One grand piano

My assumptions are so quietly embedded I easily lose track of how dumb they can be.

At a small theater last night, awaiting the performance of show tunes like South Pacific’s “Gonna wash that man right out of my hair” I assumed hearing music my folks enjoyed would be nostalgic, chummy and familiar.

I assumed the music would remind me of Mom, a pianist who often pounded the daylights out of her precious baby grand, which dominated the living room of our Elmhurst ranch house like a revered guest of honor, which it was.

Both assumptions were wrong.

The sole instrument WAS a piano. Six performers DID sing “Some enchanted evening,” “Oklahoma!” and others, all composed a good 30 years before they were born.

But they made the music new. Brand new. Not different. NEW.
At least it was new to me.

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About Mrs. Fitz

Hello! I'm Michele Fitzpatrick, a Chicago writer. Like our town, a work in progress. As a journalist, teacher and writing coach I think all of us live our stories and sharing them creates moments that remind us we're connected. And that is enough.
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