I see the beautiful old house, my grandfather’s house, built at the beginning of the 20th century. Many times in my childhood, I remember walking across the garden and, as I get closer, the sound of music grows louder, and clearer – it’s Grandpa’s piano.
From the time I was a little girl, and began to feel music, I fell madly in love with grandpa’s piano. I wanted to play the piano more than anything in the world, and I wanted to be good at it. I wanted to be as good as my grandfather. He started playing the piano when he was eight years old; he played in band later, and all his adult life he made extra money in the evenings by playing at balls and dances. As a child, every time I saw that piano in my grandparents’ house, it was a torture for me, because I was not yet old enough to sit down and play as I wished. I could only play with granddaddy’s permission, and only with him sitting by my side — and that was not so much fun.
But the piano, everyone in my family has learned to play, because it has always been like the crown jewel of our family, and that piano meant so much to my grandpa. He got it when he started to play, as a child, and had it ever since. So letting me even touch it, at the age of four or five, was probably difficult for him. However, it still was my dream, and seeing my sister and my cousin going to the lessons made me so jealous! My time was yet to come, but the waiting was horrible.
Finally, when I started the first grade everyone decided that I was old enough to learn, I experienced the magic moment. The piano, a dream I was growing up for, something I had in the reach of my hand but could not touch all these years. I finally got to sit and play whenever I wanted without anybody’s permission. When I remember my first lesson, I still have the shivers.
For the first time, I opened the lid of the piano, where the keyboard was, and to my surprise there was one more cover on the keys. It was a long piece of red satin fabric on which a musical staff was drawn with the notes of the Czech National Hymn. It was all hand sewn, and I think my grandfather’s grandmother made it for him. Just taking it into my hands and putting it away for the lesson was special. Then Grandpa sat next to me and showed me the correct fingering. Just knowing how to place my fingers on the keys made me feel like a real musician. And when I played an actual note for the first time, grandpa saw a huge smile on my face and felt my wave of happiness.
I practiced and learned to read the notes, so that playing piano became even more interesting. I got better and better every lesson, even though sometimes grandpa gave me a very hard time. I loved the moment when I put my hands on those black and white keys and suddenly the music started coming out. But my most favorite moments were when grandpa started to play. I would watch him and listen to him for hours. These are some of the best memories of my childhood. Music, and the feel for it, is what my family has passed on to me, and I am so proud that my grandfather could pass his abilities on to me. I had the best teacher I could ever wish for. Thank you, Grandpa!
