When Autumn Leaves…

29 Oct 2014 8 Comments

by themuseinme in Uncategorized Tags: , , ,

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“I would rather sit on a pumpkin, and have it all to myself, than be crowded on a velvet cushion.”

― Henry David Thoreau

 

When Autumn leaves begin to fall… I remember

when I was a little girl.  I loved to sit at the piano and figure out how to play songs I had heard on television or the radio.  Those who were schooled in music admonished my parents,  “Hurry and get Donna in piano lessons before she picks up bad habits and has to unlearn what she’s taught herself.  Playing by ear is good and show’s she has talent but she needs to learn how to play correctly!”

My parents heeded their advice and by the fourth grade, at a great expense and financial sacrifice to them, I began piano lessons with Mrs. Susie Pender.  I’ll never forget my first lesson.  I stood out on the sidewalk in front of her house; my heart about to beat out of my chest and my knobby knees shaking mightily.  I felt the hope of my parent’s expectations sitting heavily on my shoulders and I could still hear my father’s voice in my head, “Donna, you are going to have to take music for five years.  We have to give your talent time to grow and you’ll need lots of time to practice.  There will be NO giving up!  You can quit lessons the day after you’ve taken them for five years, but you HAVE to give it at least that long!  You owe it to yourself and your talent!  AND, I know you will have made it when you can ‘tickle the ivories’ by playing every note in ‘Autumn Leaves.’ Now that’s ….that’s a beautiful song and you’re going to learn to play it. I look forward to the day!”

I stared up at the steps, which in this small girl’s eyes looked monumental and began my ascent.  Walking across the mile-wide porch, I gathered every ounce of boldness I had and knocked on the door. I had conjured up what I thought Mrs. Pender would look like.  She would be small, petite and blonde, like Barbara Eden in “I Dream of Jeannie.”  She would have a beautiful smile and with the blink of her eyes and a nod of the head she would perform her genie magic and I would be able to play “Autumn Leaves” without having to practice a note.

Mrs. Pender opened her front door.  I looked up at her and my hopes vanished.  She was an ancient, matronly woman dressed in an old fashioned black dress with black, low heeled lace up shoes.  Her silvery-white hair was swept up into a bun on top of her head.  She didn’t look like a ‘Susie.’  Those who were named Susie were young and fun.   “Hello,” her voice crackled.  “You must be Donna!  Come in.”

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I took a picture of Mrs. Pender’s house during the summer.  Now it looks totally adorable and inviting, painted a lovely pink, and I’m sure the current owners are wonderful people!    But forty-seven years ago (Did I just write that?  That’s how old people talk!) as I stood before it,  I was a very frightened little girl!  

 

I didn’t want to go in.  What if she really was the “mean, evil” lady in the neighborhood that invited poor little children like me into her parlor, carved out their hearts with a pen knife and buried what was left of their little bodies in the back yard, sometime after the sun went down?  I saw the whole scenario play out in my head but I swallowed my fears and timidly walked in behind her.

We walked through her darkened, cool parlor on a narrow, clear, plastic floor runner.  I guessed she didn’t want kids like me messing up her clean floor and rugs. Glancing around the room, I noticed it was furnished in old, Victorian furniture, the upholstery, faded a bit but still in good shape.  Even I could tell she rarely used the room and sat on her furniture. I guessed this would not be the room I took the lessons in.  I followed her deeper into the house.

My nerves were sweating as she led me into the next room.  Hoping to see a piano,  I was relieved when I saw its deep mahogany shine gleaming at me from under the piano lamp.  I relaxed a little when I realized if Mrs. Pender did chop me up into little pieces it would be after the piano lesson.

I took lessons for five entire years from Mrs. Susie Pender,  just like my Daddy said I would.  During that time, I was always a bit intimidated by her old house and her no-nonsense appearance and approach to music.  I did learn to play a version of “Autumn Leaves” but always stumbled through the version my Dad wanted me to learn.

I know that I didn’t practice nearly enough as a piano student and that I didn’t have that “drive” that separates the good students from the best ones.  I quit the lessons in the ninth grade after completing my five years.

Looking back, I wish I had been more musically ambitious.  Instead, I learned enough to read music, suffer through advanced piano and pick up the guitar and learn enough to get me through the very basics of that instrument. Dad, why didn’t you MAKE me practice more?  I suppose you could have beat me with a stick and threatened to cut off my fingers if I didn’t practice more,  but that would have made you the mean, evil man on the street in our neighborhood.  Plus, I couldn’t have played the piano without my fingers.   I suppose I was just too lazy to take advantage of my wonderful opportunity to be a concert pianist.

Dad, I’m sorry about “Autumn Leaves.”   Every Fall since the fourth grade,  when I see leaves swirling around, I think of you and your hopes for me. Sorry I didn’t deliver.   Yep, I still feel a little  guilty about that one!


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       Dad, I figured out a way “Autumn Leaves” could still tickle the ivories!


Here’s your song!  I hope you enjoy it as much as my Dad does.   It’s still one of his favorites! Just close your eyes and pretend it’s me playing!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CGwFjbyAFm4

 

Jack O’ the Lanterns and Master of All

11 Oct 2013 8 Comments

by themuseinme in Uncategorized Tags: , , ,

With all due respect to calendars and official, scientific times and seasons, Fall finally made his appearance into Coastal Carolina during the middle of the night.  I was sleeping with the carefree slumber of a child on a summer’s night.  My light-weight cotton pee jays were bunched up around my knees,  the covers were kicked off to the foot of the bed and the fan hummed quietly in the corner of the room to keep out night noises.  It was sometime in the wee morning hours that I awakened to a chill in the room.  I  got up and stumbled over to my dresser in the dark, feeling around in my drawer for my plush sleeping socks that I hadn’t worn since a cold snap late last spring.  I put them on while thinking about what it would be like to be blind and do everything in the dark.  Shutting down my brain before I began thinking too much,  I got back into bed and  pulled the covers up to my chin.  Warmth took over and I fell back into sleep’s cozy cocoon.   Fall smiled,  looked around the room and scratched his head.  He was glad to be back.dockside 3

I knew as soon as I walked out onto the back porch that morning that he was finally here.  I opened up my arms, spreading them out in glee to embrace my long lost friend.  I inhaled his deep, earthy smell of leafy decadence and felt his chilly hands upon my shoulders and his cool breath upon my face.  I smiled at him and asked, “What took you so long?”

He lazily shrugged his shoulders and said, “You know how greedy Summer can be.  He’s been stealing some of my days.  I had to come all the way to the very edge of the continent to make him go away.”  I crossed my arms and challenged him with a playful rebuke.  “Oh, stop your whining.  If there’s any stealing to be done, then you’re the one to do it, with that temper of yours.  It would frighten anybody!”   And with a  thunderous laugh, he just threw back his redish-orange pumpkin-glazed hair and snapped his fingers.   Just like that he turned up the rain and the wind, swirling brown and golden leaves into the air, onto my hair and down by my feet.  “Oops,” he said.  “I didn’t mean to make a mess.”   “Same old lame joke,”  I laughed back at him,  shaking my head to free it of the wet leaves.  “But, wow!  It’s great to see you.  I couldn’t wait for you to get here!” pumpkins

That morning he did everything he could do to get my attention.  He kicked up the winds and drove them in from the north, sending a chilly rain inland from the ocean and sending the wet droplets rat-a-tat-tatting on my back windows that looked out over the waterway.   He knew that I would stand there much of the day, watching him show off his natural abilities, taking advantage of my “crush” on him.  He had no shame!

Donning his artist’s beret and whipping out his Autumnal palette, Fall set up his canvas on the end of the dock and began to paint me an impressionist’s view of the the rain’s weight dropping like small pebbles into the water already swollen by the high tides. Wanting to join my friend, I brought out a big black and red striped golf umbrella to keep me dry as I watched him work his magic.  Yellow- green marsh grass peaked out of the grey-white waters, looking like the Atlantic’s bearded stubble.  Sky and water mirrored the same colors and I wondered how it was that gray could be on Autumn’s color palette. How many shades of gray were there?  Fifty?

I was his lone model standing on the pier in the pouring rain, my face lifted up towards a gaggle of geese honking loudly over the rain’s noisy din and flying low over the steely waters.  The wet sky was falling into the water.  It was time to come in.  I took one last look and put the painting on the back wall of my mind.  One never knew what the conditions would be when Fall showed up but whatever they were,  they were always spectacular.

I couldn’t believe the perfection in this wonderful gloomy day!  My favorite season was back in town!   It was time to put on the classical music.  Get out the cook books.  Drink hot cider and peppery, red wines.  Eat hearty, healthy soups and breads.  Invite friends over.  Sit around the table and talk about things that really mattered.  Religion AND  politics.  Solve community problems and plan family holidays.  Find my old red sweater and get a cord of firewood.  Fall was here!

Always using great flourish, He was not to be out done by winter’s stark beauty and muffled quietness,  the high intensity of Spring and its buzzing, mating madness and Summer’s maturing, adolescent gleefulness. He was Jack o’ the lanterns and master of all!

I met with him on the porch that night, after dinner, when the mood was reflective.   He had brought in a deep chill and we had made a fire in our chiminea.  I pulled on my red sweater and warmed my hands with a hot cup of chai tea.  He was settling into my bones and I already dreaded the day he would be gone and it would be too cold to sit in this happy place and revel in his glory.  “Please don’t go.”  I begged.  “You never seem to stay long enough.  It seems you’re always in a hurry.  Always going…”  I trailed off.

All of a sudden, I had a horrible thought.  What about the Harvest Moon?  What if he didn’t show up for my favorite full moon of the year?  What if he didn’t work his magic on that particularly wonderful night of the year when I could dance with Bill and feel  young again and…hopeful that good things would come full circle…and that the golden moon would make golden paths to follow… Oh no!  I was moonstruck and it wasn’t even the Harvest Moon yet…

“You WILL be here for that, won’t you?”  I waited for him to answer me.  I knew I was being silly but Fall did these kind of things to me.  Made me all ‘melty’ inside.

“Of course I’ll be there,” he said in his smoky-firey voice.  “It’s MY moon.  I wouldn’t miss it for anything. Just make sure you’ll save me a dance.”

I sat back, relieved.  Fall was going to stick around a little while!

Here’s a song for you…try to pick out some notable cameos!