When I was little I had a Magnus Grand organ. The musical system for it was simple so I played easily without being taught. Years later, when I was an adult, I found the lyrics to "Listen to the Mockingbird" - which had been my favorite. Played according to my music it was an up-tempo little song. Reading the lyrics made me wonder why!!! Was I, as a child, misreading the music? Or was the composer a totally glitched!?
vaguely remember my mother having a piano when we lived in the house on Fifth Street, in Shelbyville, IL. I could be wrong? But even though I wasn't allowed to touch it (if it existed *twitch*) I loved the sound.
Around the same time as the organ my Grandmother found me an old zither during one of her numerous rummage sale sprees. The thing was in sad shape, out of tune and wires were missing. But it fascinated me. I'd love to get my hands on one in better condition!
Enter hell. I mean, school. As part of early education we were given extensive lessons in musical notes and rhythm and various simplistic instruments. I'm forever grateful for that, because it made my later musical education much smoother - when others were struggling to learn basic musical theory I was already "musically literate".
Musical Mistake: Band. It was expected of me, I suppose. I loved music and wasn't too shabby. So I signed up for band. Marching
band - there was no orchestra in our small town school. I wanted to play the flute. My Mom told me to take the Alto Sax. I did as I was told. Ye fornicating gods, I hated that thing! Mind you, I love the sound. But this was back before we understood anything about my cerebral palsy, or even knew that this is what I have. The thing was heavy and awkward, and I had to march with it. Just walking a parade route was difficult and painful. By the time a parade was over I'd be in tears!
I finally convinced my mother to let me out of band. Shortly afterward we moved to a town the school of which had a choir. I joined that and did well. I love to sing and have a broad range. Plus the only thing I had to carry was my music!
I missed instruments, though, so I got back into band of my own accord. Another mistake! The band director knew
by then that I was disabled. And the *bleep* had me march with the xylophone!
A change of venue, a new and much more sympathetic band and choir director. She was from England, and I adored her! I didn't take band, but there was a more general music class that the "problem" kids were put in. I took that. She'd work with me first, and taught me to play the piano. When I was done she'd permit me to spend the rest of the class period in the library so the other kids wouldn't be able to pick on me - which they certainly did! Bless her, where ever she is!
In college I discovered Celtic music and fell instantly in love. Shortly after we were married, my husband bought me my first tin whistle and an instructional tape. I collect tinwhistles and pennywhistles now, and can play all but the quickest songs. It's been awhile since I've picked it up, though.
A few years ago we bought something we've both been dreaming of - a Celtic harp. I named her Bain Druin, which means "Lady Wren". I can't play it very well. I know the notes and strings and theories but my left hand won't obey. My husband plays from time to time.