“You Can’t Learn Piano! That’s For Rich and Talented People!”

In many cases, the turning point in our lives is powerful and marvelous. Or it can be very dramatic.

But sometimes, it’s gradual and slow; it doesn’t draw too much attention until you look back at it.

I think I was about 10 or 11 when I first heard Richard Clayderman’s Ballade Pour Adeline. It hit my heart like a hammer; it reminded me of a beautiful early morning, a girl sitting in a wooden chair on a patio enjoying the golden sunshine. I believe I bought one or two of his tapes. Sometimes when the time was rough I listened to it.

When I entered high school, one day I came home to a huge surprise: a piano sitting in our living room. I remotely remember it was from my mom’s friend or something; very cheap, cause it was old and kind of beat up. But I was so happy I literally fell to the ground. I didn’t dare to dream to be able to play it, but at least I knew what I was going to do on Sunday afternoons.

There was no way we could afford an instructor, but for some reason we had a practice book: Beyer Elementary Method v2. Till now I have no idea where it came from. Well, it won’t hurt to try it, I said to myself. I started practicing. I don’t remember how long, maybe a month or two, I finished it.

Then I started to have some unacceptable, crazy thoughts: What if I try Mr. Clayderman’s music?

But that was a stupid idea. For one thing, there was no sign of musical talent in me; at least not for such a big, complex, magnificent instrument. Plus, again, we couldn’t afford an instructor. However, in my simple mind, I thought: “Well, all I have to do is putting my fingers at the right places at the right time!”

I bought one of his music sheet books, picked the easiest piece and started practicing. I was (still am) a very slow music reader, so I marked all the notes on the sheets to remind myself. And yes, I PRACTICE: I could sit in front of that old piano nearly all day just try to put my fingers at the right places at the right time. I didn’t even notice how time went by. And I didn’t know how my mom put up with it, she deserved a medal.

After a month or two, I could play that piece. Maybe not perfect, but I did it. I was happy, but getting stupider: how about some other more difficult pieces?

One of my uncles told me more than once: “What are you doing? You know you can’t learn piano! That’s for rich and talented people!” I replied with silence. Why can’t I even try it?

I remained the stupid self and tried the more challenging ones. Eventually, I could play them—well, not perfectly, but kind of enough.

**

One day I was chatting with a new member of our church. She was a nice girl, and she liked piano music too. “You like piano?” she smiled, “I know a great pianist, do you want to try it?”

“Sure, what is it?”

“George Winston. I’ll give you a tape.”

She made a copy of his December album. She even made a cover herself, her writing was cute and elegant. Then I listened to the first piece, Thanksgiving.

And my life was changed forever.

Mr. Clayderman’s music was beautiful and elegant, and he always had an orchestra accompanied him. Winston, on the other hand, only had his piano—but that piano was MORE than the whole orchestra. Clayderman was showing us a picture, but Winston was telling us a story. His Thanksgiving was simple and slow, yet I saw a small house on a quiet snowy night, with a person looking out the window enjoying the scene of snow falling. A table, under the yellow light, was full of traditional dishes: turkey, mashed potatoes, pumpkin pie. But it wasn’t a loud and joyful dinner; it was peaceful and… I don’t know, a little sad? Like s/he was alone in this holiday, but was sincerely appreciating what s/he had; you know, thanksgiving.

But it wasn’t the only music that turned me into another person. Joy, and the Holly and the Ivy, both shook me till every single cell of my body vibrated. I became addicted; I needed his music like food and water. Some of Winston’s pieces weren’t too hard, but some were difficult; in my opinion, way more difficult than Clayderman’s. Yet, of course, the stupid me started to get ridiculous: what if I play his music? In fact, the desire of playing his pieces was burning like fire.

However, he never published his sheet music.

Something must have got me, cause I dared to get even stupider: this Thanksgiving sounds not that difficult, what if I… try to play by ear?

So I did that. After a few days or a few weeks, maybe, to my pleasant surprise: I started playing Thanksgiving.

I think this probably was a turning point. I realized: maybe I’m NOT stupid—I DO have some musical talent.

I learned that Winston had a few more albums, and I bought them all. Every album was conveying so many stories and emotions, they brought me to tears. In fact, my oldest son could testify that: when he was only a few months old, one day he was crying nonstop, and we had no idea why. Finally, for some reason, I played Winston’s tape, Reflection. It was a calming piece; and lo and behold, he suddenly became quiet—for nearly 3 minutes, the whole length of the piece.

After I went to Hawaii for college, I was shocked to learn that some people transcribed quite a few of Winston’s pieces and published them. I hurried to make copies. For the pieces I loved that weren’t transcribed, I tried to play by ear.

There was one difficult piece: the Holly and the Ivy. I had the sheet music, but I didn’t dare to dream of playing it. But one day I saw a cute girl playing the piano; she was good. To get a chance to see her more, I said: “Hey, I have this piece I’d like to learn, can you teach me?”

“Sure.”

We made an appointment to meet at the piano lounge in the dorm.

It wasn’t an easy piece alright; she was counting, stopping, struggling a bit, but she finished. I didn’t get a lot of time to play it myself, so we made another appointment. Learning that piece wasn’t really my purpose anyway.

However, the next time she apologized and said she had some other engagement, and postponed it to a week after. Then another week. I think it was the 3rd time that got me. I politely told her it was okay, I should try to learn it myself. From her face, I thought she might be a little disappointed or sorry, I don’t know, but I thought it kind of was her rejection of me.

I never seriously thought about trying that piece, but maybe because of her, I got this “let me show you” attitude, and put this damn sheet music in front of me and started following these damn tadpoles.

It was a struggle, but I loved the music so much it wasn’t too tough.

And yes, after a few weeks, I achieved something I wouldn’t even dream of. I actually couldn’t believe it; I really didn’t know I had that in me.

That probably was another turning point. I picked on some other challenging pieces: Longing/Love, Colors/Dance, Rain, etc., and conquered them. Well, sort of… some sections were too difficult, I faked them a little bit.

**

After I got a job and settled down, I guess because there were no pretty girls for me to show off my talent, I pretty much stopped playing the piano. We didn’t (still don’t) have a decent piano anyway. However, in 2018 I reconnected with my elementary classmates, and one girl (well, woman now) played a little violin. I played a little violin too (another story), but I figured I should impress her and other mates with my piano skills. Relearning the Holly and the Ivy and Rain took some time, but quickly I managed and uploaded them online to share with them. I smiled to myself the whole time.

But yeah, since then, I haven’t practiced these pieces. Maybe I should see if I can buy a cheap and decent piano and rekindle my passion…