Miss Elder

Between the staircase and the living room on the first floor of our house at 30 East Oneida Street in Oswego was an alcove which contained an upright piano.  As I recall, each of my three older brothers took their turns taking lessons as required by our mother.  When I was eight years-old (1953), it was my turn.  My piano teacher was a woman in her thirties who lived with her parents in a house around the corner on East Third Street.  I called her Miss Elder and later discovered her first name was Carol. 

All my weekly lessons were on the grand piano at her house.  There was a side door I would enter that led directly to the large room where her piano was.  Our piano was only for practice as supervised by my mother.

Miss Elder, like many piano teachers (my daughter Rachel's as well), had a preference for classical music.  Everything she taught me was of this type.  However, inside our piano bench, I found sheet music for the Nineteenth Century American composer Stephen Collins Foster who wrote many popular songs such as Oh! Susanna, My Old Kentucky Home (played before the annual Kentucky Derby), Jeanie with the Light Brown Hair and Old Black Joe.  I would have greatly preferred playing Foster's music, but Miss Elder said no.

Sometimes, Miss Elder's personality rubbed me the wrong way.  Once when I arrived early for my class, I waited while she gave another student a lesson.  He was having difficulty with a particular piece of music.  Miss Elder kept criticizing him until she told me to play it for his benefit as she knew I could play it well.  I was embarrassed for the other student.

Another time when I arrived for a class, Miss Elder's peculiar sense of humor came out.  She told me I was mistaken, that she was not my piano teacher, that I was there in error.  As I was not happy taking piano lessons, I took her at her word and turned around and walked home.  By the time I arrived, she had called my mother and asked that I please return to her house.  I had no choice.

 Annually there would be a piano recital where all her students would perform in front of family and friends.  This was not something I enjoyed, playing the piano in front of a large audience.  Miss Elder had her students practice weeks before the event in order to maximize the effect on the parents, her employers.  

At least once the recital was in an auditorium at a nearby Catholic church.  Prior to the recital, we practiced there.  As my parents had put a fear of being proselytized away from my Jewish religion into my head, it frightened me to walk through the church's corridors with its many paintings of Jesus Christ and various Catholic saints.  It is ironic that I am now married to a Catholic woman and Catholic images are in our bedroom.

Three years after I started taking lessons, my family moved to a new home on the far west side of Oswego.  To continue piano lessons would have required my mother to drive me back and forth to our old neighborhood.  I believe if I had wanted to continue my mother would have done it.  Since I didn't she was willing to allow me to stop.  

However, my mother insisted that I call Miss Elder on the phone to give her the bad news.  At that time I was very hesitant to use the phone due to my lack of social self-confidence.  My mother was trying to push me to gain some.  I jumped at the opportunity.

"Miss Elder, this is Blair calling.  I won't be able to continue my piano lessons as my family is moving to another part of town."  

There was dead silence on the other end of the line. 

Finally, she responded, "Blair, does your mother know you are making this call?"       

With glee, I put my mother on the phone who confirmed what I had said.

I didn't see Miss Elder again for about ten years.  One evening when I was home from Penn, my parents and I were having dinner at one of our favorite restaurants, Vince's Steakhouse on West Bridge Street.  Miss Elder was with a group of friends at another table.  I was happy to see her (as was she to see me), especially as there was no piano in the room.  

My mother always told me that one day I would regret my decision to stop taking piano lessons.  It's been over sixty years and I still have no regrets.