When I was about eight-years-old my parents surprised me with a used piano and the requisite piano lessons. They didn’t have money to buy a piano – we were not wealthy people, we didn’t have room for the piano – it was crammed along the wall of our small dining room, and I didn’t want to play the piano – I wanted to play flute (my mom said I could take up the flute once I’d learned to play the piano). I spent a couple years taking lessons from ancient Miss Harrison and doing everything in my power to avoid practicing, including redirecting my mom’s attention when we drove by the nearby piano store so it wouldn’t be a reminder to her to say, “Debra, have you practiced today?”
I never became at all good on the piano and I never got near a flute. The flute part was okay, though, because as I grew up just a bit and started listening to the music of the 60s I realized what I really wanted to do, and what I might actually have some innate ability at, was to play the drums.
Flash forward a few decades and one Christmas I walked out in the garage to find a beautiful red drum set waiting for me, a gift from my husband. It took a few more years for me to do anything with it. At that point I enrolled in Ladies Rock Camp (there are four entries about my Rock Camp experience at my other blog, Debbie Does 50! – October 2008). Since then (yes, since 2008) I haven’t done anything with my drums. I walk past them daily redirecting my attention so I don’t ask myself if I’ve played today. At one point, one of my kids put a sign just outside my office door saying, “Mom, have you played the drums today?”
Unlike the piano, I want to learn to play the drums. From my brief experience playing at Ladies Rock Camp, I know I’ll enjoy it. If nothing else, I think it will be a good stress reliever – I can pound out the tensions. My drum set has been a huge, visible “Someday” – until now. April is drum month!
366 Somedays 