano was a baby grand that use to belong to a relative
who was a conductor, composer, and music teacher. William LeRoy Raisch lived near the shore in
New Jersey. The piano had a companion
who graced the music room with a permanent scowl, a bust of Beethoven. Somehow, I ended up with Beethoven while my
brother Bill ended up with the piano.
Maybe it was poetic justice that he got the piano, as it was his kids (4
boys) who pounded the keys so hard that most of the rare ivory keys were
permanently damaged. LeRoy also taught
music for several years and his students included the offspring of FDR. My brother also has a letter from the former
president to LeRoy apologizing for the late payment for lessons. The president, in classic marital logic,
blamed his wife for failing to send the payment timely and insisted it would
never happen again.
My grandmother couldn’t play by ear instead she used old
music books with tunes by Steven Foster and other composers to play the
piano. She was a small woman, maybe five
feet tall at the time, and peered out through thick glass perched crookedly
on her nose to read the notes. It seemed
that instead of looking down at the pages, she had to look up. Her fingers were gnarly and bent, scared from
a lifetime of preparing meals, housework, and tending to her flower garden,
something she did almost every day weather permitting.
These sessions took place a couple of times a month, usually
in the afternoons when my grandmother had a few moments between cleaning up
after lunch and before the start of preparations for the evening meal. Most days we were either at the lake
swimming or outside doing make-do chores to keep busy. Occasionally we would be inside at our wit's
end desperate for something to do.
Usually, we would beg her to play a few songs, which she readily agreed
to. I got to sit next to her as I was the
smallest, and there was room for me on the bench. I mostly remember sitting to her right while
she played.
Mostly I did not like to sing in groups. Often on our trips to Vermont, mom and dad
would start to sign while my brother and sister joined in. I, on the other hand, was self-conscience and
would hold back afraid of making mistakes or singing off-key. In the winter they would sing Christmas
carols, other times show tunes they knew from before they were married. One time they sang every song they knew that
had the word rose in it.
But for some reason, I didn’t enjoy these sessions as much
as I liked sitting next to my grandmother while she picked out melodies on the
piano and we joined in as best we could with our warbling voices. It was a fun
and happy time. I don’t have the songbook
my grandmother used, I don’t know where it is.
The book contained maybe 200 to 250 songs written for the piano with the
words to the songs. I just remember it
was a thick large heavy book. I do
remember there were songs by Stephen Foster, but not much else about the
book.
I was the last child, the youngest in the family. I never took piano lessons, or otherwise
learned how to read music, except for that brief time I played the trumpet in
elementary school. My parents didn’t
insist that I take lessons. I also never
went to dance school like my brother and sister. They went once a week all dressed up in suits
and dresses. I realize now that the
money just wasn’t there for me to take these lessons. By the time I got to high school both my
brother and sister were in college and that put a strain on family
finances. Before that I’m sure they were
saving up for their college education, same as when I went, they paid for my
tuition and room and board for 4 years.
I did manage to work for my travel and spending money, but this was the time before financial aid, and it was pay-as-you-go.
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