(Based on “Excerpt from On Writing” by Stephen King, which recounts the story of King’s son who, at seven years of age, fell in love with the sound of the saxophone. They bought him one and he took lessons, but it turned out he had no passion for playing the instrument himself.)
My father is a very skilled musician, particularly with the piano. We had one in the basement and he would just sit down and play. It seemed the pieces just flowed out of him. I took lessons from Mrs. Powell that included learning how to read music, play the scales, and even music theory. I liked earning the little stickers she gave when I mastered a new piece. But, like Stephen King’s son, creating music on the piano keyboard did not inspire passion in me. I practiced halfheartedly and not nearly enough. I procrastinated on my theory homework. I was never inspired to improvise or compose my own work. My skill level plateaued and eventually my piano lessons ceased.
Looking back, I wish I had stuck with it, been more dedicated to practicing and was able to, like my father, just sit down and play. I definitely have a deep passion for music. I appreciate many genres from classical to heavy metal to country. My brain stores melodies and lyrics together which enables in my sometimes unbelievable ability to belt out many of the songs I’ve heard over the last forty years. So much of my brain is dedicated to the storage and recall of music! I often wonder if I’m missing out on some opportunity to leverage this ability beyond singalongs in the car.
My love of music saw me join the church choir, which required me to attend Thursday evening practice and Sunday morning service each week. I didn’t balk at that commitment as a teenager because the combination of the organ and choir was truly heavenly for me. Music truly fills my heart and makes it soar. I appreciate those for whom making it is a passion so I can lose myself in their mastery of the craft.