Taking up Space

When I was five I loved to sit at the piano and imagine a cat chasing a mouse across the keys, tinkling the notes. My mother would be sitting at her desk across the huge living room, paying bills. After a few sessions of this she insisted that I must have piano lessons rather than play around.

My lessons involved a lot of homework on paper. When I played a tune I tried to play it as fast as I could, Minuet in G, Solfeggietto. I loved them but I wanted to play Rain Drops keep Falling on My Head by Burt Bachrach, and the Little Drummer Boy, and so I did!

My drama teacher wanted me to sing, to "belt it out."
I never sang a note in my life Not even "happy birthday."

I still fear furniture and bugs will fly out of my mouth if I try to sing.

I worship opera singers and wish I was one, and I adore dancers and actors too, but I need to be alone to feel safe. Alone with my pets.

"Ms Marcus said she had a piano student that practices five hours a day", my mother repeated for me.
Whenever I was at the piano she's day "I don't want to hear you practicing" closing the two sets of glass-paned double doors leading to the living room.

My teacher would show up and our great big Scottish deer-hound Teddi would stick his nose up the front of her skirt. My mother would ask her, Are you menstruating?

When I lived on my own I moved in with a couple of musicians who had been living next door. They let me play everything they had, bagpipes, bass clarinet, tin whistles, harmonicas, Irish and African drums. I went on tour with them bringing my dog.

I got an alto saxophone. When lived alone I stuffed it full of rolled up socks while I honked on it, fearing I would be bothering the neighbors. I didn't want to take lessons I just wanted to blow my brains out. But I did take a few lessons and my teacher Gregg was great. He said it's time for you to get a new mouthpiece and jam with a live band. I asked for a new mouthpiece for Christmas."That's not a gift" my mother shouted at me. On my birthday she gave me an extra large navy blue wool sweater When I opened the box she grabbed it holding it against her torso. "Don't you just love men's sweaters".