We all have times when we forget things. To do lists, a task on our agenda, forgetting to call a friend, to write a message, to reply a text. There's been times its just so easy to let something slip by and it may not even be significant. It could be due to a busy schedule, a spur of the moment incident that went in one ear and out the other, or we may have been ignorant and rather careless about what we were suppose to remember.
Personally I dislike forgetting things. I use my agenda wisely, write to do notes, scribble ideas that come to mind and even resort to the palm of my hand if there's nothing else. I prefer being organized and accomplishing what I need to be done before it needs to be done. Yet, I am writing about a forgotten case of music.
Yes, music.
I took piano lessons since I was in grade three. I had always wanted to take lessons, maybe because my friends did and so I told my mom. She found me a teacher from church and my knowledge of the piano took course from there on. I remember the cost of these lessons, each year the cost would go up, and as I went into higher levels, I had to take more lessons and theory, as well as pay for expensive piano exams and books. I enjoyed playing, but I disliked practicing. Sometimes I wouldn't practice until the day of my lesson. My teacher could always tell how if I practiced or not, I always wondered how she knew, but it showed. Practice makes Perfect right?
I remember when I started ear training I was so frustrated. I just couldn't get it. There must be a problem with my hearing I thought because how could I not be able to even GUESS a note? Thinking back to this, it makes me annoyed at myself. I didn't think I was musically challenged at all. One day I decided that I would quit piano lessons after finishing grade eight. That day came and gone in the summer of 2008. Its been close to three years now. During this time, when I bumped into my piano teachers (I had two, one moved away and I switched to her relative), I felt somewhat ashamed. I had told my teacher I wanted to take a break when I quitted (she had really wanted me to pursue to grade ten, even if it was just for fun). I felt ashamed not because I didn't take lessons with her no more, but because when she would ask about how my practice was going I found myself changing the topic or giving an indirect (and not very honest) answer, reason being, I stopped playing. I haven't touched the piano on a regular basis since that summer.
One day, which so happens to be about two weeks before the Aruba mission trip, I found myself having a yearning to play. An auntie told me once you can never forget a learned skill, its like driving, yes you may need to brush up on it having not played in a long time, but you would never forget the skill. So I opened a rather easy piano book and played some popular children songs, it took some time for both my hands to match up on the notes and timing, and my mind had to adjust to the delay from reading the notes and sending the message to my fingers, but I played and ended up playing for an hour, clumsily. They were really basic songs though.
Speaking of the mission trip, when my friend couldn't go because of her grandfather's death, the group didn't know what to do, my other friend would be the only other person for the 'praise team' and they had lost a piano player for the trip. When I stepped up to the plate, they knew I could play and they were satisfied with me as a replacement. Yet, I didn't know if I could actually play for an audience-all the fear and nervousness from previous piano exams built up and took its toll on me. AND, playing praise songs and hymns, no way! When I got to Aruba and looked through the music sheets, I felt so lost. I couldn't remember how to do chords, my fingers were all over the placed and my mind was struggling to read the sharps, flats or recall F-A-C-E and 'All Cows Eat Grass?' I was confused and I was frustrated with myself for not understanding this language I had knew so well at one point. It was like all that money, effort, and practicing for eight years had gone to waste.
In the end, even though we didn't have a legit pianist, we realized we didn't even need one, the kids were satisfied with a Hillsong DVD and watching us make a fool of ourselves by dancing (though many of them loved it and joined in!). During sharing last week, one of the members of the mission trip had mention how despite each of us on the team not being the most talented in the field of music, we all pulled through and enjoyed praise and worship the most each day of camp. God absolutely love weaknesses and this week I've been reminded so much of Aruba and our work there. I miss it.
As for my early case of Alzheimer's, it'll take a lot of time and practice, but I hope to play as I did three years ago one day. Its rather disappointing that even though I wasn't a very good pianist that I could forget so much. At least its not a memory forgotten forever.
What will I do if I ever do get Alzheimer's?
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