Posted on April 3, 2012 4:53 pm under Grandma Tidbits
Moving is a great opportunity to let go of the things we no longer use. Big jobs, like our garage, may be hard to tackle, but paring the contents down to a manageable size will be hugely rewarding. It’s the little things that are really hard.
Music books are number one on my hard-to-remove list. In my youth, I was a fairly competent pianist, but competence requires practice. Daily practices gave way to occasional and then to a few sessions a year. Soon, music that had flowed effortlessly through my fingers, became stilted and riddled with wrong notes. I switched to easier compositions, but in time, they also became difficult to play. I tried to regenerate my enthusiasm with a fancy electronic keyboard and Toontrack EZdrummer software. That phase died quickly and soon my most frequent keyboard contact came from dusting. And I am not an avid housekeeper.
My music books capture memories. Hours with a devoted teacher, who stretched my half-hour sessions into full afternoons. Summer jam sessions with my best friend on clarinet and my cousin on the saxophone. Public performances and private hours lost in music’s spell.
The cleaning specialists would remind me that the memories will remain, when the music is gone. Probably true, but it might not happen with this move.