Postlude
I walked onto the stage in the music building’s small theatre. It was mid-year of my first year of college at El Camino. The occasion was the bi-weekly student recital and I was to play the Debussy First Arabesque as my first public performance on piano.
There was no feeling of internal connection with the 7’ Baldwin as I approached. I carefully adjusted the height of the black artist’s bench and stared back at the cold plastic keys. I quickly glanced at the position of my feet on the pedals. I then sat quietly for a moment, finding my focus.
The silence was broken with a seemingly desperate whisper calling to me from the stage wing. “Okay - - - you can play now. Go ahead - - -. Anytime now - - ” It was Mrs. Nelson, the teacher of my piano class, no doubt wondering exactly what I was doing.
And now that I am at the end of my story, I know – “it’s time to play now. I can play now.”
I brought my accordion to the party, but no one asked me to play
