My Mother Made Me

Growing up my mother made me learn to play the piano. I didn't try anything as drastic as my brother Nate to get out of going to lessons but there was certainly some murming on my part. And that heartless woman made me do it. Week after week, year after year. One time she was so tired of me complaining she made me write on a piece of paper how much I hated piano and then we folded it, sealed it, and wrote on the outside "open in 2000" (because that was forever away). I found that paper recently, that proof of my mother's control and mistreatment of her children that would stand as a testimony against her when I was a traumatized adult. She made me, it was awful, and I am forever in her debt!

Having a piano in my home has been heaven! Going back and playing songs I was forced to learn and memorize brings so much joy now. Joy that I can play them easily, joy that my fingers can just follow along, joy to have beautiful music fill my home and produce it whenever I feel the need to let any emotion or thought sort itself out through playing. I love this instrument, I love music, and I love that woman that forced this gift upon me!

I have no pleasure in any man who despises music.

It is no invention of ours: it is a gift of God. I place it next to theology.

Satan hates music: he knows how it drives the evil spirit out of us.

Martin Luther