TITLE: I have Become my Teacher
By Arlene Baker
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While in my early twenties, I took music lessons from a lady who had passed her eightieth birthday. We played on an ancient grand piano in an equally ancient house. Her living room was cluttered with towering stacks of music. The house was in desperate need of repair and seemed to be falling down around her, but she seemed oblivious to anything except music.
As much as I appreciated her musical talent and tutelage, I cringed every time I went to her house for lessons, stepping over loose steps and avoiding dust encrusted furnishings.
Now I am in my fifties and an avid writer. Occasionally I lift my head from the keyboard long enough to glimpse dust-bunnies, piles of laundry and dirty dishes in the sink. After a quick survey, I return to the story at hand.
She valued music above a pristine house. I value writing above – dare I say it – total cleanliness. O my goodness…I have become my teacher—and I like it!
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