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.

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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