"Tell me the tales that to me were so dear,
Long, long ago, long, long ago,
Sing me the songs I delighted to hear,
Long, long ago, long ago..."
I used to have piano lessons when I was a kid. I never wanted to. I'd rather play with my kid neighbors than go to Ormoc everyday for the whole summer and be scared to death with our mole-faced, petite piano teacher. I didn't really pay enough attention to her. She was always with a wooden ruler ready to strike our small, frail fingers everytime we commit a mistake. I remember one of my first practice lessons. She placed me in the room next to where she used to hold her lessons. I forgot all she taught me, So I did a nasty imitation of pianists I saw on TV. And then I saw her tiny figure in my door frame. I stopped.
And then she sat me on her piano, and taught me again. As I was playing the first piece in my Kinder Piano book, in my mind I was like, "Ah... In-ani ra diay."
That's what I got from not paying attention. And a disturbing memory of the haunted piano house in Lopez Jaena St.
From then on, I tried to pay attention to her and practiced my lessons before and after my sessions with her. And then my parents decided to continue my lessons after summer is over. I was in Prep that time. Maybe she's one of the factors that caused my inferiority complex. ha-ha
http://www.contemplator.com/england/longago.html
"And suddenly there appeared before me
The only one my arms could ever hold
I heard someone whisper, “please, adore me”
And when i looked my moon had turned to gold."
I learned this piano piece from a public school teacher (who used to be a "maharlika") . She taught me this one summer day when I was Korkie's "yaya". She'd just given birth that time. I remember her blouse being wet from all the milk from her breasts. It was kinda gross. But she had an extensive collection of piano books. We also used the same books we had in OC. But the pieces she taught me are far more interesting and funner to play. My mother already gave me a piano for my 10th birthday. And that's what we used.
After all the piano lessons I had in my life, I still couldn't bring myself to completely love it. It was more like school for me than something I am passionate about. It was just something I do during summer and lunch breaks. Something that made me stand out from the rest of the children in our barangay and in my class (some of my classmates started later in grade school). But I never loved it. Or appreciated it enough. Months would passed me without touching my piano. It was one of those things in my life that I took for granted. There was a time in my life when I just wanted to get rid of it. I asked my friends if they knew someone who wanted to buy a piano. But then I realized it signifies someone important to me. And It dawned on me, I don't want it gone. It was one of the legacies that Tatay Omy left us. Precious memories that I couldn't bring myself to forget. Memories of cuddly stuff toys. Of chocolates. Of bonding moments. Of teasing. Of dancing "Pearly shells" and boogie. Of wealth and abundance. Of a great life that has passed.
I've never thought that I'd lose what I used to have. Things were much simpler when we were young. When the most difficult decision I had to make was choosing which two toys I wanted for my birthday. When all I did was go to school and play and swim. When I wasn't aware of the world's greatest problems of poverty and hunger.
