I Write the Songs…
A story I’ve told
some. To this day it is story that I am fascinated by. There are those times in your life when you
feel you have nothing to offer to life. You wonder, ‘where’s your talent?’
I do that a lot. I know I can work anywhere.
I can last with my mental drive and endurance.
That I know. But I know that is
not a talent.
Yet, I know
somewhere in my essence I must have a little piece of talent in the arts. No, not the martial arts. The music, painting, drawing, and writing
type arts, I’m talking about. Our youngest daughter has it. However, she’s
adopted. My brother had it. My sister has it.
Her kids have it. You know where it comes from? I think I do. I’ll tell you a
story and let you figure it out.
One day in early
1975, my Dad came home with this big blue case, with brass buckles enclosing with
what was inside of it. He rested it down on our living room chair that
afternoon. The sunshine reflected and
peered through the pantry windows, through our tiny kitchen. And then into the
back end of our living room.
My Mom asked, “What’s this?”
Dad replied, “It’s for you. This guy…” He begins to unfasten the brass
buckles of the blue case. He continues, “…was throwing this accordion out. And at first, there was no case with it. It
was sitting on the side of the road by the curb.”
My Mom looked at the accordion. Dad added, “He
said one key is broken off. Another is a
little too low and well. He saw me taking the accordion off the curb and called
to me from his front door. He offered me
the case.” He shrugged.
I asked, “Mom, can you still play it?”
She steadied her eyes on the accordion. Put
her right hand to her chin. “Yeah. But I haven’t played an accordion since I
was sixteen.”
My heart sunk a little, for my mother was
now age thirty-five. I thought that to be quite a number of years of passing
with no practice. Especially, when I
knew my brother practiced his clarinet every day for the last five years and
the guitar most days for the past six years. He was diligent with practicing.
He wanted to be a star.
My Mom then
suddenly picked up the accordion out of its case. Put the straps of the instrument
over her shoulders, and sat down. She sat
there for about three minutes checking the air, the buttons, the keys, and the
movement of the accordion. She made music.
It was an old type of tune.
Then she said, “Jody, put the radio on.” I
did. It was tuned to an oldies and pop station CBS-FM.
Soon, after
I turned it on and tuned the radio in with no static, a song by Barry Manilow
played. It was “I Write the Songs”. It was a new song, that we’d just became
familiar with. After it played on the radio, my mother said, “Okay shut it off.” I turned off the radio. Mom sat there and played the whole song on
the accordion, as she sung the words to “I Write the Songs”. It was so
fascinating. Mom commented after she was done, “Not so bad.” She meant the shape of the old accordion.
To this day, my
mind remains blown by that day with the accordion. My mother had other
talents. She was a cosmetician. She
could run circles around people with Algebraic equations. Her ability to learn and use a foreign
language such as Spanish was quite incredible.
Her English skills and penmanship were insane. I know her IQ must’ve been high. My mother could read forever. It was amazing
to watch her. ---Jody-Lynn Reicher
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