I am forever grateful to my parents for the gift of a music education. I remember my mother tirelessly driving a great distance to my piano teacher’s home off-base on Okinawa. In the hot and humid afternoon, she took a nap in the car while I sat for my one-hour lesson with my piano teacher. In addition to piano, Mrs Betsy Hermann taught me music theory by writing music notation by hand. At age 14, armed with the vocabulary of music, I started composing and arranging music.
Piano Recital, Maui Conservatory, Hawaii, December 2016
When I asked my mom recently why she went into all that trouble for our piano lessons each week, she replied simply, “I thought it was the right thing to do.”
“Why did you want us to learn the piano?”
She, my sister, and I all started our lessons at the same time, from our Japanese neighbor, wife of my dad’s colleague. My mother progressed the fastest, as adults usually do. My six-year old sister stopped because she couldn’t understand Japanese. At age eight, I could read Chinese characters and body language. I persisted.
“It was a good thing. I like the sound of the piano.”
In truth, my mother always sang and hummed while doing house chores. She sang the famous Korean song “Arirang” or other tunes which wove the musical fabric of my childhood in Taiwan and on Okinawa.
When a guitar class was offered in school, I eagerly took it. The nylon-stringed guitar was big for a twelve-year old. Despite this, I learned enough chords to accompany myself. Once I learned music theory from my piano teacher, I started to compose.
Recently I met a young Chinese mother who told me that she pays $120 per hour for her seven year old son to take piano lessons at a prestigious music school in Boston. I exclaimed, “That’s very expensive!” In other words, “how can you afford it”?
She replied, “It includes weekend workshops and a recital if his teacher thinks he is good enough.”
“But still,” I protested in my head. I’d never spend that kind of money on anyone. The young mother continued, “It’s less expensive if he takes lessons from a student at the conservatory. $80 per hour.”
If parents are willing to spend THAT much money on their kids, why don’t they spend it on themselves? Is it because adults don’t have the time to take hour-long private lessons?
In hindsight, my parents probably paid just as much, or more, for me and my sister to take private piano lessons. Mom stopped taking piano lessons while I continued. My sister recommenced when she was old enough. Meanwhile, my mother worked to pay for our lessons.
When I tried to teach mom the piano and the ukulele in recent years, she complained that her wrists hurt. Undeterred, I took her down memory lane to build a playlist of her favorite songs. Interestingly, the list included those nearly forgotten Japanese and Chinese songs I grew up hearing her sing. I will introduce some of them at a ukulele retreat in the White Mountains in New Hampshire this July.
My message for adults is — don’t wait until your kids grow up to treat yourself to the gift of music. Register for short courses for the guitar and ukulele in Boston, Massachusetts. Even better, give your mother the gift of music on Mother’s Day. I’ve not yet figured out how to engineer this event — but one of the following surely is food for thought!
Buy a gift certificate that can be used on Mother’s Day or your mother’s birthday for a workshop on how to play the ukulele; can include use of a high-end instrument of your choice; learn to play your mother’s favorite songs.
