A painful yet memorable piano lesson — 1960
A MEMORABLE PIANO LESSON — 1960
One of my most forceful lessons on honesty was linked to my piano practicing. I started taking lessons when I was 8 or 9 years of age, and this necessitated a daily, 30-minute practice session. To help me keep track of my practice times my mother would set a windup timer for 30 minutes and place it on the piano. No mechanical device ever moved slower than that timer, as the 30-minute periods seemed interminable.
One a particular Saturday when I was about 10 years old, our family was planning an excursion to Crystal Peak campground, my favorite childhood spot. Crystal Peak was a beautiful area next to the Truckee River, north of Reno, and I enjoyed swinging, hunting for crawdads in the river, exploring, and climbing on the girders of a nearby bridge. I had been anxiously anticipating this excursion for several days. My mother informed me, however, that I would have to complete my piano practice session before we could leave for our outing. I begrudgingly started practicing, thinking little about the piano and much about crawdads and wading. After 25 minutes, I could bear the torture no longer, and I slyly moved the time ahead 5 minutes, causing the timer’s bell to ring. I proudly marched into the kitchen and announced that I was done practicing. When asked if I had practiced the full 30 minutes, I swallowed hard and quietly said, “Yes”. It had never occurred to me that my mother was monitoring my practice time on her oven timer in the kitchen. My parents held a brief conference, a short lesson on honesty was delivered, and I was told that I would not be going to Crystal Peak due to my disobedience. I was informed that I would be staying home with my mother, who felt that it was more important for her son to learn a valuable lesson than for her to enjoy a wonderful afternoon with our family. My pleadings for forgiveness, mercy, and another chance went unheeded, and my despair knew no bounds as I watched my father and three sisters pull out of the driveway, heading for Crystal Peak. I moped and whimpered for the several hours that they were gone. My mother calmly ironed clothing as I whimpered, and many times reinforced verbally the lesson that I was learning emotionally. I thank the Lord for parents such as mine. I was truly born of ‘goodly parents’, as was Nephi. Needless to say, I never again touched my practice timer, and I have drawn upon the lesson learned in that experience many times as an adult.
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