Sweet (Day) 16

Ooh, the Internet is kinda 40. Like me. I wouldn't know some of you w/o the Internet!
The Very Hungry Caterpillar is 40. HEY!! Like me. I'M always Very Hungry.
But, would you just LOOK at what else went on in 69 ??!? You people old enough to know better in '69 were certainly an angry bunch! Aside from the good news of average rent being $135 a month and gas costing around $.35 a gallon and the invention of the battery operated smoke detector ... jeeeeez .... there was lots of war and coups and rising inflation and drinking and drug binges and drowning and dying!
Eek. OK, a little like today. And SOME folks are still MUCH too angry. Lighten up would ya?! It's my birthday!
But, HEY!, at least there was the new Wal-Mart in '69.
There was also Sesame Street.
But, the DYING!
And Yoko and John nekkid.
Oh, the DYING!!
And, just so you know, I paid LESS than average '69 rent in '92 in the last duplex I lived before I married. And I did NOT feel guilty!
Tonight I am grateful for music. Specifically, piano. And the knowledge to read its music.
I took piano lessons at a young age. At a bigger age. And then begged to stop when I was bigger than that. I didn't actually BEG. Mama understood.
But, I am so grateful for the ability to read music. To pick up a song book in church or school or elsewhere and SEE where the notes are heading. To be able to follow along and understand quarter notes, half notes, whole notes. Treble and bass clef. Repeats. Final endings. Forte. FORTISSIMO. piano. pianissimo.
I'm not a musically-gifted sight reader, but I can study and eventually pick out the notes on a sheet of music.
My first piano teacher scared the pants off of me. She also baked goodies at Christmastime out of Corn Flakes and green food coloring that stained her fingers green for a couple of weeks-worth of lessons. That always worried me. She had a great laugh. She had a great big black piano in a little bitty house. He little mother lived with her, I think, and once in awhile her mama would creep out of her bedroom and I remember her being the oldest thing I'd ever seen. She probably wasn't all that old.
My mama had to drive me all the way across town for my lessons.
My next piano teacher was younger than I am now. She had a pretty little house that smelled good. She had pretty makeup and eye shadow that I can still see today. Frosty blue w/ liner that was a frosty brown. She had a young son that lived in a playpen in the kitchen. Once in awhile she'd jump into the next room to check on him. Or check on dinner. I realize now that she was a young mother "working from home." Her dad was my elementary school principal. The man who taught us that "principal" is spelled w/ a "P.A.L." because he's your "friend."
The Big One has "principal" on his spelling list this week. Just guess what story I told him this afternoon.
The Short One is taking piano lessons. But, The Big One has recently taken a liking to the keyboard and has a pretty good ear for it. His fingering is the pits, but he can pick up on a song very quickly and REMEMBER it.
We've pulled out music that was mine. That was my Mama's. We've played some of my old songs. HER old songs. Duets. Scales. Cadences.
I impress him w/ my fairly rusty and unimpressive musical skills. He impresses me w/ his interest and unflagging attempts at perfection. We are IMPRESSIVE musicians.
In "Gras-ti-tude" for making an impression on The Big One.
And for those who IMPRESSED on me the importance of music.