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he swears they travel for a hundred miles or more
Prompt 7: playing
The book was likely given to me by one of my grade school piano teachers, though none of its pieces were formally assigned. There are a handful of notes on alternate titles and verses -- my hymn-nerd tendencies apparently go WAY back.
What I mainly remember is playing and singing from it year round -- then, as now, for solace and discovery (how will this sound an octave up? if I play it cross-handed? ...).
The piano in the photo was a gift from the calligraphy teacher mentioned in the previous entry. Years later, I learned it had been a gift to her from her father.
That moment in By the Shores of Silver Lake when Laura realizes she must be a grown up because [...] is gone? My mind flies to those pages when I think about when, in the process of getting my mother's house ready to sell, I realized that I would not be moving my childhood piano from Kentucky to Tennessee, for a host of practical reasons. It is not a decision I lose sleep over, but it's embedded in my history as This Is What Grown-Ups Do moment: I like being an adult most of the time, but it does at times require making choices I didn't foresee -- choices that carry the gut-punch of saying farewell to things I'd thought I'd always want in my life.
[Prompted by Upper Rubber Boot's #100untimedbooks photo challenge // http://upperrubberboot.tumblr.com/post/123904555213; subject line from Ahrens and Flaherty's "Streets of Dublin"]
The book was likely given to me by one of my grade school piano teachers, though none of its pieces were formally assigned. There are a handful of notes on alternate titles and verses -- my hymn-nerd tendencies apparently go WAY back.
What I mainly remember is playing and singing from it year round -- then, as now, for solace and discovery (how will this sound an octave up? if I play it cross-handed? ...).
The piano in the photo was a gift from the calligraphy teacher mentioned in the previous entry. Years later, I learned it had been a gift to her from her father.
That moment in By the Shores of Silver Lake when Laura realizes she must be a grown up because [...] is gone? My mind flies to those pages when I think about when, in the process of getting my mother's house ready to sell, I realized that I would not be moving my childhood piano from Kentucky to Tennessee, for a host of practical reasons. It is not a decision I lose sleep over, but it's embedded in my history as This Is What Grown-Ups Do moment: I like being an adult most of the time, but it does at times require making choices I didn't foresee -- choices that carry the gut-punch of saying farewell to things I'd thought I'd always want in my life.
[Prompted by Upper Rubber Boot's #100untimedbooks photo challenge // http://upperrubberboot.tumblr.com/post/123904555213; subject line from Ahrens and Flaherty's "Streets of Dublin"]