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Music in the Air

Some of my earliest childhood memories revolve around music: The church congregation singing hymns. A 33-rpm vinyl record spinning on the record player of our home. Going to “gospel singings” where we enjoyed the music of popular quartets and family singing groups of the day. Mom and Dad gathering at the piano at home in preparation of singing “specials” at church—and if not the piano then a guitar (or banjo) was used for accompaniment.

Most of my memories are great ones. One is not. Well, I can laugh about it now, but at the time I was furious! I began piano lessons at age seven. My (mean) piano teacher, Mr. White, decided I wasn’t learning to read music as quickly as he thought I should. At one lesson, he assigned me the task of writing out notes on staff paper (like, five hundred times as I recall) to ensure I learned what notes landed on those lines and spaces! (Five hundred times could be an exaggeration—but it was excruciating to a seven-year-old girl who preferred to be outside playing.) I remember leaving his music room in tears. Then I heard Mr. White and my parents discussing my assignment—and chuckling about it. Mom set the timer daily as I worked on writing out those notes. I promised myself I would never do that to a student should I ever become a piano teacher. I did, and I never forced that assignment on any student (even though I probably should have a time or two).

Music is a God-given expression of the soul. It cheers us when we’re sad. It encourages us when we’re weary. It expresses praise to our great God. I’m grateful for the valuable gift of music, and that I’ve been able to experience it’s worth all my life!

Melody Reever, Editor

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