I started taking early piano lessons around age 3. My parents, my mom in particular, were all about enrichment and feeding my little brain.

Those early classes were spent learning about music theory, rhythm and just being exposed to early concepts.

By age four though, I could read music on a basic level. This was due to Mnemonic tricks we, (and probably every other English-speaking music student), were taught to remember the lines and spaces on a music staff.

I stopped taking piano lessons around the same time my parents got divorced, I’m guessing transportation became an issue, and I really hated practicing, but I retained enough to help me a couple years later when I picked up a coronet for the first time.

Eventually, I lost the ability to read the bass clef with any dexterity because I didn’t need it for coronet and later, trumpet.

I still love music to this day. I would love to be able to play my trumpet again somewhere. Now that I’ve quit smoking I have the air for it, I just have to build my embouchure to something that doesn’t sound like a duck. I don’t know. I should have gone for trumpet lessons instead of a drawing class…

Regardless, music was one of my very first loves. It was the second language I learned to speak and I’m still passionate about it now.

Image from Pixabay


6 thoughts on “Lessons

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